m in curiosity.

A tall woman sat upon a sort of throne, with one hand resting on a table
beside her. A tall wax-taper supplied the place of the light of day,
which was studiously excluded from the room by thick, dark curtains.
Over the woman's face was a black veil, which gave her an air of
mystery.

"Come hither, boy!" she said, in a clear, commanding voice.

Phil advanced, not wholly unimpressed, though he felt skeptical.

The woman bent forward, starting slightly and scanned his face eagerly.

CHAPTER XV.

PHIL AND THE FORTUNE-TELLER.

"Do you wish to hear of the past or the future?" asked the
fortune-teller.

"Tell me something of the past," said Phil, with a view of testing the
knowledge of the seeress.

"You have left an uncongenial home to seek your fortune in New York.
You left without regret, and those whom you have left behind do not miss
you."

Phil started in amazement. This was certainly true.

"Shall I find the fortune I seek?" asked our hero earnestly.

"Yes, but not in the way you expect. You think yourself alone in the
world!"

The fortune-teller paused, and looked searchingly at the boy.

"So I am," returned Phil.

"No boy who has a father living can consider himself alone."

"My father is dead!" returned Phil, growing skeptical.

"You are mistaken."

"I am not likely to be mistaken in such a matter. My father died a few
months since."

"Your father still lives!" said the fortune-teller sharply. "Do not
contradict me!"

"I don't see how you can say that. I attended his funeral."

"You attended the funeral of the man whose name you bear. He was not
your father."

Phil was much excited by this confirmation of his step-mother's story.
He had entertained serious doubts of its being true, thinking it might
have been trumped up by Mrs. Brent to drive him from home, and interfere
with his succession to any part of Mr. Brent's property.

"Is my step-mother's story true, then?" he asked breathlessly. "She told
me I was not the son of Mr. Brent."

"Her story was true," said the veiled lady.

"Who is my real father, then?"

The lady did not immediately reply. She seemed to be peering into
distant space, as she said slowly:

"I see a man of middle size, dark-complexioned, leading a small child by
the hand. He pauses before a house--it looks like an inn. A lady comes
out from the inn. She is kindly of aspect. She takes the child by the
hand and leads him into the inn. Now I