“I for one,” returned the sexton, sharply, “would willingly exchange it for that, or any other couch, provided it rid me of this accursed crupper, which galls me sorely. Moderate your pace, grandson Luke, or I must throw myself off the horse in self-defence.”
Luke slackened his charger’s pace, in compliance with the sexton’s wish.
“Ah! well,” continued Peter, restored in a measure to comfort; “now I can contemplate the sunrise, which you laud, somewhat at mine ease. ‘Tis a fine sight, I doubt not, to the eyes of youth; and, to the sanguine soul of him upon whom life itself is dawning, is, I dare say, inspiriting; but when the heyday of existence is past; when the blood flows sluggishly in the veins; when one has known the desolating storms which the brightest sunrise has preceded, the seared heart refuses to trust its false glitter; and, like the experienced sailor, sees oft in the brightest sky a forecast of the tempest. To such a one, there can be no new dawn of the heart; no sun can gild its cold and cheerless horizon; no breeze can revive pulses that have long since ceased to throb with any chance emotion. I am too old to feel freshness in this nipping air. It chills me more than the damps of nights, to which I am accustomed. Night—midnight! is my season of delight. Nature is instinct then with secrets dark and dread. There is a language which he who sleepeth not, but will wake, and watch, may haply learn. Strange organs of speech hath the invisible world; strange language doth it talk; strange communion hold with him who would pry into its mysteries. It talks by bat and owl—by the grave-worm, and by each crawling thing—by the dust of graves, as well as by those that rot therein—but ever doth it discourse by night, and specially when the moon is at the full. ‘Tis the lore I have then learnt that makes that season dear to me. Like your cat, mine eye expands in darkness. I blink at the sunshine, like your owl.”
“Cease this forbidding strain,” returned Luke; “it sounds as harshly as your own screech-owl’s cry. Let your thoughts take a more sprightly turn, more in unison with my own and the fair aspect of nature.”
“Shall I direct them to the gipsies’ camp, then?” said Peter with a sneer. “Do your own thoughts tend thither?”
“You are not altogether in the wrong,” replied Luke. “I was thinking of the gipsies’ camp, and of one who dwells amongst its tents.”
“I knew it,” replied Peter. “Did you hope to deceive me, by attributing all your joyousness of heart to the dawn? Your thoughts have been wandering all this while upon one who hath, I will engage, a pair of sloe-black eyes, an olive skin, and yet withal a clear one—’black, yet comely, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon’—a mesh of jetty hair, that hath entangled you in its network—ripe lips, and a cunning tongue—one of the plagues of Egypt. Ha, ha!”
“You have guessed shrewdly,” replied Luke; “I care not to own that my thoughts were so occupied.”
“I was assured of it,” replied the sexton, “And what may be the name of her towards whom your imagination was straying?”
“Sibila Perez,” replied Luke. “Her father was a Spanish Gitano. She is known amongst her people by her mother’s name of Lovel.”
“She is beautiful, of course?”
“Ay, very beautiful!—but no matter! You shall judge of her charms anon.”
“I will take your word for them,” returned the sexton; “and you love her?”
“Passionately.”
“You are not married?” asked Peter, hastily.
“Not as yet,” replied Luke; “but my faith is plighted.”
“Heaven be praised! The mischief is not then irreparable. I would have you married—though not to a gipsy girl.”
“And whom would you select?”
“One before whom Sybil’s beauty would pale as stars at day’s approach.”
“There lives not such a one.”
“Trust me there does. Eleanor Mowbray is lovely beyond parallel. I was merely speculating upon a possibility, when I wished her yours—it is scarcely likely she would cast her eyes upon you.”
“I shall not heed her neglect. Graced with my title, I doubt not, were it my pleasure to seek a bride amongst those of gentle blood, I should not find all indifferent to my suit.”
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