"Without the slightest apprehension," answered Colonel Manners, laughing. "They may try their chiromancy on me, when they please, and do me all the harm they can for half a crown, which is, I believe, the stipulated sum."
"That is, because you are a man and a hero," replied Miss Falkland, in the same gay tone, "and you are bound by honour and profession to be afraid of nothing; but remember, I look upon it as an agreement--you are to have your fortune told this very day, and that will do for the whole party; for I will not have mine told, and I am sure Marian shall not, if I can prevent it."
"Oh, I will be the scape-goat, with all my heart," he replied; "but I suppose we cannot be far from their encampment, if your computation of miles be correct."
"We are close to the high-road," answered Miss Falkland; "but how far up the hill they are, you best know. However, let us wait for Edward and Marian. We must not make the babes in the wood of them; and of course they are a good way behind. Now, I dare say, while you and Edward were in America, you heard of Marian de Vaux till you were tired--was it not so, Colonel Manners?"
"No, indeed," he answered, smiling; "far from it, I can assure you. Although I long ago found out by various infallible signs that De Vaux was in love; yet, never till circumstances had produced esteem and friendship, and friendship had become intimacy, did he ever mention his engagement, or the object of his attachment."
"And then he doubtless painted her in very glowing colours," added Isadore, trying strenuously to while away the time till her cousins came up, they having lingered behind farther than she had expected.
"Oh, of course, all lovers are like the old painter Arellius," answered Colonel Manners, "and always paint the objects of their love as goddesses. But I will not gratify your malice, Miss Falkland; De Vaux has too fine a sense of the ridiculous ever to render himself so by exaggerating any feeling."
"He has, indeed, too fine a sense of the ridiculous," answered Isadore; "it is his worst fault, Colonel Manners; and I fear that, like all the rest of our faults, it may some day prove his own bane; but here they come! Now, Colonel Manners, prepare to hear your fate. Edward, here is your friend going to have his fortune told."
"You mean going to give half a crown to a gipsy," said De Vaux; "but if you are serious, Manners, I will, of course, stand by you to the last, as if you were going to fight a duel, or any other unreasonable thing. Turn to the left and you will see the appointed place, as the newspapers call it, before you."
In this expectation, however, De Vaux was mistaken; for the gipsies and their accompaniments, men, women, and children, pots, kettles, and tents, had all disappeared. It must not be said, indeed, that they had left no vestige of their abode behind them, for half a dozen black spots burnt in the turf, and more than one pile of white wood ashes, attested the extent of their encampment; but nothing else was to be seen in the green wood, except the old oaks, and the yellow sunshine streaming through the rugged boughs, with a squirrel balancing itself on the branch of a fir, and two noisy jays screaming from tree to tree.