LITMIR.BIZ

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unmoved by their senile excitement, dealt the cards with the air of a sphinx.

      Madame meantime retired to her throne, and saw that the servants arranged the tray properly. She had a gigantic chair, which was jokingly called her throne, and here she received strangers in quite a majestic way. It was a sort of Lady Blessington reception on a small scale, as Mr. Harmer assured her, and, as he had been to Gore House in his youth, he knew what he was talking about. Knowing his courtly manners, and being greedy of compliments, Mrs. Jersey always tried to make him say that she resembled Lady Blessington. But this Mr. Harmer refused to do. Not that Mrs. Jersey was bad-looking. She had a fresh-colored face, bright black eyes, and plenty of white hair like spun silk. Her figure was stout, but she yet retained a certain comeliness which showed that she must have been a handsome woman in her youth. Her manners were motherly, but she showed a stern face toward Margery, and did not treat the girl so kindly as she might have done. As a rule, she had great self-command, but sometimes gave way to paroxysms of passion, which were really terrifying. But Margery alone had been witness of these, and Mrs. Jersey passed for a dear, gentle old lady.

      "Mr. Harmer is to be married," announced Mrs. Taine, leaving the circle round the card-table; "how extraordinary!"

      "So extraordinary that it can't possibly be true," said Mr. Harmer, dryly; "unless Madame will accept me," he added, bowing.

      "I should recommend Miss Bull," replied Madame very sweetly, but with a venomous note in her voice. She might as well have thought to rouse the dead, for Miss Bull paid not the slightest attention. In many ways the self-composed old maid was a match for Madame.

      At this moment Train entered, and after him came a tall young man, fair-haired and stalwart. He was handsome, but seemed to be ill at ease, and pulled his yellow mustache nervously as Train led him to the throne.

      "This is my friend," said Leonard, presenting him. "He just managed to get here, for the fog is so thick-"

      Here he was interrupted. "Madame!" cried Mrs. Taine, "what is the matter? Mr. Harmer, the water-wine-quick."

      There was need of it. Mrs. Jersey had fallen back on the throne with a white face and twitching lips. She appeared as though about to faint, but restraining herself with a powerful effort she waved her hand to intimate that she needed nothing. At the same time her eyes were fastened, not so much on the face of the stranger as on a piece of yellow holly he wore in his coat. "I am perfectly well," said Mrs. Jersey. "This is only one of my turns. I am glad to see you, Mr. – "

      "Brendon," said the stranger, who seemed astonished at this reception.

      "George Brendan," interpolated Train, who was alive with curiosity; "have you seen him before, Madame?"

      Mrs. Jersey laughed artificially. "Certainly not," she replied calmly, "and yours is not a face I should forget, Mr. – Brendon."

      She uttered the name with a certain amount of hesitation as though she was not sure it was the right one. George nodded.

      "My name is Brendan," he said rather unnecessarily, and Mrs. Jersey nodded in her most gracious manner.

      "I bid you welcome sir; any friend of Mr. Train's is also my friend. If there is anything to amuse you here?" She waved her hand. "We are simple people. Fortune-telling-a little music and the company of my guests. Mrs. Taine, Mr. Harmer!" She introduced them, but every now and then her eyes were on the yellow holly. Brendan remarked it.

      "You are noticing my flower, Mrs. Jersey," he said. "It is rather rare."

      "Most extraordinary," replied Mrs. Jersey, coolly. "I have seen holly with red berries before, but this yellow-"

      "There was a great bush of it in my father's garden," said Mr. Harmer, "but I have not seen any for years."

      "Perhaps you would like it, Mrs. Jersey," said Brendan, taking it from his coat.

      She hastily waved her hand. "No! no! I am too old for flowers. Keep it, Mr. Brendan. It suits better with your youth," she looked at his face keenly. "I have seen a face like yours before."

      Brendan laughed. "I am of a commonplace type, I fear," he said.

      "No; not so very common. Fair hair and dark eyes do not usually go together. Perhaps I have met your father?"

      "Perhaps," replied George, phlegmatically.

      "Or your mother," persisted Mrs. Jersey.

      "I dare say!" Then he turned the conversation. "What a delightful old house you have here!"

      Mrs. Jersey bit her lip on finding her inquiries thus baffled, but taking her cue expanded on the subject of the house. "It was a fashionable mansion in the time of the Georges," she said. "Some of the ceilings are wonderfully painted, and there are all kinds of queer rooms and cupboards and corners in it. And so quiet. I dare say," she went on, "this room was filled with beaux and belles in powder and patches. What a sight, Mr. Brendon-what a sight! Will you have some negus? Port-wine negus, Mr. Brendan."

      She was evidently talking at random, and offered him a glass of negus with a trembling hand. Brendan; evidently more and more astonished at her manner, drank off the wine. He made few remarks, being a man who spoke little in general company. Train had long ago gone to hear Miss Bull tell fortunes and, from the laughter, it was evident that his future was being prophesied.

      "No! no!" cried Train, "I shall never marry. A literary man should keep himself away from the fascinations of female society."

      "Do you agree with that, Mr. Brendan?" asked Mrs. Jersey, curiously.

      He shook his head and laughed. "I am not a hermit, Mrs. Jersey."

      "Then Miss Bull must prophesy about your marriage. Come!"

      At first Brendon was unwilling to go, but after some persuasion he submitted to be led to the table. Miss Bull was quite willing to do what was asked of her, and spread out the cards. Brendon waited beside Mrs. Jersey with a most indifferent air. She was far more anxious to hear the fortune than he was.

      "You are in trouble," announced Miss Bull in a sepulchral tone, "and the trouble will grow worse. But in the end all will be well. She will aid you to get free and will bestow her hand on you."

      "She?" asked Brendon, looking puzzled.

      Miss Bull did not raise her eyes. "The lady you are thinking of."

      Brendon was rather taken aback, but seeing Mrs. Jersey's curious look he crushed down his emotion. "At my age we are always thinking of ladies," he said, laughing.

      Train touched his arm. "It is-" he began, but Brendon frowned, and Leonard was quick enough to take the hint. Miss Bull went on telling the fortune. There were the usual dark and fair people, the widow, the journey, the money, and all the rest of the general events and happenings which are usually foretold. But there was always trouble, trouble, and again trouble. "But you will come out right in the end," said Miss Bull. "Keep a brave heart."

      "I am sure Mr. Brendon will do that," said Madame, graciously.

      While George bowed to the compliment, Miss Bull again shuffled the cards and fastened her keen black eyes on Madame. "Will you have your fortune told?" she asked coldly.

      "Oh, certainly!" said Mrs. Jersey in a most gushing manner; "anything to amuse. But my fortune has been told so often, and has never come true-never," and she sighed in an effective manner.

      Miss Bull continued her mystic counting. She told Madame a lot of things about the house which were known to most present. Mrs. Jersey laughed and sneered. Suddenly Miss Bull turned up a black card, "You will meet with a violent death," she said, and every one shuddered.

      CHAPTER II

      BRENDON'S STORY

      If Miss Bull wished to make Madame uncomfortable she certainly succeeded. From being voluble, Mrs. Jersey became silent, the fresh color died out of her face, and her lips moved nervously. Twice did she make an effort to overcome her emotion, but each time failed. Afterward she took a seat by the fire, and stared into the flames with an anxious look, as though she saw therein a fulfillment of the dismal prophecy. Her depression communicated itself to the rest of the company, and shortly before ten the friends took their departure.

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