_Nelly._ Did not I, the priestess of the stars, tell you so?

_Peter._ But if I am no son of his, the question is, "Whose son am I?"

_Nelly._ A gentleman's son, no doubt. But I shall discover more when I consult the stars anon. You must return.

_Peter._ That I surely will. Consult the old stars, if you please.

_Nelly._ I always do, sir; no dependence upon the others. In fact, we've quarrelled. I am hardly on speaking terms with them.

_Peter._ Speaking terms with the stars! How intimate you must be!

_Nelly._ You'll have to cross my hand again. Golden truths will not come out without gold.

_Peter._ What! gold again?

_Nelly._ Yes, another guinea. One for telling you who you are not, and another for telling you who you are. Don't you see?

_Peter._ One for telling me who I am not. Yes, that's told; I am not my father's son. They say it's a wise man who knows his own father.

_Nelly._ Wisely said.

_Peter._ And another for telling me who I am. Well, I think that is as well worth a guinea as the other.

_Nelly._ Better, I should imagine.

_Peter._ Yes, better. Well, good-bye, good woman. I'll be sure to be here.

_Nelly._ Fail not, or you'll repent it. (_Exit Peter._) The gudgeon takes the bait kindly. Peter, Peter, you had always an immense swallow.

When Sally Stone nursed him, she was forced to feed the little cormorant with a tablespoon. As far as I can see, notwithstanding his partnership education with the young Squire, I think the grown babe should be fed with spoon-meat still. But what dainty la.s.ses are these that come this way? Lucy and Miss Etheridge--how fortunate!

_Enter Agnes and Lucy._

_Lucy._ There is the woman; so, if you are inclined to hear her nonsense, you must wait the Sibyl's pleasure.

_Agnes._ I hope she will not keep us long, or my brother will arrive before we return. (_Nelly advances._)

_Nelly._ Save you, fair lady! which of you will first look into futurity?

_Lucy._ This young lady. (_Pointing to Agnes._)

_Nelly._ Then you must retire out of hearing.

_Agnes._ No, no; I have no secrets from her. She must stay.

_Nelly._ That cannot be, my art will be useless, and I decline the task.

_Lucy._ Yield to her mummery, it can make no difference.

_Agnes._ Well, then, Lucy, don't go far away.

_Lucy._ I'll be out of hearing, but not out of sight.

[_Lucy retires, and amuses herself in collecting flowers._

_Nelly._ Your name is Agnes.

_Agnes._ (_laughing_). I know that; and I am the daughter of Sir Gilbert of the Hall. Come, I'll help you, good woman.

_Nelly._ I did not say the last.

_Agnes._ What do you mean?

_Nelly._ I only said that your name was Agnes.

_Agnes._ Well, and I told you more than you knew.

_Nelly._ The stars reveal not what you a.s.sert.

_Agnes._ Well, then, I do; so I know more than the stars.

_Nelly._ You are wrong. You know not so much. You are not what you think you are.

_Agnes._ In the name of wonder, what do you mean?

_Nelly._ I have said it. Let me see your hand. Your fate is a dark one!

Poor young lady! You will be crossed in everything.

_Agnes._ (_laughing faintly_). Love included, I suppose. Shall I not marry the man of my affections?

_Nelly._ If he is more generous than men usually are.

_Agnes._ I cannot understand you.

_Nelly._ There is a dark cloud hanging over your fate. The storm will soon rage. Poor young lady!

_Agnes._ You almost frighten me. Speak more intelligibly.

_Nelly._ I have said enough. Agnes _Bargrove_, fare thee well!

_Agnes._ (_astonished_). Agnes Bargrove! what can she mean? Good woman, will you not tell me more?

_Nelly._ Go home, you will soon hear more from others. (_Aside._) The wound is given; let it fester. (_Nelly retires._)

_Agnes._ Lucy, Lucy! (_Lucy advances._)

_Lucy._ Dear Agnes, how confused you are! What can be the matter?

_Agnes._ (_much flurried_). I can hardly tell. The woman was so strange.