Briar Wood had no straight and direct road through it; but plenty of small paths and byways and turnings and windings, that might bring you, by good luck, to landing at last; or might take you unconsciously back whence you came. Emerging from a part, where the trees grew dark and dense and thick, upon one of those delightful glades I spoke of before, we saw what I took to be a small gipsy encampment. A fire of sticks, with a kettle upon it, smoked upon the ground; beside it sat a young woman and child; a few tin wares, tied together, lay in a corner, and some rabbits' skins were stretched out to dry on the branches of trees. Up started the woman, and came swiftly towards us. A regular gipsy, with the purple-black hair, the yellow skin, and the large soft gleaming eyes. It was a beautiful young face, but worn and thin and anxious. "Do you want your fortunes told, my good young gentlemen? I can----" "Not a bit of it," interrupted Bill. "Go back to your fire. We are only passing through." "I can read the lines of your hands unerringly, my pretty sirs. I can forewarn you of evil, and prepare you for good." "Now, look you here," cried Bill, turning upon her good-humouredly, as she followed up with a lot of the like stuff, "I can forewarn _you_ of it, unless you are content to leave us alone. This wood belongs to Sir John Whitney, as I dare say all your fraternity know, and his keepers wage war against you when they find you are encamped here, and that I am sure you know. Mind your own affairs, and you may stay here in peace, for me: keep on bothering us, and I go straight to Rednal and give him a hint. I am Sir John's son." He threw her a sixpence, and the woman's face changed as she caught it. The persuasive smile vanished as if by magic, giving place to a look of anxious pain. "What's the matter?" said he. "Do you know my husband, sir?" she asked. "It's more than likely that you do." "And what if I do?" cried Whitney. The woman took the words as an affirmative answer. She drew near, and laid her small brown finger on his coat-sleeve. "Then, if you chance to meet him, sir, persuade him to come back to me, for the love of Heaven. I _can_ read the future: and for some days past, since we first halted here, I have foreseen that evil is in store for him. He won't believe me; he is not one of _us_; but I scent it in the air, and it comes nearer and nearer; it is drawing very close now. He may listen to you, sir, for we respect Sir John, who is never hard on us as some great owners of the land are; and oh, send him back here to me and the child! Better that it should fall on him when by our side than when away from us." "Why--what do you mean?" cried Whitney, surprised out of the question, and hardly understanding her words or their purport. And he might have laughed outright, as he told me later, but for the dreadful trouble that shone forth from her sad, wild eyes.