'I dare say it looks so to you. To me, it is part of the Play. Will, the Play is nearly over. I knew all along that disaster was coming upon me. But the worst is over--the worst is over. I know that the worst is over. I can now foretell what is coming next.' She looked straight before her, her eyes luminous in the dark cell. 'I can see,' she said, 'a time of peace and calm. Well, Will, reality or not, that scene will be pleasant. I shall go out of this place very soon--But I know not when, and I cannot see myself at any time again upon the boards of Drury. I am certain that I shall never go back there. I cannot see myself in Soho Square either. I shall never go back there. I see fields and hills and woods'--she shuddered and with a gesture pushed the vision from her. 'Will--it is strange, all is strange: it is a beautiful country, but I know it not--I cannot understand it.' It was not the first time, as you have seen, that she showed this strange power of peering into the future. Whether this fair-haired and blue-eyed woman was really a child of the gipsies, or, as Lord Brockenhurst conjectured, a stolen child, she had the powers that we commonly find in gipsy women who are fortune-tellers all the world over. That she compelled all men to become her servants you have seen: that she could also compel women to follow and obey her was proved by what she did during that three or four weeks which she spent in the condemned cell: the same magic arts--yet she was no witch: and she could read the future--a gift which is marvellous in our eyes.