_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.