“My wife piques herself on her skill in judging of character by the physiognomy,” said Mr. Berwick, apologetically; “and I see you can’t make her believe she is wrong in this case. She sometimes gets impressions from the very handwriting of a person, and they often turn out wonderfully correct.”
“Has Mrs. Berwick the gift of second-sight? Is she a seeress?”
“Her faculty does not often show itself in soothsaying,” said Berwick. “But I have a step-mother who now and then has premonitions.”
“Do they ever find a fulfilment?”
“One time in a hundred, perhaps,” said Berwick. “If I believed in them largely, I should not be on board this boat.”
“Why so?” inquired Onslow.
“She predicts disaster to it.”
“But why did you not tell me that before?” asked Mrs. Berwick.
“Simply, my dear, because you are inclined to be superstitious.”
“Hear him, Mr. Onslow!” said Mrs. Berwick. “He calls me superstitious because I believe in spirits, whereas it is that belief which has cured me of superstition.”