‘Probably some ancestor of hers was transported,’ answered Mrs. Lee. ‘He left descendants, and the woman is going to settle down amongst them. Gipsies were constantly being transported for theft of all sorts when I was a girl, in days when there were convict ships and when unhappy wretches were banished for life from their country for crimes which are now visited with a few months’ imprisonment. I am amazed that there should be any gipsies left. There was more prejudice against them than even against the Jews. They were hunted from town to town, the parish eye was never off them, and they were really so wicked, they committed so many sins, that it is amazing there should be any survivors of the prisons.’
Whilst Mrs. Lee was thus speaking, Mrs. Webber came sailing out of the crowd with a flushed face and a smile of excitement. Her flowing robe of white cashmere fluffed out in ample winding folds as she advanced, and she approached with an airy, floating gait that was like dancing.
‘Oh, Miss C——,’ she exclaimed, eagerly bending towards me, ‘I have been having my fortune told; and, do you know, the ugly creature is a witch; she is positively a witch! She has told me some extraordinary things, I assure you. My poor husband was silly enough to “hem” once or twice as though her prophecies disquieted him. Now, Miss C——, I want you to let the woman tell you your fortune.’
‘No, if you please, Mrs. Webber,’ I exclaimed.
‘Oh, but you must let her tell you your fortune,’ she repeated. ‘Mrs. Lee, I protest the creature is a witch. Do help me to persuade Miss C—— to let the woman look at her hand.’
‘These people profess to tell the future only,’ said Mrs. Lee smiling. ‘Can that woman there read the past—a past that is hidden in darkness? If she can,’ she continued, turning to me, ‘no harm can be done by your crossing her hand.’
‘Only think,’ cried Mrs. Webber, ‘if something she said, some question she put to you, should light up your memory.’
‘What could she invent that you or Mrs. Lee or Miss Lee could not ask?’ said I.
‘The woman is quite a witch,’ said Mrs. Webber, ‘you should give yourself a chance. How can you tell who may help you or what may inspire you?’
I looked at Alice. ‘I think Mrs. Webber is right,’ said she; ‘you never can tell what may awaken recollection.’