Petulengro, "if you have not the money I can lend it you, though I be of lower Egypt." "You talk nonsense," said I;"however, I wish you would ask the man the price of it."Mr.Petulengro, going up to the jockey, inquired the price of the horse - the man, looking at him scornfully, made no reply."Young man," said I, going up to the jockey, "do me the favour to tell me the price of that horse, as I suppose it is to sell." The jockey, who was a surly-looking man, of about fifty, looked at me for a moment, then, after some hesitation, said, laconically, "Seventy." "Thank you," said I, and turned away."Buy that horse," said Mr.Petulengro, coming after me; "the dook tells me that in less than three months he will be sold for twice seventy." "I will have nothing to do with him," said I; "besides, Jasper, I don't like his tail.Did you observe what a mean scrubby tail he has?" "What a fool you are, brother," said Mr.Petulengro;"that very tail of his shows his breeding.No good bred horse ever yet carried a fine tail - 'tis your scrubby-tailed horses that are your out-and-outers.Did you ever hear of Syntax, brother? That tail of his puts me in mind of Syntax.
Well, I say nothing more, have your own way - all I wonder at is, that a horse like him was ever brought to such a fair of dog cattle as this."We then made the best of our way to a public-house, where we had some refreshment.I then proposed returning to the encampment, but Mr.Petulengro declined, and remained drinking with his companions till about six o'clock in the evening, when various jockeys from the fair came in.After some conversation a jockey proposed a game of cards; and in a little time, Mr.Petulengro and another gypsy sat down to play a game of cards with two of the jockeys.
Though not much acquainted with cards, I soon conceived a suspicion that the jockeys were cheating Mr.Petulengro and his companion, I therefore called Mr.Petulengro aside, and gave him a hint to that effect.Mr.Petulengro, however, instead of thanking me, told me to mind my own bread and butter, and forthwith returned to his game.I continued watching the players for some hours.The gypsies lost considerably, and I saw clearly that the jockeys were cheating them most confoundedly.I therefore once more called Mr.Petulengro aside, and told him that the jockeys were cheating him, conjuring him to return to the encampment.
Mr.Petulengro, who was by this time somewhat the worse for liquor, now fell into a passion, swore several oaths, and asking me who had made me a Moses over him and his brethren, told me to return to the encampment by myself.Incensed at the unworthy return which my well-meant words had received, Iforthwith left the house, and having purchased a few articles of provision, I set out for the dingle alone.It was a dark night when I reached it, and descending I saw the glimmer of a fire from the depths of the dingle; my heart beat with fond anticipation of a welcome."Isopel Berners is waiting for me," said I, "and the first words that I shall hear from her lips is that she has made up her mind.We shall go to America, and be so happy together." On reaching the bottom of the dingle, however, I saw seated near the fire, beside which stood the kettle simmering, not Isopel Berners, but a gypsy girl, who told me that Miss Berners when she went away had charged her to keep up the fire, and have the kettle boiling against my arrival.Startled at these words, Iinquired at what hour Isopel had left, and whither she was gone, and was told that she had left the dingle, with her cart, about two hours after I departed; but where she was gone she, the girl, did not know.I then asked whether she had left no message, and the girl replied that she had left none, but had merely given directions about the kettle and fire, putting, at the same time, six-pence into her hand.
"Very strange," thought I; then dismissing the gypsy girl Isat down by the fire.I had no wish for tea, but sat looking on the embers, wondering what could be the motive of the sudden departure of Isopel."Does she mean to return?"thought I to myself."Surely she means to return," Hope replied, "or she would not have gone away without leaving any message" - "and yet she could scarcely mean to return,"muttered Foreboding, "or she assuredly would have left some message with the girl." I then thought to myself what a hard thing it would be, if, after having made up my mind to assume the yoke of matrimony, I should be disappointed of the woman of my choice."Well, after all," thought I, "I can scarcely be disappointed; if such an ugly scoundrel as Sylvester had no difficulty in getting such a nice wife as Ursula, surely I, who am not a tenth part so ugly, cannot fail to obtain the hand of Isopel Berners, uncommonly fine damsel though she be.
Husbands do not grow upon hedgerows; she is merely gone after a little business and will return to-morrow."Comforted in some degree by these hopeful imaginings, Iretired to my tent, and went to sleep.
