He extended it, with a smile, and she took it in hers, and peered into it. What a contrast they were! his, white, small, and delicate; her hand, bronzed and rough.
“Well, mother, what has destiny in store for me?”
“Much good or more evil. This night decides thy destiny; either thou shalt be blessed for life, or if the scale turns against thee—then woe to thee! Stand aside—the earl comes.”
A tall, distinguished-looking man, of middle-age, approached, and looked with grave surprise on the group before him.
“A word with you, lord-earl,” said the gipsy, confronting him.
“Speak out, then.”
“It must be in private.”
“Who are you?” said the earl, surprised and curious.
“I am called the gipsy queen, Ketura,” said the woman, drawing herself up.
“And what do you want of me, woman?”