CHAPTER III.

THE FORTUNE-TELLER.

"WELL, to be sure!" And in well-feigned astonishment, Mrs. Stanley threw down the cards and looked at Lizzie, who sat close by, watching the performance with great interest.

"What is it—what is the matter?" she asked.

"What is the matter?" repeated the woman. "Why, you've got such a lucky hand, that I ought to have half-a-crown for telling it; and if you can't give it me now, you must remember me when you're a rich lady riding in your carriage in silks and satins."

"Oh! Yes, I will," said Lizzie with a smile of supreme satisfaction, taking up her gloves and preparing to put them on again.

"Wait a minute, my dear. I'll go through the cards once more, just to be certain there's no mistake about it, and maybe I shall be able to tell which way the riches are coming—whether from mother and father, uncle or aunt."

But Lizzie shook her head at this suggestion.

And the woman, watching her, presently said, "No, it ain't through either of these ways it'll come; and it won't be just yet either, for I can see you'll travel a bit and see the world—a good deal more of it than this little town can teach you."

While she was saying this the woman was moving the cards about, and pretending to read her predictions from those she turned up; but she kept her eyes on Lizzie, watching her face more than the cards. After this mummery had been gone through for several minutes, she suddenly threw down the cards with an angry expletive.

"If I wasn't afraid it 'ud turn out like that," she exclaimed, thumping the table with her clenched fist.

"Why, what is it?" said Lizzie with whitening lips, "Am I to be a servant after all?"

"Well, it won't last long. I see by the cards you are in service now, though nobody would think it to look at you. People say fortunetellers are deceivers, and they may be sometimes; but it's the stars are at fault. And I'll tell you how, my dear. A wise woman looks at a hand, and she sees fortune writ there plain as the nose on your face, then she turns up the cards and sees fortune there again, and of course she thinks it safe enough, and she tells the party, for it's taken her some time to find out this much, and she don't stop to look no further, 'cos there's no time to spare to learn any more, and so the thing that ought to be done ain't known nothing about—ain't made itself seen, 'cos it wants looking for, and so a fortune's lost. Ah! Many a fortune's lost that way, my dear."

"But have you found out all about it for me?" asked Lizzie quickly; for it was getting dark now, and she had a long way to go home.

"Yes, my dear. I've got to the bottom of the matter at last, though it seemed as though the stars didn't want to disclose all their secrets about you;" and she went on talking about the "stars" as though they were intimate friends of hers, who could not resist her blandishments when she was determined to wring their secrets from them.

"But you have not told me what I am to do," said Lizzie, rising from her seat at last, and drawing her gloves over her fortunate hands.

"No, my dear. Because it's rather a disappointing thing I've got to tell you; and I'm soft-hearted enough to feel sorry when I see a girl disappointed, and maybe lose the fortune that's waiting for her, because she can't make up her mind to stretch out her hand and lay hold of it."

"Oh! I'm not like that," said Lizzie. "I'd get it, I know, if I had the chance!"

"Well, my dear, you certainly have got the chance. The fortune's there sure enough, but I can see it'll never drop into your lap. It wants seeking. You must go and meet it, for it will never come to you in this miserable town, nor while you are in service; I can see that plain enough."

"But what am I to do?" said Lizzie in a tone of perplexity.

"Well, I ain't quite clear about that yet," said the woman. "I must study the cards and the stars a bit deeper; such things as that ain't found out in a hurry."

"Oh! But I can't stop any longer," said Lizzie in a tone of alarm; for as she spoke a church clock struck nine, and she ought to have been home by this time.

"No, no, you can't stay to-night, I know that, my dear; but still I should be sorry for you to lose this fortune when you are willing to get it."

While she was speaking the woman took down her bonnet and shawl from the peg and put them on. "I'll walk back with you," she said; "for it's hardly safe for a pretty girl like you to be so late. And as we go along, we'll think of a plan to meet again; for I take a great interest in young people, 'specially them as are the favourites of the stars, as you are."

"I expect I shall catch it when I get home," said Lizzie, looking round the lighted fair as they stepped out beside the wax-work show.

"Never mind, my dear, it won't be for long," said Mrs. Stanley; "the stars speak plain enough on that. You've but a short time to be in service, that's plainly writ—over six months I should say, but under a year."

"Then it won't be long," said Lizzie in a relieved tone; "for I've been out ten months."

"Ah! I thought it was about that time Jupiter indicated, and I should say it'll end in a few days now."

"The sooner the better," said the girl; "for I hate service."

"Of course you do, my dear; the fortune that hangs over you won't let you settle to it as other girls can. And now let us see about our meeting again. I suppose you won't be able to get out any more this week?"

"Not till Sunday," replied Lizzie with a sigh.

The woman reiterated it. "That's awkward," she said; "for I shall be miles away from here by that time."

"But—but you won't go away till you've told me what I've to do to get this fortune?' she said.

"Well, my dear, I'll help you to get it, if I can," said the woman in a tone of benevolent pity; "but, you see, I'm only the servant of the stars like the rest of mankind, and I must move on at their bidding, and I know I've got to go the last thing on Saturday night, or first thing on Sunday morning. I tell you what, though," she said, as though she had just thought of something, "I might come and see you one night about dusk. Is there a side gate at your house?"

"Yes," said Lizzie eagerly; "and my mistress will be out to-morrow night, and I shall be alone. So if you come about eight o'clock, you might tell me what I ought to do, and I'll pay you well for your trouble when I get my fortune."

"Of course you will, my dear. You'll be worth your weight in gold by and by, and able to help old Mother Stanley and a good many people besides."

And she talked of the splendid silk dresses she would wear, and the number of servants and carriages she would keep, and the grand things she would do for all her friends by and by, until the silly girl's head was completely turned; which was exactly what the artful woman designed, for this would enable her to carry out the plan she had formed when she first saw Lizzie, and the discontent on her face told her she was dissatisfied with her lot in life, and ready to incur any risks to change it.

Mrs. Stanley went to within a few yards of the house where Lizzie lived, carefully noted its appearance, and then turned back, laughing to herself over the girl's folly, and how easily she had been taken in.

She was careful to be near the house about eight o'clock the next night, and, as she expected, she soon saw Lizzie peeping out of the side gate looking for her. She held up her finger warningly as she drew near, and looked up and down the street to make sure no one was watching her, and that no policeman was in sight, and having satisfied herself that nobody was about, she darted inside the gate and carefully bolted it after her, and then followed Lizzie to the comfortable little kitchen at the side.

"Well, my dear, I've had a deal of trouble to find out all you wanted to know," she said, seating herself in the chair Lizzie had placed ready for her. "Are we all alone—is that woman who calls herself your mistress safe out of the way?"

"Yes, she's gone out to supper," said Lizzie, "and will not be home till ten o'clock, and master has gone with her."

"Master?" repeated the woman in a scornful tone. "Didn't I tell you, you'd soon be worth your weight in gold, and able to buy these half-and-half people up over and over again. Take that horrid cap off, my dear. I do hate to see a lady who is on the edge of coming into a fortune in a thing like that," and Mrs. Stanley loosened her own bonnet-strings and unpinned her shawl by way of making herself comfortable, while Lizzie took off the obnoxious cap and put it out of sight.

"My dear, you've got lovely hair. You'll set off the jewels and satins you'll wear by and by," said the woman, apparently lost in admiration of the girl as she seated herself at the other side of the table, and prepared to listen to the further unfoldment of her "fortune."

"Now you want to know what secrets the stars have disclosed since I saw you last," went on Mrs. Stanley. "Well, my dear, it's all summed up in one word—travel. You've got to travel—to go right away from this dull out of the way misfortuned place; for I can see plain enough that the malefic stars rule over this town, and the sooner you're out of it the better."

"But how am I to go?" asked Lizzie in some anxiety. "My mother and father and all my friends live here, and I don't know where else to go."

The woman crossed her arms and looked at Lizzie. "Ain't there nobody as knows you anywhere—not in London or some other big city?" she said.

The girl shook her head dolefully. "I haven't got a friend in the world outside of this town," she said.

"Well, now, that is unfortunate. And worth your weight in gold you'll be by and by," said her visitor, as if in great perplexity.

"Could—could you help me to get away, do you think?" asked the girl with some hesitation in her tone.

It was just what the woman had been waiting for, but she would not appear eager about it. "Well, suppose we talk it over a bit," she said in apparent reluctance. "Are you quite sure you ain't got no friends outside this town?"

"Yes, quite sure; and I haven't a penny in the world unless my mistress pays me my month's wages to-morrow," said Lizzie with tears in her eyes.

"Well, perhaps she'll pay you; and then you can go by yourself and seek your fortune," said Mrs. Stanley.

But the girl shook her head. "I shouldn't know where to look," she said. "I don't know anything about the stars; but if I could come with you, I should be sure not to miss it."

"That's true enough," said the woman meditatively; "but do you think your friends would agree to the plan?"

"I shouldn't ask them," said Lizzie, smiling at the absurdity of such a suggestion. "My mother thinks there is nothing better than service for a girl like me, and so I'm sure she wouldn't let me look for anything else, if she could help it. No! If I am to come with you, I should take care not to let anybody else know about it, or hear where I am until I get my fortune. Then, of course, I shall want to come back and help them all. I shall set my father up in a good business, and let my brother Jack learn to be an engineer."

"Of course you will help your friends, my dear, when you get your fortune; and it will be a pity to lose it for the want of going to seek it."

"I won't lose it," said Lizzie confidently, "if you will only let me come with you."

"Very well; as it seems the only way we can do it, perhaps you'd better. You know what sort of a place you'll have to travel in. But I shall have to coax my husband over to let you join us."

"Do you think he will object?" asked Lizzie anxiously.

"Well, if you get your wages to-morrow it can be managed easily enough I think; for you can pay that to him for your travelling expenses. How much did you say you would have?"

"Twelve shillings," answered Lizzie.

"Only twelve shillings! It ain't much, my dear to pay us for the risk and trouble, and—"

"Oh! But I will pay you for that by and by, Mrs. Stanley," interrupted Lizzie. "I will give you the twelve shillings as a little present."

The woman smiled to think how completely she had duped the silly girl, and how bitterly she would repent her folly by and by. But she took care not to betray any of these thoughts now. She only said, "Ah! When you are worth your weight in gold, my dear, you will be a generous friend, I know."

"Yes, that I will," said Lizzie, feeling sure that it would be easy to do this when she had plenty of money to do as she liked with.

"Now, then, we must talk about how you are to get away," said practical Mrs. Stanley, who was beginning to grow tired of the comedy. "How many clothes have you got?"

"Shall I have to bring my clothes with me?" said the girl, a little disappointed at this prospect.

"Yes, you must bring your clothes to wear until you can get better."

"I thought I should so soon get the silk dresses you spoke about, I need not trouble myself with these common things," and Lizzie looked down disdainfully at the neat print dress she wore.

Mrs. Stanley, however, regarded the dress with different feelings. "Those clothes are too good to leave behind," she said. "You might give them to me, and it would help make up for the cost of your journey."

"Very well, you shall have them then. But how am I to carry my box if nobody is to know I am going away?" she suddenly asked. "Am I to go with you to-night?"

"No, no, that'll never do. You must meet me about a mile out of the town by six o'clock on Sunday morning," said Mrs. Stanley quickly.

"But how am I to carry the box?"

"You must leave the box behind. Only bring all your clothes except your caps, you won't want them any more," said the woman.

"It'll be a big bundle to carry," said Lizzie, mentally passing in review the new underlines and cotton frocks, to say nothing of the hats and jackets that were included in that one word "clothes."

"I might take some of them with me to-night, if you like," said Mrs. Stanley in an indifferent tone.

"Oh! If you would not mind doing that, I could get away easier on Sunday morning," said Lizzie. "I will go up and pack up my clean clothes, and I can put on my best frock to come in."

"No, no, that won't do," said the woman; who thought that a girl like Lizzie, dressed in her best frock so early in the morning, would be sure to attract attention. Besides, the best frock and hat might possibly be recognized by someone she might meet, and so, to make sure that this risk was not incurred, she suggested that the best frock and hat, and as many underclothes as she could put up, should be taken away that night.

"I'll bring you a bonnet and shawl to wear on Sunday morning. One that will screen your face so that nobody shall see who you are, as they might do if you wore one of your own hats," said Mrs. Stanley.

"I wish I could go with you to carry the bundle," said Lizzie, as she lighted the candle to go to her bed-room, which was at the top of the house. "I won't be long," she said as she left the kitchen.

"Don't hurry, my dear; mind you bring all the things," said her visitor.

And while she was speaking, she untied her shoes, and before Lizzie was up the first flight of stairs she had taken a long wax taper from her pocket, lighted it at the kitchen gas, slipped off her shoes, and then crept into the dining and drawing rooms. She looked all round these to see if there was anything worth stealing among the ornaments, but only found a small silver fruit knife, which she instantly transferred to her pocket.

But she examined the window shutters at the back, and the fastenings of the street door, with a good deal of care, and then went back to the kitchen, put on her shoes again, and looked over the locks and bolts of the back door.

She was seated in the chair just where she had been left when Lizzie came down again with the bundle in her hand.

"I must be going now," she said rising from her seat. "I will bring the bonnet and shawl to-morrow night about nine o'clock, and throw it over the gate; and you must get away from here soon after five on Sunday morning, and walk to the first milestone on the London road. We shall be along there about six, and then we can hide you out of sight. But mind, if a policeman should be near you, just walk on, and don't even look at me or the caravans till I speak first."

Lizzie gave the required promise, and so they parted.