"Miss Benette! what do you mean? You cannot tell fortunes!"
"But Thoné can. She is a gypsy,—a real gypsy, Master Auchester, though she was naughty, and married out of her tribe."
"What tribe?"
"Hush!" said Clara, whisperingly; "she is in my other room at work, and she would be wroth if she thought I was talking about her."
"But you said she cannot speak English."
"Yes; but she always has a feeling when I am speaking about her. Such people have,—their sympathies are so strong."
Now, it happened we had often talked over gypsies and their pretensions in our house, and various had been the utterances of our circle. Lydia doomed them all as imposters; my mother, who had but an ideal notion of them, considered, as many do, that they somehow pertained to Israel. Clo presumed they were Egyptian, because of their contour and their skill in pottery,—though, by the way, she had never read upon the subject, as she always averred. But Millicent was sufficient for me at once, when she had said one day, "At least they are a distinct race, and possess in an eminent degree the faculty of enforcing faith in the supernatural by the exercise of physical and spiritual gifts that only act upon the marvellous."
I always understood Millicent, whatever she said, and I had often talked with her about them. I rather suspect she believed them in her heart to be Chaldean. I must confess, notwithstanding, that I was rather nervous when Miss Benette announced, with such child-like assurance, her intuitive credence in their especial ability to discern and decipher destiny.
I said, "Do you think she can, then?"
"Perhaps it is vulgar to say 'tell fortunes,' but what I mean is, that she could tell, by casting her eyes over you, and looking into your eyes, and examining your brow, what kind of life you are most fit for, and what you would make out of it."