As it happened, for one reason or another, Cynthia had never consulted Madame Noveri, but the occult note appealed to her romantic side, and she needed only slight evidence to convince her that Madame was, as Amelia contended, "a wonder." The evidence was speedily forthcoming. Closeted with the fortune-teller, Cynthia heard an analysis of her own character and tastes, which owed its accuracy to skillful pumping of Amelia, but which impressed the listener profoundly. By the time Madame Noveri had thrown in a few facts concerning the Weston family history--also gathered from the unsuspecting Amelia--Cynthia was ready to accept as inspired truth any revelations that might be made to her. Then Madame, shrewd in knowledge of schoolgirl logic, felt that it was safe to turn to prophecy. "A crisis is coming in your life," she said solemnly. "It is written in your hand. Let me see what the cards tell." She shuffled the cards and bent over them, while Cynthia, thrilled by the thought of an approaching crisis, watched eagerly. "Yes; it is here, too. I knew the hand could not lie. A dark man is coming into your life." [Illustration: "'A dark man is coming into your life'"] Cynthia gasped ecstatically. She admired dark men. "It is all clear in the cards. There is the fate card, and there is the dark man." "I do hope he hasn't a moustache," murmured the listener. "Can you see his name?" "No." "And you can't tell where I'll met him, or how, or when?" "The cards don't say, but it will be soon, and there's the money card, so he'll be rich. You'll both fall in love the moment you meet. He's your affinity." Cynthia went out of the room in a sentimental trance. At last her dream was coming true. Not a tinge of skepticism lurked in her mind. Hadn't Madame told her all about her innermost feelings, and about her sister Molly having been ill with diphtheria, and about her father having made a big fortune out of pine lands, and about her having refused little Billy Bennington, whose father was a millionaire and had a huge house on Fifth Avenue? No; there was no room for doubt. She laughed off the questions of the girls. What she had learned was too sacred to be told to anyone except Amelia and Laura May, and possibly Blanche White. After the lights were out that night she told them, and their sympathy and excitement were all she could have desired. "Goodness, but I just envy you, Cynthia Weston," said Amelia in a stage whisper, which was a concession to the faculty's unreasonable prejudice against visiting after "lights-out" bell. "It's the most exciting thing I ever heard. He may pop out at you anywhere. She said it would be soon, didn't she?" "Very soon." There was a soulful pride in Cynthia's manner, a tremulous thrill in her voice.