Story of the Egyptian 297

only recollection of my mother is that she once
took me to see the dead body of some gypsy
who had been murdered. She told me to dip
my hand in the blood, so that I could say I had
done so when I became a woman. It was meant
as a treat to me, and is the one kindness I am
sure I got from her. Curiously enough, I felt
the shame of her deserting me for many years
afterwards. As a child I cried hysterically at
thought of it; it pained me when I was at school
in Edinburgh every time I saw the other girls
writing home; I cannot think of it without a
shudder even now. It is what makes me worse
than other women.”

Her voice had altered, and she was speaking
passionately.

“‘ Sometimes,” she continued, more gently, “I
try to think that my mother did come back for
me, and then went away because she heard I was
in better hands than hers. It was Lord Rintoul
who found me, and I owe everything to him.
You will say that he has no need to be proud of
me. He took me home on his horse, and paid
his gardener’s wife to rear me. She was Scotch,
and that is why I can speak two languages. It
was he, too, who sent me to school in Edinburgh.”

“‘ He has been very kind to you,” said Gavin,
who would have preferred to dislike the earl.

“So kind,” answered Babbie, “that now he is
to marry me. But do you know why he has
done all this? ”

Now again she was agitated, and spoke indig-
nantly.

“It is all because I have a pretty face,” she