“I have often thought of a gypsy who told my fortune 165 once. She gave me nothing but riches and a life of pleasure. Soon after she told Guy’s fortune, and really he was to be just as happy all his life as I.”
“I am sure that is pleasant to think of.”
“Yes, but it would be very strange if we were both happy all our life. No one ever is happy always.”
“Very few,” said Scott, and then his mind dwelt on the scenes which had passed, and he thought of the gypsy woman’s words: “You will marry a beautiful woman, and there will be tears and the stain of blood on your hands.” His lip curled in scorn at the thought of crime. He turned again to his book, and, though he had not the least idea of allowing himself to think of the old gypsy’s words, there came now and then to his mind the words that he had scarce thought of since he had heard them from her lips. He would now and then cast his eyes toward Carrie, thinking what a sweet, amiable, home-loving girl she was. How happy she would yet make some one.
Guy had called on June for a special purpose. He had made up his mind that there was one question that he wanted to ask June. Thus, when Carrie so generously offered to leave them alone, Guy very readily accepted the favor. June had been playing a soft air on her harp, and when Guy entered she arose to welcome him. June was practical, and she treated Guy as a friend, though she was keen enough to see that his intentions meant something more than friendship.
“I have come, as I told you I would,” said Guy, seating himself beside June, “to speak on a very important subject. Have you any idea what it is?”
“I suppose I have,” said June, as the color rose to her face.
“Then you are prepared for it?”
“I suppose I shall be.”