Part 12 (2/2)
”I don't believe a word of it, Molly; but granting that it be true, how do you know it?”
”That's more than I can tell myself, sir,” she replied. ”A feelin' comes over me, and I can't help speakin' the words as they rise to my lips.”
”Well, Molly, here's a s.h.i.+lling for you now; but I want you to see my daughter's hand till I hear what you have to say for her. Are you a Papist, Molly?”
”No, your honor, I was one wanst; but the moment we take to this way of life we mustn't belong to any religion, otherwise we couldn't tell the future.”
”Sell yourself to the devil, eh?”
”Oh, no, sir; but--”
”But what? Out with it.”
”I can't, sir; if I did, I never could tell a fortune agin.”
”Well--well; come up; I have taken a fancy that you shall tell my daughter's for all that.”
”Surely there can be nothing but happiness before her, sir; she that is so good to the poor and distressed; she that has all the world admirin'
her wonderful beauty. Sure, they say, her health was drunk in the Lord Lieutenant's house in the great Castle of Dublin, as the Lily of the Plains of Boyle and the Star of Ireland.”
”And so it was, Molly, and so it was; there's another s.h.i.+lling for you. Come now, come up to the house, and tell her fortune; and mark me, Molly, no flattery now--nothing but the truth, if you know it.”
”Did I flatter you, sir?”
”Upon my honor, any thing but that, Molly; and all I ask is that you won't flatter her. Speak the truth, as I said before, if you know it.”
Miss Folliard, on being called down by her father to have her fortune told, on seeing Molly, drew back and said, ”Do not ask me to come in direct contact with this woman, papa. How can you, for one moment, imagine that a person of her life and habits could be gifted with that which has never yet been communicated to mortal (the holy prophets excepted)--a knowledge of futurity?”
”No matter, my darling, no matter; give her your hand; you will oblige and gratify me.”
”Here, then, dear papa, to please you--certainly.”
Molly took her lovely hand, and having looked into it, said, turning to the squire, ”It's very odd, sir, but here's nearly the same thing that I tould to you awhile ago.”
”Well, Molly,” said he, ”let us hear it.”
Miss Folliard stood with her snowy hand in that of the fortune-teller, perfectly indifferent to her art, but not without strong feelings of disgust at the ordeal to which she submitted.
”Now, Molly,” said the squire, ”what have you to say?”
”Here's love,” she replied, ”love in the wrong direction--a false step is made that will end in misery--and--and--and--”
”And what, woman?” asked Miss Folliard, with an indignant glance at the fortune-teller. ”What have you to add?”
”No!” said she, ”I needn't speak it, for it won't come to pa.s.s. I see a man of wealth and t.i.tle who will just come in in time to save you from shame and destruction, and with him you will be happy.”
”I could prove to you,” replied the _Cooleen Dawn_, her face mantling with blushes of indignation, ”that I am a better prophetess than you are. Ask her, papa, where she last came from.”
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