Part 30 (1/2)

I was a little surprised--that's all. (_Recovering herself._) Now, Lucy, it's your turn. (_Nelly comes forward._) There, good woman, is your money. (_Nelly shakes her head, and refuses it._) How very strange!

Come, Lucy, let her tell your fortune, and then we'll go home.

_Lucy._ Nay, Agnes, I have no curiosity.

_Agnes._ I insist upon it, Lucy. I will not be the only foolish one. I shall retire until you call me.

_Lucy._ Well, then, as you please. I know my fortune but too well.

(_Sighs._) [_Agnes retires._

_Nelly._ (_looking Lucy earnestly in the face for a time_). You are perhaps come here for amus.e.m.e.nt. In olden times there were many false prophets; but still, some of them were true; so, in these days, there are many who pretend to our art, but really few who do possess it. Do you take this for a mocking matter?

_Lucy._ Why, really, good woman, I will not promise to believe all you may say, but I shall be glad to listen to it.

_Nelly._ I thought as much. But were I to tell you what is known only to yourself, would you then credit my a.s.serted powers?

_Lucy._ I should certainly feel more inclined.

_Nelly._ There are marks upon your person known but to yourself.

_Lucy._ 'Tis very possible.

_Nelly._ Can you recollect them?

_Lucy._ (_smiling incredulously_). Can you describe them?

_Nelly._ To prove my power before I read your destiny, I will. You have a large mole beneath your right shoulder. (_Lucy starts._) You have a scar on your instep by falling over a sickle in your infancy. Nay, more.

(_Nelly whispers her._)

_Lucy._ Merciful heavens!

_Nelly._ Are you satisfied?

_Lucy._ I'm a little frightened.

_Nelly._ So much to prove that I am no impostor. Now, let me see your hand. (_Lucy holds out her hand trembling._) You have lost your fortune, and your rank in society--but you will soon regain them. The cloud is dispersing from before the sun of your happiness. Sweet girl, I wish thee joy!

_Lucy._ What mean you?

_Nelly._ Others will tell you soon. There are two in the secret, Nelly Armstrong and Martha Bargrove.

_Lucy._ My mother!

_Nelly._ No, not your mother. I said, Martha Bargrove. (_Lets go her hand._) Lucy Etheridge, fare thee well. [_Exit Nelly._

_Lucy._ O G.o.d! Agnes, Agnes! (_Agnes runs up to her._)

_Agnes._ My dear Lucy, has she frightened you too?

_Lucy._ O yes! indeed she has. Let us go home, Miss Agnes, I am so unhappy.