“Now tell me,” cried the crone, “what you especially seek to know.”
“I am a Pariah, mother.”
“That I need not be told, nor how the Pariah became rich. The eye that looks beyond the confines of this world can be no stranger to what passes within them.”
“Can you read my thoughts?”
“Ay;—thou wouldst marry a man of caste, but that may not be; yet shalt thou wed.”
“Never, I would sooner perish than wed a Pariah.”
“That thou wilt not do, and yet marry. Brahma never brought so comely a creature into this world to discredit his creation. Thou wilt be a propagator of beautiful sons and daughters; but I must look more closely to the lines of thy face through the darkness that now surrounds thee, before I can obtain a true sign of thy destiny. I must read the stars too, and that can only be done at night. Come to-morrow by this time, and thou shalt hear more; but let thy sleep be gentle: there is already a fair augury for thee. Parvati, conduct the Pariah to the light.” The dog immediately trotted from the dark extremity of the cavern, and, placing itself just without the entrance, gave a single short bark.
“You are summoned; to-morrow you will hear a more copious record. The volume of futurity is not read in a moment; its page is filled with characters which require the sage’s expounding. Come to-morrow, and do not forget your gold. If you would learn the secrets hid in the bosom of time, you must pay the price.”
Yhahil was disgusted at the impatient covetousness of the jiggerkhar, but her anxiety had become so predominant that she determined to purchase the promised prediction at whatever cost. She hastened to her home under a new but agreeable excitement. Like all her race, though naturally of a strong mind, she was superstitious. Superstition, in fact, was inseparable from the dogmas of that idolatrous creed in the belief of which she had been reared. Her two singular escapes from death had impressed her mind with a solemn assurance that she was fore-doomed to something uncommon. The impression haunted her, and she was impatient for the morrow, to hear her anxious longings confirmed by the oracle of the pythoness. Her father remarked the unusual vivacity of her manner, and was pleased, as it encouraged a hope that the root of her prejudice was losing its hold in her heart. The mother was no less overjoyed, and the outcast’s home was for that evening a scene of joy.
By noon the following day Yhahil was again at the jiggerkhar’s dwelling. The crone was seated as before with the mangy dog upon her lap, and, as the anxious girl approached, extended her hand, exposing her withered palm. Yhahil placed a mohur upon it, but the long fingers did not close over the gold. The coin remained unclutched, yet the hand continued extended. The hag’s countenance darkened, and her eye emitted a fierce lurid glare. Another mohur was placed upon the former. The fingers immediately compressed the two pieces of pure mintage, the old woman’s countenance relaxed into a subdued expression of gratified avarice, the dog again licked her face, as if it participated in her satisfaction, and, rising, she said, “Follow me.”