“Which will learn their fate first?”
“Blanche, do you.”
“Oh, no, dear; let her tell you first, and then I will try,” answered Blanche, falteringly.
“Well, then, good mother, tell mine.”
She turned the bottle of water slowly head downwards; then raising it, apparently contemplating something she saw in the liquid, shook her head, and said,—
“A short lived happiness; then clouds, darkness, and sadness await you; yet out of this sadness shall come a lasting, quiet joy; durable, because it shall be based on proper feelings; and love shall crown all, in future years.”
“But, mother, your words are mysterious, incomprehensible to me. Pray tell me in plain language what awaits me. I cannot understand your symbols.”
“I have said all I can say; recollect my words,—their meaning will be clear as sunlight, when they shall be verified in times to come. Now you,” to Blanche. Again the bottle was reversed, and she pored over its hidden meaning.
“A short but bright career; an ill-fated love; a sudden and violent death, and a solitary grave;—this your fate,” and she glared at Blanche with those wild eyes.
I noticed the sudden start of surprise, and glowing blush which overspread the face of my friend at these words. Had she in secret conceived an “ill-fated love?” or was it the unexpectedness of the prophecy caused that start?