nts will be
dead, and you hurrying from your rich, splendid home to seek your
fortune in a distant country. You will seem to prosper for a while, and
then it blackens again. You can see yourself," she added, holding the
cup before the young man's face, "that black clump in the bottom."

"I see only a few tea-grounds your turnings and shakings have settled
together," remarked he, carelessly.

"Destiny placed them as they are, young men," said the hag, solemnly.

"May be so," he added; "but tell me, how long shall I live? Shall I be
successful in love, and will my lady be handsome?"

"Thou wilt live longer than thou wilt wish; ay, drag on many years when
thou wouldst fain be sleeping in the earth's cold bed! Thou wilt
love,--thou wilt marry, and thy lady will be beautiful as the day-star."

"Enough, enough!" exclaimed the youth, starting to his feet. "Do you
hear, Jack? Is not mine a brave fortune? I shall love, marry, and my
wife will be a goddess of beauty."

"Yes," said the crone; "but mark, she will not love you."

"Whew! How is that? Not love me? And wherefore not, old woman?"

"Because she will love another," repeated the hag in a low, but firm,
decided tone.

"But you are spoiling your fair pictures, Aunt Patty," said Hardin.

"Destiny is destiny," said she with a solemn look.

"Ay, yes; I forgot!" he exclaimed, laughing gayly. "Come, Sumpter, let's
be off. I am afraid our good seeress will discover you and I fighting a
duel in that ominous cup, or brewing a tempest in her teapot."

"Ha, ha, ha! it is not impossible," ejaculated Sumpter. "Now I believe
she did say I would go out of the world in a terrible uproar, shooting
somebody or getting shot myself. Which was it, dame?"

"Time will tell you soon enough, young man," returned the woman, in an
angry, scornful tone.

"O, don't be cross, good Aunt Patty!" he said, noticing her dark looks;
"don't mind my balderdash. Here's another piece of silver for you. Now,
good-night, and long live Scraggiewood and the seeress, Madam Belcher!"

"Good-night, young men, and God bless ye, I say!" exclaimed the crone,
her eye brightening at sight of the silver.

"Just tell me the name of the little sleeper," said Sumpter, lingering a
moment, while Hardin turned the carriage which had brought them to the
forest-cottage.

"What do you want to know her name for?" asked Aunt Patty.

"O, because she resembles a sister I lost," returned Sumpter after a
brief hesitatio