“Ha! ha! ha!--three silver crowns for a child’s life,” and, dropping her stick and holding out her skinny hands like the claws of some obscene bird, she began slowly to shuffle over the floor toward Peter, who stood rooted to the spot quaking in mortal fear. Nearer and nearer the old hag drew toward him, scraping her bare shrivelled feet over the floor. Peter sank on his knees and crossed himself. “God’s blood,” he said, “I will give you what you ask.” “Then give me twenty crowns,” she said, and waving her arms over the fire the flames turned blue and shot up as though to lick her hands. She then opened a small pouch at her girdle and taking a pinch from it threw it on the fire and a thick cloud of white smoke ascended and filled the room with a pungent odour and then circled round the room in fantastic shapes. “In the smoke, in the clouds, I see the future writ,” she said; “I see three children and their fates are intertwined. Ah, the first passeth, the second passeth, the third remaineth. I see a great treasure. I see trouble. I see joy and a great darkness.” Then turning to Peter she said: “Keep your crowns this time; I can do nothing; the child must go,” and she laughed a low cruel laugh,--“and your fate,” she said, turning to Aline with a diabolic grin, “is like unto hers; but your path is through the fire; yet there is joy and prosperity after strange days for your little friend up at the Hall.” She laughed again, a blood curdling fiendish chuckle, and grasping her staff she hobbled to the door and was gone so swiftly that they could hardly believe their eyes. Poor little Joan had fallen back senseless and it was some time before Aline could bring her round. Was the old harridan deliberately trying to frighten the child to death or could she really in some way foretell the future? The effect in any case was extraordinary and Aline had to pull herself together before she felt equal to the walk home. “What does she mean by my path is through the fire?” she asked Audry, when she met her in the courtyard. “Don’t think about it, don’t talk about it. Aline, you terrify me.” “I do hope she has not done Joan any serious harm anyway,” said Aline. “But come, we must get ready for supper.” Late in the evening as the family was seated in the great hall and the servants had retired, just as the children were going to bed, Richard Mowbray came in from going round the house as his custom was to see if everything was all right. He seemed to be in a very irritable mood and Mistress Mowbray asked him what was the matter. “Matter, Eleanor,” he said, “you know very well I am worrying about that cup. It’s the third thing that has disappeared this month and I seem to be no nearer finding out than we were before. I am fairly certain too that money has gone the same way. Beshrew me but I would give a goodly sum to find the knave.”