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Updated: June 22, 2025
It was Ellan Vannin. From that moment Drake's horse never relinquished his advantage, but came down the straight like a great bird with his wings ceasing to flap, passed the Stand amid great excitement, and won handsomely by a length. Then in the roar of delight that went up from the crowd Glory, with her hand on Drake's shoulder, was seen to be crying, laughing, and cheering at the same moment.
I did not know then, what now I know, that my father was at that moment the most tragic figure in Ellan except myself, and that, shattered in health and shaken in fortune, he was indulging in this wild extravagance equally to assert his solvency and to gratify his lifelong passion under the very wing of Death. But oh, my wild woe, my frantic prayers!
I told him three weeks ago that my father had come for me and we were going back to Ellan. "And then? What are you going to do then?" he asked. For a moment I felt ashamed to answer, but at last I told him that I was going home to be married. "Married? When? To whom?" I said I did not know when, but it was to be to the young Lord Raa. "Raa? Did you say Raa?
My gough, yes, we'll beat 'em!" he cried, with a flash of his black eyes and a masterful lift of his eyebrows. As we ran by the mansions of the great people of Ellan, he pointed them out to me with a fling of the arm and spoke of the families in a tone of contempt. "See that? That's Christian of Balla-Christian. The man snubbed me six months ago.
The ladies tittered, and Glory turned to Drake and said, "A pair of gloves against Ellan Vannin." "Done," said Drake, and there was general laughter. The gipsy still held Glory's hand, and looking up at Drake out of the corner of her eyes, she said: "I won't tell you what colour he is, pretty lady, but he is young and tall, and, though he is a gorgio, he is the kind a Romany girl would die for.
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