t, had gained her a
reputation which filled the common mind with awe and fear.

"Well, Mary," said he, "what news from futurity? And, by the way, where
is futurity? Because if you don't know," he proceeded, laughing, "I
think I could tell you."

"Well," replied Mary, "let me hear it. Where is it, Mr. Reilly?"

"Why," he replied, "just at the point of your own nose, Mary, and you
must admit it is not a very long one; pure Milesian, Mary; a good deal
of the saddle in its shape."

The woman stood and looked at him for a few moments.

"My nose may be short," she replied, "but shorter will be the course of
your happiness."

"Well, Mary," he said, "I think as regards my happiness that you know as
little of it as I do myself. If you tell me any thing that has passed, I
may give you some credit for the future, but not otherwise."

"Do you wish to have your fortune tould, then," she asked, "upon them
terms?"

"Come, then, I don't care if I do. What has happened me, for instance,
within the last forty-eight hours?"

"That has happened you within the last forty-eight hours that will make
her you love the pity of the world before her time. I see how it will
happen, for the complaint I speak of is in the family. A living death
she will have, and you yourself during the same time will have little
less."

"But what has happened me, Mary?"

"I needn't tell you--you know--it. A proud heart, and a joyful heart,
and a lovin' heart, you carry now, but it will be a broken heart before
long."

"Why, Mary, this is an evil prophecy; have you nothing good to
foretell?"

"If it's a satisfaction to you to know, I will tell you: her love
for you is as strong, and stronger, than death itself; and it is the
suffering of what is worse than death, Willy Reilly, that will unite you
both at last."

Reilly started, and after a pause, in which he took it for granted that
Mary spoke merely from one of those shrewd conjectures which practised
impostors are so frequently in the habit of hazarding, replied, "That
won't do, Mary; you have told me nothing yet that has happened within
the last forty-eight hours. I deny the truth of what you say."

"It won't be long so, then, Mr. Reilly; you saved the life of the old
half-mad squire of Corbo. Yes, you saved his life, and you have taken
his daughter's! for indeed it would be better for her to die at wanst
than to suffer what will happen to you and her."

"Why, what is to happen?"

"You'll k