“You flatter me, good Sanders,” she replied bitterly; “I am no longer young enough to be deceived by such follies. Here is a maid whose fortune should smile like her face,” she added, pointing to Mistress Betty, who stood near her; “your arts should weave a tale of love and happiness for youth and beauty.”
“I cast her horoscope this noon at the Blue Boar,” the wizard said, with a queer smile. “Venus was in fortunate conjunction with Mars when Mistress Carew was born.”
“Did you learn that by striking my horse, Master Sanders?” Betty retorted, with a mischievous glance from under her black lashes.
The astrologer looked at her with an immovable face.
“You are mistaken,” he said calmly; “I touched not the beast. It sometimes happens that these dumb creatures recognize a power more than human, and are so thrown into a convulsion of terror.”
“With your aid?” persisted the young girl, laughing incredulously, and even the queen smiled.
“My young mistress is inclined to jest,” Sanders remarked grimly, “and to make light of my art, but this will not be so when she talks to her affianced husband.”
“My affianced husband!” exclaimed Betty, with indignation; “you are much in error in good sooth, for I am not promised.”
The wizard looked at her and laughed, his brilliant eyes almost fascinating the young girl’s startled gaze.
“You were promised in your cradle, and a lovely mate you are like to get, Mistress Carew,” he answered quietly, with such a tone of certainty that Betty experienced a sharp sensation of apprehension.