“Nearly four months had passed since Julia had first been stolen by the gipsy, and the party were encamped in a secluded hollow of Windsor Forest, about two miles distant from the town of Egham. The prospect of the races had drawn the gipsies to the spot. The number of the idle and the thoughtless which such a scene attracts, the pauses between the heats, to relieve the tediousness of which any amusement of the moment is eagerly caught at, promised a rich harvest to the tribe of whom fortune-telling was one of the most profitable callings. ‘I must have the loan of your puppet for the day, Keziah,’ said the old woman on the first morning of the races; ‘a pretty face at one’s back pays well on a race-course.’
“Keziah and Julia exchanged sorrowful looks; it was all they dared do, and even this was observed by the keen-eyed gipsy. She stooped her shrunk body so as to bring her withered face even with her victims, and grinding her teeth, muttered in a voice of suppressed fury, ‘And hark ye, good for nought, if thee dost but speak or look without my bidding, no fowl that thou hast seen plucked and roasted by our crackling fire, has ever died the death that thou shalt.’ Then pausing to enforce the warning, she pointed her skinny finger, and shook her grizzly head, and ordered Keziah to ‘pack the bantling on her back.’ The girl obeyed, and as she arranged the folds of the cloak so as to shade her poor favourite from the scorching rays of the sun, she imprinted a kiss and a tear on her pale, pale cheek.
“Once more, then, the terrified Julia found herself in the grasp of her cruel enemy, who, without speaking to her again, tramped on at a rapid pace towards the race-course.
“The sight of the gay carriages filled with ladies (‘such looking ladies,’ thought poor Julia, ‘as her mama’s friends used to be,’) brought a momentary gleam of joy to her mind; but it vanished in an instant, for, as if guessing the feeling, the old gipsy made a sudden stop, and turning back her head, again shook her grizzly locks, again pointed her bony finger, and grinning horribly, muttered the terrible word—‘Remember!’
“Many were the silver coins which were grasped in the old gipsy’s hand that day. With the cunning of her tribe, she knew how to adapt her language to the temper of each party that she addressed. To the young and trifling she presented herself as a shrewd and flattering fortune-teller; to the old and grave, as a starving beggar, with an orphan grand-child depending on her for support; and many a copper coin was exchanged for one of silver, when the donor chanced to cast a look at the pale and innocent face which looked sadly from the gipsy’s shoulder.
“Among the former description of parties one now attracted the old woman’s notice. An open barouche contained a lady, with two or three merry-looking girls, who might be her daughters: they were gaily chattering with their brothers and their brother’s friends, some of whom were hanging about the carriage, and others coaxing their horses to stand patiently near it.
“‘Do ye draw off your glove from your pretty white hand, and let me just cross the marks with a bit of silver.’
“‘We don’t want our fortunes told, my good woman,’ said the elder lady.
“‘Not you I know, my lady; your’s is made already, and a happy one it is, my lady; but these pretty young ladies would surely like to know.’
“‘Do send the woman away, George,’ said Mrs. Carleton, addressing her son, ‘I am quite sure she will get knocked down among all these horses, and that poor child at her back looks frightened out of its very senses.’