‘Is this all then, that the great Soul-reader can show me?’ exclaimed Mercia in a disappointed tone of voice; ‘I hoped to have seen the wonderful mind-reflecting mirror that all the world speaks of. Is there nothing at all in my future that is worthy of transmission to the plate? If nothing better, then show me my future husband;’ she demanded, while a roguish smile dimpled her face. ‘Show thee thy future husband!’ repeated Swami nervously, ‘I cannot, because I dare not,’ he added in evident excitement. ‘But I desire it,’ persisted Mercia, ‘I fain would learn if there be such an individual in store for me.’ ‘I will tell thee whom thou shalt not marry, if that will suit,’ returned Swami earnestly; with a view of evading the inquiry. ‘That is indeed a negative method of satisfying a lady’s curiosity,’ laughed Mercia gaily. ‘Well, then whom shall I _not_ marry?’ ‘Neither Felicitas, nor Geometrus,’ replied he emphatically. Mercia coloured violently upon hearing Geometrus’ name thus mentioned, then trying to regard it lightly, she observed—‘Who is it, show me his reflection?’ ‘Not to-night. Come again, dear lady, and the portrait shall be in readiness for thee.’ ‘Ah, Swami,’ returned Mercia sweetly; ‘I perceive that thou art only playing with me. Thou knowest full well, that neither love nor marriage is for me. If I win my case, I return to my post. My work is my bridegroom; I am bound to no other; for therein is centred my every thought—my whole life-work.’ ‘The observation of the heavenly bodies shall be thy life-work no longer; thou art called to do work even more glorious than the study of the great universe; for thou art destined to rule millions of human beings, whose happiness depends upon thy wisdom, whose well-being is assured by thy just administration. Princes shall pay thee homage: the great ones of the earth shall be proud of thy friendship. All nations shall vie with each other in showing thee honour; and thine own people shall love and adore thee.’ The Soul-reader uttered his prophecy as one in a dream. With his hands clasped together, and quivering with the violence of his emotion, he seemed insensible to his surroundings. His great dark eyes were filled with a wonderful light, whose luminous rays seemed to possess the power of reaching into futurity. Unconsciously to himself, the waves of soul-sympathy filled the air, and entering Mercia’s system set her heart beating wildly with an ecstatic pleasure, that was an entirely new experience. Trembling with delight she awaited the moment when the fever of his excitement should have subsided; and searched his countenance for the first sign, that she might question him further.