The Gipsy Prophecy


“I really think,” said the Doctor, “that, at any rate, one of us should
go and try whether or not the thing is an imposture.”

“Good!” said Considine. “After dinner we will take our cigars and
stroll over to the camp.”

Accordingly, when the dinner was over, and the _La Tour_ finished,
Joshua Considine and his friend, Dr Burleigh, went over to the east
side of the moor, where the gipsy encampment lay. As they were leaving,
Mary Considine, who had walked as far as the end of the garden where it
opened into the laneway, called after her husband:

“Mind, Joshua, you are to give them a fair chance, but don’t give them
any clue to a fortune—and don’t you get flirting with any of the gipsy
maidens—and take care to keep Gerald out of harm.”

For answer Considine held up his hand, as if taking a stage oath, and
whistled the air of the old song, “The Gipsy Countess.” Gerald joined
in the strain, and then, breaking into merry laughter, the two men
passed along the laneway to the common, turning now and then to wave
their hands to Mary, who leaned over the gate, in the twilight, looking
after them. It was a lovely evening in the summer; the very air was full of rest
and quiet happiness, as though an outward type of the peacefulness and
joy which made a heaven of the home of the young married folk. Considine’s life had not been an eventful one. The only disturbing
element which he had ever known was in his wooing of Mary Winston, and
the long-continued objection of her ambitious parents, who expected a
brilliant match for their only daughter. When Mr. and Mrs. Winston had
discovered the attachment of the young barrister, they had tried to
keep the young people apart by sending their daughter away for a long
round of visits, having made her promise not to correspond with her
lover during her absence. Love, however, had stood the test. Neither
absence nor neglect seemed to cool the passion of the young man, and
jealousy seemed a thing unknown to his sanguine nature; so, after a
long period of waiting, the parents had given in, and the young folk
were married. They had been living in the cottage a few months, and were just
beginning to feel at home. Gerald Burleigh, Joshua’s old college chum,
and himself a sometime victim of Mary’s beauty, had arrived a week
before, to stay with them for as long a time as he could tear himself
away from his work in London. When her husband had quite disappeared Mary went into the house, and,
sitting down at the piano, gave an hour to Mendelssohn. It was but a short walk across the common, and before the cigars
required renewing the two men had reached the gipsy camp. The place was
as picturesque as gipsy camps—when in villages and when business is
good—usually are. There were some few persons round the fire, investing
their money in prophecy, and a large number of others, poorer or more
parsimonious, who stayed just outside the bounds but near enough to see
all that went on. As the two gentlemen approached, the villagers, who knew Joshua, made
way a little, and a pretty, keen-eyed gipsy girl tripped up and asked
to tell their fortunes. Joshua held out his hand, but the girl, without
seeming to see it, stared at his face in a very odd manner. Gerald
nudged him:

“You must cross her hand with silver,” he said. “It is one of the most
important parts of the mystery.” Joshua took from his pocket a
half-crown and held it out to her, but, without looking at it, she
answered:

“You have to cross the gipsy’s hand with gold.”

Gerald laughed. “You are at a premium as a subject,” he said. Joshua
was of the kind of man—the universal kind—who can tolerate being stared
at by a pretty girl; so, with some little deliberation, he answered:

“All right; here you are, my pretty girl; but you must give me a real
good fortune for it,” and he handed her a half sovereign, which she
took, saying:

“It is not for me to give good fortune or bad, but only to read what
the Stars have said.” She took his right hand and turned it palm
upward; but the instant her eyes met it she dropped it as though it had
been red hot, and, with a startled look, glided swiftly away. Lifting
the curtain of the large tent, which occupied the centre of the camp,
she disappeared within. “Sold again!” said the cynical Gerald. Joshua stood a little amazed,
and not altogether satisfied. They both watched the large tent. In a
few moments there emerged from the opening not the young girl, but a
stately looking woman of middle age and commanding presence. The instant she appeared the whole camp seemed to stand still. The
clamour of tongues, the laughter and noise of the work were, for a
second or two, arrested, and every man or woman who sat, or crouched,
or lay, stood up and faced the imperial looking gipsy. “The Queen, of course,” murmured Gerald. “We are in luck tonight.” The
gipsy Queen threw a searching glance around the camp, and then, without
hesitating an instant, came straight over and stood before Joshua. “Hold out your hand,” she said in a commanding tone. Again Gerald spoke, _sotto voce_: “I have not been spoken to in that
way since I was at school.”

“Your hand must be crossed with gold.”

“A hundred per cent. at this game,” whispered Gerald, as Joshua laid
another half sovereign on his upturned palm. The gipsy looked at the hand with knitted brows; then suddenly looking
up into his face, said:

“Have you a strong will—have you a true heart that can be brave for one
you love?”

“I hope so; but I am afraid I have not vanity enough to say ‘yes’.”

“Then I will answer for you; for I read resolution in your
face—resolution desperate and determined if need be. You have a wife
you love?”

“Yes,” emphatically. “Then leave her at once—never see her face again. Go from her now,
while love is fresh and your heart is free from wicked intent. Go
quick—go far, and never see her face again!”

Joshua drew away his hand quickly, and said, “Thank you!” stiffly but
sarcastically, as he began to move away. “I say!” said Gerald, “you’re not going like that, old man; no use in
being indignant with the Stars or their prophet—and, moreover, your
sovereign—what of it? At least, hear the matter out.”

“Silence, ribald!” commanded the Queen, “you know not what you do. Let
him go—and go ignorant, if he will not be warned.”

Joshua immediately turned back. “At all events, we will see this thing
out,” he said. “Now, madam, you have given me advice, but I paid for a
fortune.”

“Be warned!” said the gipsy. “The Stars have been silent for long; let
the mystery still wrap them round.”

“My dear madam, I do not get within touch of a mystery every day, and I
prefer for my money knowledge rather than ignorance. I can get the
latter commodity for nothing when I want any of it.”

Gerald echoed the sentiment. “As for me I have a large and unsaleable
stock on hand.”

The gipsy Queen eyed the two men sternly, and then said: “As you wish.