“Do you doubt her knowledge, then?”
“No; at any rate, I can wait, since she is to be mine at last. Besides, I am to be rich. When I am thirty years old I am to be worth twenty thousand dollars.”
“I congratulate you, Wilbur,” said Phil, smiling. “You are all right, at least.”
“The next gentleman!” said the attendant.
Phil entered the inner room, and looked about him in curiosity.
A tall woman sat upon a sort of throne, with one hand resting on a table beside her. A tall wax-taper supplied the place of the light of day, which was studiously excluded from the room by thick, dark curtains. Over the woman's face was a black veil, which gave her an air of mystery.
“Come hither, boy!” she said, in a clear, commanding voice.
Phil advanced, not wholly unimpressed, though he felt skeptical.
The woman bent forward, starting slightly and scanned his face eagerly.