"Nothing can be bad in the future of faces like yours, dear hearts," said Rachel, rapidly shuffling the cards.
Some minutes passed, the gipsy busily and with growing discomfiture turning the cards, trying them in every way—the two were silent.
Betty leant her head on her hand, shading her eyes from view, full of shyness for the first time in her bold young life. John Johnstone gazed on her with his soul in his eyes, and yet with a strange impatient interest in the business that was going on.
Presently Rachel flung all the cards down with violence.
"I am losing the trick of the trade," she said, in a harsh, frightened voice. "I am getting afraid of the cards, and when you are afraid of them, they master you."
"Tut, tut!" said John kindly. "Do not blame yourself, good mother, if they show not all the gilded coaches and six, and the lovely bride and gay bridegroom you would fain have promised us."
"The combinations turn to evil—all evil. Pah! it is the old story. I was afraid of the cards, and they have mastered me."
"Was there no warning conveyed in these strange combinations, Dame?" asked Johnstone eagerly.
"I deal not in warnings," said Rachel hastily.
"Did I deal in warnings, the reading of the cards might prove useful to you both."