she had devoted herself these many months to looking after his property; all he thought of was, that he loved her now, as much as he had done in the old days, and that she was still set on having nothing to do with him. Had she been an ordinary girl, he might have broken her spirit; but it was useless to attempt bullying with Hagar. She could give as good as she get; and this great, hulking Goliath could only admire and desire this spirited gipsy girl who disdained him and his money.
"Well," said Hagar to herself as she saw the last of him, "I have had one unexpected visitor; so by all the laws of coincidence I should have another to-day. I never knew one strange event happen without another following on its heels."
Hagar did not think precisely in so bookish a fashion, but the gist of her ideas was as above; and this proved correct before nightfall, at which time the unexpected second event duly occurred. This was none other than the arrival of Eustace Lorn, who entered the shop with a smile on his lips and a love light in his eyes. The girl knew his step--by some intuition of love, no doubt--and rushed to meet him with outstretched hands. These Eustace clasped ardently in his own; but as yet--so dignified was the attitude of Hagar--he did not venture to kiss her. His speech was warmer than his actions.
"Hagar! my dear Hagar!" he cried, in rapture, "at last I have come back. Are you not glad to see me?"
"I am delighted!" replied Hagar, beaming with pleasure--"more delighted than I was to see Goliath."
"Ah! he has returned, then? I found him at last, you see; and I recognized him from your description."
"He did not tell me of your meeting, Eustace."
"Oh, it was in this way," replied Lorn, as they entered the parlor together. "I had searched for him everywhere, as you know, but could not find him. Where he has been all these months I cannot say, as at our interview he refused to tell me."
"Perhaps he had a good reason for his silence," said Hagar, noting the fact that Goliath had kept quiet concerning his prison experiences.
"I dare say," laughed Lorn. "He looks a scamp. Well, I was down near Weybridge, resting by the roadside, when I saw a tall red-haired man passing. Remembering your description of Jimmy Dix, I felt sure that it was him; and I called out the name 'Goliath.' To my surprise, instead of stopping, he took to his heels."
"Ah, he had a good reason for that also."
"Not an honest one, I am afraid. Well; I ran after him, and in spite of his long legs I managed to catch him up. Then he showed fight; but when I explained who I was, and who you were, and how his father had died and left a fortune, Goliath grew quiet and friendly. He fraternized with me, accepted the loan of a few shillings--which was all I could spare--and took himself off to London. You have seen him?"
"Yes; and to-morrow I make up my accounts and give him over his property. Then I shall be free--free! Oh!" cried Hagar, stretching her arms, "how delicious it will be to be free once more--to leave this weary London, and see the sky and stars, sunrise and sunset--to hear the birds, and breathe the fresh air of the moors! I am going back to my tribe, you know."
"I don't know," said Eustace, taking her hand; "but I do know that I love you, and I have an idea that you love me. In this case, I think that instead of going back to your tribe you should come to your husband."
"My husband--you!" cried Hagar, with a charming blush.
"If you love me," said Eustace, and then was quiet.
"You leave the burden of proposing on me," cried Hagar, again. "Well, my dear, I will not hide from you that I do love you. Hush! let me go on. I have seen but little of you, yet what I have seen I have loved, every inch of it. I can read faces and estimate character better than most, and I know that you are a true, good, honorable man, who will make me, a poor gipsy, a better husband than I dared to expect. Yes, Eustace, I love you. If you care I will marry you---"
"Care! Marry me!" said Lorn, in rapture. "Why, my angel---"
"One moment," interrupted Hagar more seriously. "You know that I have no money, Eustace. Jacob Dix did not leave me a penny. I refuse to take anything from Goliath, who wants to marry me; and to-morrow I leave this shop as poor as when I came into it two years ago. Now, you are poor also; so two paupers are foolish to marry."
"But I am not poor!" cried Eustace, smiling--"that is, I am not rich, but I have sufficient for you and me to lead the life we love."
"But the life I love is the gipsy life," objected Hagar.
"I also am Romany by instinct," said Eustace joyously. "Have I not led the life of a vagabond these many months while looking for Goliath? See here, my dearest girl; when I left you I sold the Florentine Dante to a collector of books for a goodly sum. With the money I sought a caravan, and stocked it with books suitable for the country folk. All this time, my dear, I have been traveling with my caravan from town to town, earning my living by selling books; and I find it, really and truly, a very profitable concern. I ask you to be my wife--to share my caravan and gipsy life; so if you---"
"Eustace!" cried Hagar, joyfully, and threw her arms round his neck. That was all; the situation adjusted itself between them without further words. When the pair stepped out into Carby's Crescent to see the caravan--it was round the corner--they were already betrothed. For once in this world the course of true love was running smoothly. To marry Eustace; to live in a caravan; to wander about the country in true Bohemian fashion--Hagar could conceive of no sweeter existence. At last she was rewarded for her toils in the pawn-shop.
"This is our future home, Hagar," said Eustace, and pointed to the caravan.
It was a very spick and span vehicle, painted a light canary color, picked out with pale blue; and on either side was inscribed--also in azure--the legend, "E. Lorn, Bookseller." A sleek gray horse in brown harness was between the shafts; and the windows of the caravan were barred with brass rods and curtained with the whitest of curtains. Hagar fell in love with this delightful Noah's ark--as Eustace playfully called it--and clapped her hands. As it was about six o'clock and twilight, the street was almost emptied of people, so Hagar could indulge in her raptures to her heart's content.
"O Eustace, Eustace! 'Tis beautiful! 'tis perfect!" she cried. "If it is as neat within as without, I shall love it dearly!"
"You'll make me jealous of the caravan," said Eustace, rather uneasily. "But don't look inside, Hagar."
"Why not?" said she, with a wondering look.
"Oh, because, because---" he began, in confusion, and then stopped. Hagar looked at the door of the caravan, and Eustace turned his eyes in the same direction. It opened slowly, and a face--a brutal white face--looked out. The man to whom this visage--it was covered with a hairy growth of some days--belonged peered out at Eustace; then his gaze wandered to Hagar. As the light fell on his sullen looks, she gave a cry; the man on his side uttered an oath, and the next moment, dashing open the door, he had leaped out, and brushing past the pair, was racing down the street which led from Carby's Crescent into the larger thoroughfare.
Eustace looked surprised at this sudden flight, and turned an inquiring look on Hagar, who was pale as sculptured stone.
"Why are you so pale?" he said, taking her hand; "and why did my friend run away at the sight of you?"
"Your friend?" said Hagar, faintly.
"Yes; for the time being at all events. He is only a poor tramp I found near Esher the other day. He was lying in a ditch half-dead for want of food, so I took him into my caravan, and looked
