Part 1 (2/2)
”I'd be all puffed up with pride and vanity, I suppose,” Peter nodded his still golden head, though Time's caressing fingers had burnished the yellow to a deeper bronze.
”You'll break mother's heart,” suggested Julie, but in a hopelessly resigned tone.
”Only the same old break, sister, and it's been cracked and mended so many times, I'm sure it'll stand another smash.”
”Oh, he's going, and that's all there is about it,” said Carlotta with the air of a fatalist.
”I'm going,” Peter a.s.sented, ”but that isn't all there is about it. I'm coming back!” and he looked at the girl with unmistakable intent.
”Maybe and maybe not,” she returned, with crus.h.i.+ng carelessness, whether real or a.s.sumed.
”Yes, indeed, maybe and maybe not!” put in Julie. ”You don't know about the prophecy, Carly! Shall I tell her, Peter?”
”Tell me, of course,” and Miss Harper looked eagerly interested. ”Who prophesied what? and when?”
”Oh, it was years ago,” Julie began, ”we met a lot of gypsies, and mother would have them tell the family fortunes. And one of them said that Peter would go off on a long journey and that he would die a terrible death and never come home.”
”Oh,” Carly shuddered, ”don't tell me any more!”
”But the more is the best part of it,” said Peter, smiling; ”you see, mother was so upset by this direful news, that another gypsy took pity on her and amended my cruel fate. The second seeress declared that I must meet the destiny number one had dealt me, but that to mitigate the family grief, I would return afterwards.”
”As a spook?” cried Carlotta, ”how interesting!”
”Perhaps; but it doesn't interest me at present You see, this trip is not the fatal one----”
”How do you know?” from Julie.
”Oh, it's too soon. That old prophecy isn't fairly ripe yet. Moreover, I'm not ready for it. I'm going to Labrador,--and I'm coming back,--and then, if all goes well, perhaps I'll never want to go away again. And if not,----” he looked at Carly, ”I may be glad to take the last and final trip! But if I go on with the program and return as my own ghost, I'll lead you girls a dance! I'll haunt you in season and out of season!”
”Pooh, I'm not afraid,” Carly tossed her head; ”I've no faith in any of this spiritist foolery.”
”Don't call it foolery, my child,” said a serious voice, as Peter's father came into the room.
Benjamin Crane gave the impression of power and gentleness, a fine combination and rarely seen in its perfection. A man of sixty, he looked older, for his thick hair was white and his smoothly shaven face was lined with deep furrows.
He joined the group of young people, and it was indicative of his nature that there was no pause in the conversation or appearance of constraint of any sort.
”But it is foolery, Mr. Crane,” Carlotta defended, ”I've tried the Ouija Board myself, and it's a silly business.”
”Not so silly as to condemn something you know little or nothing about,”
Mr. Crane said, in his serious, kindly way. ”My dear Carlotta, even though you don't 'believe in' the supernatural, do try to realize that your lack of belief doesn't bar the rest of us from having faith in revelation.”
”Oh, that's all right, Mr. Crane,” Carly wasn't a bit offended, ”don't mind me! Believe all you want to. But, do you believe in this 'Gypsy's Warning' about Peter? That's different, you know, from the usual claptrap.”
”It's not exactly a question of belief,” Mr. Crane said, slowly. ”You will, I am sure, agree that Peter may be killed on some of these wild and dangerous adventures in which his soul delights. Let us hope the day is far off, if it must come at all. And as to his spirit's return,--that is, of course, possible,--to my mind, at least.”
”If possible, then extremely probable,” declared Peter, laughing; ”I've just told the girls, Dad, that I'll haunt them like a continuous performance, if conditions allow. Want me to appear to you, too?”
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