"No, dearie, I never set eyes on you. I only read what Fate has written on your hand. It's print to me, dearie." "I tell you I don't believe in palmistry." "You will some day, rye." "If I fall in love and marry before I leave Farbis, I may," he responded ironically; "but as that is not likely to happen, I am afraid your black art will not gain a disciple." Mother Jericho took no notice of this sceptical speech, but rapping the ashes out of her pipe, stowed it carefully away in the folds of her dress. "I must go now, dearie," she said, rising stiffly to her feet; "but when I see ye to-morrow the spell will be on you. Ay, ay, laugh as you please, but Joy comes up for you through the Gates of Dawn!" "What Gates of Dawn?" "You'll see to-morrow, rye! And at noon you will find a guest by your fire." "You!" "Not I, dearie. But some one who wishes you well. Good night, my brave rye. I put the spell on you." Here she waved her stick like a malignant fairy. "Go you at daybreak to the sea and meet your fate at the Gates of Dawn." After the delivery of this mystic speech, she vanished as by magic into the darkness of the night. Dan looked into the gloom, somewhat bewildered by her sudden departure, which smacked of the broomstick, then returned to his book with a shrug of his broad shoulders. But Borrow failed to charm his preoccupied brain, and after one or two unsuccessful attempts to fix his attention on the page, he desisted with an impatient exclamation. "That old lady is a trifle weak in the head, I fear," said he, yawning. "What does she mean by her 'joy coming up through the Gates of Dawn?' Does she take me for a new Tithonus on the watch for Aurora? Yet it is strange that she knows of my desire," he added reflectively; "I thought no one knew of that but myself. Ah, bah! Every young man wishes to love, to marry. Her necromancy is all guesswork." Thus contemptuously dismissing the subject, he smoked a final pipe and made his preparations for retiring to rest. The night was so fine that he could not bring himself to sleep in the stuffy caravan, and finally decided to take his rest in the open air. After a drink of whisky to keep out the dews, he wrapped himself in the fur rug, and lay comfortably by the fire. Peter curled himself into a ball, and kept one eye on his master, the other on Simon. The wind wuddered through the pine trees overhead, but in the deep of the dell all was still and warm. The red flames leaped skyward to the stars until the fire died to grey ashes, and, save sigh of wind and roar of sea, no sound was heard. Lying on his back, Dan, oblivious to all outward things, went to the land of dreams, and there met Joy coming up through the Gates of Dawn. Mother Jericho's spell was acting bravely. CHAPTER III. TITHONUS.