Charles Auchester Volume I Part 15

You have made me so dreadfully curious. I should not think of telling him you had told me. Now, what did you do for him that made him say so?"

She replied, with an innocence the sister of which I have never seen through all my dreams of woman,--

"Mr. Davy was so condescending as to ask me one day whether I would be his wife,--sometime when I am grown up. And I said, No. I think that was the good I did him."

I shall never forget the peculiar startled sensation that struck through me. I had never entertained such a notion, or any notion of the kind about anybody; and about her it was indeed new, and to me almost an awe.

"The good you did him, Miss Benette!" I cried in such a scared tone that she dropped her work into her lap. "I should have thought it would have done him more good if you had said, Yes."

"You are very kind to think so," she replied, in a tone like a confiding child's to a superior in age,--far from like an elder's to one so young as myself,--"but I know better, Master Auchester. It was the only thing I could do to show my grat.i.tude."

"Were you sorry to say No, Miss Benette?"

"No; very glad and very pleased."

"But it is rather odd. I should have thought you would have liked to say, Yes. You do not love him, then?"

"Oh! yes, I do, well. But I do not wish to belong to him, nor to any one,--only to music now; and besides, I should not have had his love.

He wished to marry me that he might take care of me. But when he said so, I answered, 'Sir, I can take care of myself.'"

"But, Miss Benette, how much should one love, and how, then, if one is to marry? For I do not think all people marry for love!"

"You are not old enough to understand, and I am not old enough to tell you," she said sweetly, with her eyes upon her work as usual, "nor do I wish to know. If some people marry not for love, what is that to me?

I am not even sorry for them,--not so sorry as I am for those who know not music, and whom music does not know."

"Oh! they are worse off!" I involuntarily exclaimed. "Do you think I am 'known of music,' Miss Benette?"

"I daresay; for you love it, and will serve it. I cannot tell further, I am not wise. Would you like to have your fortune told?"

"Miss Benette! what do you mean? You cannot tell fortunes!"

"But Thone can. She is a gypsy,--a real gypsy, Master Auchester, though she was naughty, and married out of her tribe."

"What tribe?"

"Hus.h.!.+" said Clara, whisperingly; "she is in my other room at work, and she would be wroth if she thought I was talking about her."

"But you said she cannot speak English."

"Yes; but she always has a feeling when I am speaking about her. Such people have,--their sympathies are so strong."

Now, it happened we had often talked over gypsies and their pretensions in our house, and various had been the utterances of our circle. Lydia doomed them all as imposters; my mother, who had but an ideal notion of them, considered, as many do, that they somehow pertained to Israel. Clo presumed they were Egyptian, because of their contour and their skill in pottery,--though, by the way, she had never read upon the subject, as she always averred. But Millicent was sufficient for me at once, when she had said one day, "At least they are a distinct race, and possess in an eminent degree the faculty of enforcing faith in the supernatural by the exercise of physical and spiritual gifts that only act upon the marvellous."

I always understood Millicent, whatever she said, and I had often talked with her about them. I rather suspect she believed them in her heart to be Chaldean. I must confess, notwithstanding, that I was rather nervous when Miss Benette announced, with such child-like a.s.surance, her intuitive credence in their especial ability to discern and decipher destiny.

I said, "Do you think she can, then?"

"Perhaps it is vulgar to say 'tell fortunes,' but what I mean is, that she could tell, by casting her eyes over you, and looking into your eyes, and examining your brow, what kind of life you are most fit for, and what you would make out of it."

"Oh, how I should like her to tell me!"

"She shall, then, if she may come in. But your half-hour has pa.s.sed."

"Oh, do just let me stay a little!"

"You shall, of course, if you please, sir; only do not feel obliged."

She arose and walked out of the room, closing the door. I could catch her tones through the wall, and she returned in less than a minute.

There was something startling, almost to appall, in the countenance of the companion she ushered, coming close behind her. I can say that that countenance was all eye,--a vivid and burning intelligence concentred in orbs whose darkness was really light, flas.h.i.+ng from thence over every feature. Thone was neither a gaunt nor a great woman, though tall; her hands were beautifully small and slender, and though she was as brunette as her eye was dark, she was clear as that darkness was itself light. The white cap she wore contrasted strangely with that rich hue, like sun-gilt bronze. She was old, but modelled like a statue, and her lips were keen, severe, and something scornful.

It was amazing to me to see how easily Miss Benette looked and worked before this prodigy; I was speechless. Thone took my hand in hers, and feeling I trembled, she said some quick words to Clara in a species of Low German, whose accent I could not understand, and Clara replied in the same. I would have withdrawn my hand, for I was beginning to fear something dreadful in the way of an oracle, but Thone led me with irrepressible authority to the window. Once there, she fastened upon me an almost feeling glance, and having scanned me a while, drew out all my fingers one by one with a pressure that cracked every sinew of my hand and arm. At last she looked into my palm, but made no muttering, and did not appear trying to make out anything but the streaks and texture of the skin. It could not have been ten minutes that had pa.s.sed when she let fall my hand, and addressing Clara in a curt, still manner, without smile or comment, uttered in a voice whose echoes haunt me still,--for the words were rare as music,--"Tonkunst und Arzenei."[10]

I knew enough of German to interpret these, at all events, and as I stood they pa.s.sed into my being by conviction, they being indeed truth.

Clara approached me. "Are you satisfied? Music _is_ medicine, though, I think; do not you?"

She smiled with sweet mischief.

"Oh, Miss Benette, thank you a thousand times! for whether it is to be true or not, I think it is a very good fortune to be told. Has she told you yours?"

"Yes, often; at least as much as she told you about yourself, she has revealed to me."

"Can she tell all people their fortunes?"

"I will ask her."

She turned to our bright Fate and spoke. On receiving a short, low reply, as Thone left the room, she again addressed me. "She says, 'I cannot prophesy for the pure English, if there be any, because the letters of their characters are not distinct. All I know in all, is how much there is of ours in each.'"

"I don't know what she means."

"No more do I."

"Oh, Miss Benette, you do!" For her arch smile fluttered over her lips.

"So I do; but, Master Auchester, it is getting very late,--you must go, unless I may give you some tea. And your mother would like you to be home. Therefore, go now."

I wanted to shake hands with her, but she made no show of willingness, so I did not dare, and instantly I departed. What a wonderful spell it was that bound me to the dull lane at the end of the town! Certainly it is out of English life in England one must go for the mysteries and realities of existence. I was just in time for our tea. As I walked into the parlor the fire shone, and so did the kettle, singing to itself; for in our English life we eschewed urns. Clo was reading, Lydia at the board, Millicent was cutting great slices of homemade bread. I thought to myself, "How differently we all manage here! If Millicent did but dare, I know she would behave and talk like Miss Benette."

"How is the young lady this afternoon, Charles? I wish you to ask her to come and drink tea with us on Sunday after service."

"Yes, mother; is Mr. Davy coming?"

"He promised the other night."

"And Charles," added Clo, "do not forget that you must go with me to-morrow and be measured for a jacket."

"I am to wear one at last, then?"

"Yes, for now you are really growing too tall for frocks."