‘And shall I tell you your fortune, my sweet young lady?’ exclaimed the gipsy, addressing Alice Lee. ‘Give me your poor thin hand, and though you cross mine with the littlest bit you have, you shall have your fortune as truly told as though you gave me gold.’ ‘My daughter does not require her fortune told,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee, jumping up with an air of mingled consternation and excitement, and planting herself between the gipsy and Alice. ‘I think we have had about enough of her for one watch,’ exclaimed Mr. Harris, in his sourest voice. ‘Suppose you go forward now.’ ‘Let me tell you your fortune, my pretty gentleman,’ exclaimed the gipsy; ‘you are an officer of the ship, and I will tell you your fortune for nothing.’ ‘Get along forward to your quarters,’ said Mr. Harris. ‘When I want lies told about me I’ll get ’em from somebody who’ll have sense enough to fit my tiptop wishes. What can ye tell me? That after this voyage I’m going to marry a German princess and be voted ten thousand a year by the British House of Commons? You’d want sixpence to tell me that lie, and there’s never a man for’ards that wouldn’t spin me fifty better yarns about my prospects for a single tot of grog. So away with you to your quarters,’ and he made as though he would drive her; whereupon, dropping curtsies to me, to Mrs. Webber, and to one or two others, the gipsy walked forward with a face rendered extraordinary by the wild grin on her lips and the scowl upon her brow like a visible shadow there, sharpening and brightening the fiery glancings of her eyes. The crowds of emigrants on the two ladders melted away, the mob of passengers broke up, but Mrs. Webber remained. Mrs. Webber, as I have said, remained; but for some moments neither she nor Mrs. Lee nor her daughter spoke. Their eyes were bent upon my face, and they waited, hoping no doubt that when I aroused myself from the reverie into which I had sunk I would exhibit some sign of returning memory. I held my head down, and kept my gaze fixed upon the deck, and, rightly guessing that I would not be the first to speak, Mrs. Webber said: ‘Tell me now, has the gipsy woman helped you at all?’ I looked at her, and after a pause shook my head and answered, ‘She has not helped me in the least.’ ‘What could have put the idea of your being married into the creature’s head?’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee. ‘It is a strange idea,’ said Alice, looking at me earnestly; ‘but I suppose those gipsy people understand the need of saying strange things. They cannot be too dark and mysterious and startling to please the sort of folks who cross their hands.’ ‘But why should not Miss C---- be married?’ said Mrs. Webber. ‘I hope she is not--but I am _sure_ she is not!’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee.