The girl listened breathlessly, wondering at the accuracy of this harsh recapitulation of the events of her morning ride. But as the final words fell from the seer's lips she cried out in protest-"Oh, auntie. His fate? How? How? What do you mean? How do you know all this?"
Joan had risen to her feet and stood eyeing her aunt in wonder and amazement. The elder woman fondled her crystal in her thin hands. A look akin to joy suddenly leapt into her burning eyes. Her lips were parted so that they almost smiled.
"It is here, here. All here," she declared exultingly. "The mandates of Fate are voiced amongst the stars, and the moving hand delineates unerringly the enactments--here--here." She raised the crystal and gazed upon it with eyes alight with ecstasy. "It is for the eye to see, and for the mind to read. But the brain that comprehends must know no thought of human passions, no human emotions. There is nothing hidden in all the world from those who seek with the power of heart and brain."
Joan's amazement passed. It was replaced by something like horror and even terror as she listened. To her the words were dreadful, they spoke of the woman's straining brain, and her thoughts flew to the doctor's verdict. Was this the madness he had feared? Was this the final crash of a brain driven to breaking-point? The questions flew through her mind only to be swept aside by the recollection of what her aunt had told her of her morning ride. It was true--true. Every word of it. Where could the insanity lie? No--no. It could not be. But--but--such a power!
Her thoughts were cut short. Again her aunt was speaking. But now her voice had once more resumed its customary harshness. The fire had died out of her eyes. Again the dreaded crystal was lying in her lap, fondled by loving fingers. And something approaching a chuckle of malice was underlying the words which flowed so rapidly from her thin lips.
"Haven't you learned yet? Can't you read what the hand of Fate is trying to point out to your blinded eyes? Did not the man Cahusac ask you to marry him? Did not you refuse him? And did not he die of typhoid within two weeks of committing that foolishness? And Charlie Hemming. He dared to make love to you. What then? Didn't he make a fortune on the Cotton Exchange? Didn't he tell you that it was you who brought him his luck? Luck? Your luck is disaster--disaster disguised. What happened? Hemming plunged into an orgie of riotous living when you refused him. Didn't he squander his fortune, bolt to Mexico, and in twelve months didn't he get shot as a rebel and a renegade, and thus add himself to the list of the victims of your--so-called 'luck'? Luck! Oh, the madness, the blindness of it!"