He hesitated.
"Of course Mrs. Vandeleur doesn't know everything," he said at last, half laughing. "She is merely a remarkably close observer, and a good judge of character from the face and hand."
"But what did she say?" persisted Laline.
"She said," he answered, throwing his arm about her waist and drawing her closely to him, as though defying Fate to separate them, "that my love-affair would bring me a great deal of trouble, and that there would be sorrow and partings and evil wrought me by an enemy, until death should set me free."
Almost unconsciously, as he quoted the little sibyl's words, his tone changed from banter to deep seriousness; and to Laline there was something ominous and terrifying in Mrs. Vandeleur's prophecy.
"I can't bear to hear you repeat her words," she whispered, clinging to him as she spoke, "for to me also she prophesied that trouble—terrible trouble—would come into my life if once I let love enter my heart."
"And yet what trouble can come between you and me?" he asked, smoothing her brow with his hand as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Who can part us? No one, so far as I know, has either the power or the will to do so. My uncle is almost as anxious for my marriage as I am—and, if I had my way, it should take place to-morrow. Mrs. Vandeleur will offer no objection, I imagine, and, even if she did, she has no authority over you. Your health is good——"
"I never remember a day's real illness in my life."
"Nor do I. And here is your house ready for you. As to money to buy frocks and things—you have only to mention a sum and my uncle will send it to you by return of post. Nothing can part us now!"
"Don't, don't!" she exclaimed, laying her fingers on his lips—"it sounds like a challenge to Fate!"