The gipsies had camped on Miss Willoughby’s land again this summer for the first time since Lelia’s father had driven them away with merciless hate, and been cursed for his brutality by the gipsy queen. They had been here several weeks now by Miss Willoughby’s gracious permission, and were busily plying their lazy occupations of horse-trading and fortune-telling. On either side of the meadow road their white tents gleamed in the moonlight and their horses frolicked in the pasture lot near the huge wagons that trundled their women folk and children from place to place. Some of these swarthy, picturesque people were gathered around a camp-fire at the side of the road, amusing themselves with games of cards and telling stories. Satan discovered new cause for alarm in the gipsy camp, and balked, refusing to budge any farther. Persistent urging, and even the spur, failed to overcome his stubbornness. Suddenly a woman started up from the group about the fire, saying, in her musical, Romany voice: “He’s just a little bit frightened at us folks, sir. Allow me to lead him safely past.” And to Laurie’s surprise the stubborn Satan yielded kindly to her firm hand and coaxing voice, and ambled quietly along until he had his back to the disturbing scene. “You can go on safely now, sir,” she said, pausing, with the gleam of the moonlight and firelight both reflected on her strong, dark face, middle-aged and still handsome, with a stately air that made him suspect she was the gipsy queen. “I thank you,” he said courteously, placing a generous gift of silver pieces in her hand. “Oh, sir, you are very kind! Let me tell your fortune in return!” cried the woman, seizing his hand despite his protest and peering with fixed eyes into the palm. “A fair fate to you, sir,” she muttered. “You will be married twice, but your first and second choice will differ from each other like daylight and darkness; both beautiful, both loving, but between them they will bring a tragedy into your life. Deep sorrow lies before you, but the clouds will pass. Remember Magdala’s words, sir, for they are true as truth. Good-night, and a successful journey to you, kind sir,” curtsying as she moved away. Laurie rode on, musing: “She evidently knows who I am and has made a wild guess at the rest. But in one thing she is right. Two women as different as daylight and darkness have brought a tragedy into my life. Will the clouds indeed pass as Magdala predicted?” He reached Lewisburg without further adventure, but it was long past midnight, and seeking the hotel, he retired to rest till morning. And in the painful absorption of his thoughts he could not sleep at all, but tossed restlessly till time to arise. It took him till mid-day to transact the sad business that had brought him there, making the arrangements for Miss Willoughby’s funeral the next day, and in the afternoon he rode back to The Crags, reaching there in the golden glow of the summer sunset.