A strange shiver came over Betty Ives, a thrill such as she had never experienced before. She glanced at Dame Rachel. The old woman was nervously fingering the cards, and muttering to herself. Then her frightened eyes turned to her lover; he read some appeal in them.
He held out his hand, and caught hers and pressed it for one short second to his lips.
The door burst open, and the girl who had been singing came in; her black hair was all blown back, the great black eyes staring out of the small dark face. She drew her scanty cloak round her and laughed a shrill laugh.
"Will you have your fortunes told, my good gentleman? my pretty lady?" she cried. "Cross little Nora's palm with a silver sixpence then."
"No, no, we have had enough of that. Come, dear madam, we must be going," said Johnstone, and he conducted Betty to the place where Reuben, faithful to his trust, held the rein of her horse.
"Do not be so long without coming to see me again, dear heart," cried Rachel Ray, standing outside her door.
"No, no, I will come soon," answered Betty. Johnstone placed her in the saddle.
"A good gallop over the downs will bring back the colour to your cheek," he said softly. "You are so white and cold."
"There is something ill-omened in all here," said Betty with a slight shiver.
"Here, Nora," cried Johnstone, flinging her a piece of gold. "This is to make up for the loss of that silver sixpence."