"I see here," said the gypsy, fumbling at the cards mysteriously, as if she could pierce quite through them with her sharp eyes, "I see a present for you: it's worth a power of money. I see a journey for you: it's across the waters. Here is a great nobleman; and O, how rich! He rolls in gold! He'll set great store by you, miss, and when you grow up you'll marry him, and you'll roll in gold, too." Isa smiled; and it is worthy of notice that she did not wonder at all at this future husband, though, according to her promise to the Ruby Seal Society, she could no more think of marrying than a veiled nun. "Such a lady as you'll be. You know of girls now that are pretty _thin_ with you. You wish yourself as rich and grand. But never mind. The day'll come when they'll be glad of a smile from you." The wicked woman continued this harangue for some time, painting in gorgeous colors the splendor which was to shine upon the happy Isa one of these days; while Isa sat listening to the romance in a tumult of delight. "What girls were those who felt themselves better? That must mean Grace Clifford, if anybody. She would come humbly to Isa Harrington, begging for a smile. Cassy Hallock would then have sunk into a nobody. O, how exquisite! Grace was cool and indifferent now--was she? Ah, well! the tables were about to be turned, and then maybe somebody else would know how to be cool and indifferent too." "O, Isa," laughed Grace, "think of the lovely dresses you'll wear! Please give me one, Isa. I hope you'll not forget your old friends." The gypsy scowled, but was keen to take observations. "I reckon I'll know who are my real friends better than some people do," replied Isa, meaningly. "I'll have so many friends that I just hope I'll not have to pick out the meanest of the whole to go with; I just hope I'll not be such a stupid as that, and then feel cross when anybody says she isn't perfect." Grace smiled, and so did the other girls. It was plain that Isa was so dazzled as to come very near fancying herself a great lady already. The glances which passed between the girls did not escape the sharp eyes of the gypsy. "Ah, ha! I see how it is. Somebody jealous! I'll soon study it out." Next came Diademia's turn, and she chose to have her fortune read by the zigzag lines on the palm of her hand. The woman declared that these lines were curved in just the right way on the little brown hand of Diademia, who was therefore sure to live in peace and plenty, and to receive a large legacy in five years. So it was with all. The gypsy fairly buried them under heaps of gold and precious stones, till it came to poor Grace Clifford. She bent her black brows, and looked upon this last candidate with a frown, pausing some time before she spoke. Grace did not understand this ominous scowl, but looked into the woman's face with a bright smile of anticipation. "I'd like my fortune told by astrology, please, madam. That's the stars--isn't it?"