As Sir Bale, each looking in the other's eyes, repeated in this sentence the words "kind," "kindly," "kindness," a smile lighted Feltram's face with at each word an intenser light; and Sir Bale grew sombre in its glare; and when he had done speaking, Feltram's face also on a sudden darkened. "I have found a fortune-teller in Cloostedd Wood. Look here." And he drew from his pocket a leathern purse, which he placed on the table in his hand; and Sir Bale heard the pleasant clink of coin in it. "A fortune-teller! You don't mean to say she gave you that?" said Sir Bale. Feltram smiled again, and nodded. "It _was_ the custom to give the fortuneteller a trifle. It is a great improvement making _her_ fee you," observed Sir Bale, with an approach to his old manner. "He put that in my hand with a message," said Feltram. "He? O, then it was a male fortune-teller!" "Gipsies go in gangs, men and women. _He_ might lend, though _she_ told fortunes," said Feltram. "It's the first time I ever heard of gipsies lending money;" and he eyed the purse with a whimsical smile. With his lean fingers still holding it, Feltram sat down at the table. His face contracted as if in cunning thought, and his chin sank upon his breast as he leaned back. "I think," continued Sir Bale, "ever since they were spoiled, the Egyptians have been a little shy of lending, and leave that branch of business to the Hebrews." "What would you give to know, now, the winner at Heckleston races?" said Feltram suddenly, raising his eyes. "Yes; that would be worth something," answered Sir Bale, looking at him with more interest than the incredulity he affected would quite warrant. "And this money I have power to lend you, to make your game." "Do you mean that really?" said Sir Bale, with a new energy in tone, manner, and features. "That's heavy; there are some guineas there," said Feltram with a dark smile, raising the purse in his hand a little, and letting it drop upon the table with a clang. "There is _something_ there, at all events," said Sir Bale. Feltram took the purse by the bottom, and poured out on the table a handsome pile of guineas. "And do you mean to say you got all that from a gipsy in Cloostedd Wood?" "A friend, who is--_myself_," answered Philip Feltram. "Yourself! Then it is yours--_you_ lend it?" said the Baronet, amazed; for there was no getting over the heap of guineas, and the wonder was pretty equal whence they had come. "Myself, and not myself," said Feltram oracularly; "as like as voice and echo, man and shadow."