She suddenly let fall my hand, drew herself erect and receded a step, causing a momentary confusion amongst the passengers who stood immediately behind her. She muttered awhile, and then in a sort of singsong, drawling voice addressed me, as nearly as I can recollect, as follows:—
‘It is not true that you are a single woman as they are saying throughout this ship. It is nothing to me that you have no wedding ring, for what signifies the want of a wedding ring when a poor lady is found as you were, bleeding and insensible? What signifies a wedding ring, I say, to such as you, found as you were, my sorrowful lady?—for are there not thieves upon the sea as there are thieves upon the land? And I do not need to be told that a sailor may be a good man until he is tempted, and then he will turn thief; yes, he will turn thief, even though he would give all that he has stolen for a drink of water and a piece of biscuit.’
‘How extraordinary!’ I heard Mrs. Webber say.
‘Oh yes,’ continued the gipsy, slightly gesticulating with her right hand, ‘the wedding ring does not signify. You are a married woman. I have looked into your eyes and I have seen a husband there; I have looked into your eyes and I have seen children there. You are a married woman, my lady. I tell you that, and I will tell you more; you are a young married woman. You have not long been married. Your husband is mourning for you, but he will not mourn long. Give me your hand.’ She seized my hand with impassioned energy, and continued to speak with her eyes fixed upon the palm of it. ‘You will be long separated from your husband. A dark shadow will stand between you. Oh, it is very clear—here is the sign: it is the shadow of death, that will stand between you. It will roll away, but another shadow of death will take its place, and though it will not stand between you and your husband, it will be dark upon your soul, aye, even unto the grave.’
‘The woman certainly talks poetically,’ said Mrs. Lee, in a low voice in my ear, ‘and it is clever of her to say what it has not occurred to other people to think of.’
The gipsy viewed me with her bright eyes and her teeth bared, but apparently she had no more fortune to tell me.
‘I say, missis,’ exclaimed Sir Frederick Thompson, ‘I should like to have your opinion upon the lady’s quality. If she ain’t a titled woman, don’t she spring from a noble stock now?’
‘Ah, my pretty gentleman,’ whined the gipsy turning to view him, ‘The duckkerin dook does not tell me that.’
‘You’ve told fortunes enough in your time to be able to tell breeding, I hope, when you see it,’ said Sir Frederick.
‘Oh, my pretty gentleman,’ drawled the woman, ‘to us poor gipsies all the world is alike. We are all brothers and sisters, and those that are kind,’ said she, bobbing a curtsey at him, ‘we love best and think most of, and they are the true quality people of the earth.’