she would have crushed it into nothing. And
yet almost the self-same glance that showed him this, showed him the
self-same lady rising with a scornful air of weariness and lassitude,
and turning away with nothing expressed in face or figure but careless
beauty and imperious disdain.

A withered and very ugly old woman, dressed not so much like a gipsy as
like any of that medley race of vagabonds who tramp about the country,
begging, and stealing, and tinkering, and weaving rushes, by turns, or
all together, had been observing the lady, too; for, as she rose, this
second figure strangely confronting the first, scrambled up from the
ground--out of it, it almost appeared--and stood in the way.

'Let me tell your fortune, my pretty lady,' said the old woman, munching
with her jaws, as if the Death's Head beneath her yellow skin were
impatient to get out.

'I can tell it for myself,' was the reply.

'Ay, ay, pretty lady; but not right. You didn't tell it right when you
were sitting there. I see you! Give me a piece of silver, pretty lady,
and I'll tell your fortune true. There's riches, pretty lady, in your
face.'

'I know,' returned the lady, passing her with a dark smile, and a proud
step. 'I knew it before.

'What! You won't give me nothing?' cried the old woman. 'You won't give
me nothing to tell your fortune, pretty lady? How much will you give me
to tell it, then? Give me something, or I'll call it after you!' croaked
the old woman, passionately.

Mr Carker, whom the lady was about to pass close, slinking against his
tree as she crossed to gain the path, advanced so as to meet her, and
pulling off his hat as she went by, bade the old woman hold her peace.
The lady acknowledged his interference with an inclination of the head,
and went her way.

'You give me something then, or I'll call it after her!' screamed
the old woman, throwing up her arms, and pressing forward against his
outstretched hand. 'Or come,' she added, dropping her voice suddenly,
looking at him earnestly, and seeming in a moment to forget the object
of her wrath, 'give me something, or I'll call it after you!'

'After me, old lady!' returned the Manager, putting his hand in his
pocket.

'Yes,' said the woman, steadfast in her scrutiny, and holding out her
shrivelled hand. 'I know!'

'What do you know?' demanded Carker, throwing her a shilling. 'Do you
know who the handsome lady is?'

Munching like that sailor's wife of yore, who had ch