chanted the fresh and delicious voice of a young girl walking along the sands of the seashore in the summer sunshine at Cape1 May.
"Cross my palm with silver, and I'll tell your fortune, bonnie maid," said a cracked, discordant2 voice.
The singer paused abruptly3, and looked at the owner of the voice—a lean, decrepit4 old hag, who extended her withered5 hand imploringly6.
"Nay7, now, good soul," answered she, with a merry laugh, "fortune will come to me anyway, even if I keep my silver piece."
"Aye—aye, it will," said the old crone, wagging her head like a bird of evil omen8; "it aye comes to faces as bonny as your own. But it's I that can tell you whether it be good or ill fortune."
"Here, then," said the girl, still laughing, and putting a silver piece into the trembling old hand; "be cheerful, now, and tell me a brave fortune for my money."
The old sibyl did not appear to relish9 the light and jesting tone of the other, and stood for a moment gazing at her in grave and portentous10 silence.
What a contrast the two presented as they stood looking at each other!
The girl was beautiful, with all the delicate freshness and slimness of eighteen. She was a dazzling blonde, with sea-blue eyes, and hair like spun11 gold falling beneath her jaunty12 sailor hat in long, loose curls to her graceful13 waist. She was fair as a lily, with a flush like the heart of a sea-shell on her round, dimpled cheeks. Her brow was fair and broad, and fringed with soft, childish rings of sunny hair. Her nose was small and straight; her mouth was curved like Cupid's bow, its short, exquisite14 upper lip lending a touch of archness to the patrician15 mold of her[Pg 2] features. The small, delicately shaped hands and feet were in keeping with the rare beauty of her face and form. She was simply clad in a jaunty sailor costume of dark blue serge trimmed with white braid and pearl buttons, and carried a volume of poems in her gloved hand.
As contrasted with this peerless beauty and youthful grace the old sibyl appeared hideous16 as a fiend beside an angel.
She was diminutive17 in stature18, and bent19 nearly double with the weight of years. Her scanty20, streaming white hair was in odd contrast with the dark, parchment-like skin and jet-black eyes that sparkled with a keen and unnatural21 brightness. A wicked, malevolent22 expression was the prevailing23 cast of her wrinkled features, and her cheeks and lips having fallen in upon her toothless gums, converted her grim smile into a most Satanic grin. The dreadful old beldam was attired24 in a melange25 of ancient and faded finery, consisting of a frayed26 and dirty quilted satin petticoat and an overdress of rich brocade, whose original brilliant oriental hues27 were almost obliterated28 by time and ill-usage. She gathered these faded relics29 about her with a certain air of pride as she said to the young girl:
"Sit ye down upon the stone there, and let me look at your palm."
She was obeyed with a demure30 smile by the listener, who drew off her glove and presented the loveliest hand in the world for inspection—a lily-white hand, small, and dimpled, and tapering31, with rosy32 palm and tips—a perfect hand that might have been enclosed in a glass case and looked at only as a "thing of beauty."
The sibyl took that dainty bit of flesh and blood into her brown, wrinkled claws, and scanned it intently.
"You are well-born," she said, slowly.
"You can tell that much by the shape of my nose, I suppose," laughed the girl, mischievously33.
The old hag glanced at the elegant, aristocratic little member in question and frowned.
"I can tell by your hand," said she, shortly: "Not but that it is written on your features also—for you are very beautiful."
"Others have told me so before," said the girl, with her musical, light-hearted laugh.
"Peace, will-'o-the-wisp!" said the old woman, sternly. "Do not pride yourself upon that fatal gift! You are lovely as an angel, but your beauty will be your bane."
"But beauty wins love," cried the listener, artlessly, while a rosy blush stained her fair brow and cheeks.
"Aye, aye, it wins love," was the crusty answer. "Your life will have enough of love, be sure. But beauty wins hate, too. The love that is lavished34 on you will be shadowed and darkened by the hate your fair face will inspire. Do not think you will be happy because you are beautiful. Years of wretchedness lie before you!"
"Oh! no," said the girl, with an involuntary shiver.
"It is true," said the sibyl, peering into the hand that she held. "If you could read this little pink palm as I do, you would go[Pg 3] wild with the horror of it. The line of life is crossed with sorrows. Sorrow and shame lie darkly over your future."
"Not shame," said the young girl, cresting35 her small head with a queenly gesture of pride. "Sorrow, perhaps; but never shame!"
"It is written," answered the old woman, sharply. "Do you think to alter the decrees of fate with your idle words, proud girl? No, no; there will be a stain on the whiteness of your life that your tears can never wash out. Love and hate will brand it there. You will be a young man's bride, but an old man's darling."
She paused, and a faint smile dimpled the young girl's cheek. Apparently36 the latter prediction did not seem to overwhelm her as the witch expected.
"I have been an old man's darling all my life," she said gently. "I assure you it is very pleasant."
"Girl, I meant not the tie of consanguinity," cried the sibyl, sharply. "You do not understand. Ah! you will know soon enough; for I tell you, girl, a cloud is gathering37 over your head; gathering swiftly to burst over you in a tempest of fury. Fly! Fly! Go and cast yourself into those raging Atlantic waves yonder, rather than breast the torrent38 of sorrow about to break upon your life!"
Her voice had risen almost to a pitch of fury with the last words, and her eyes flashed as with the light of inspiration. She cast a strange look upon the trembling girl, and, dropping her hand abruptly, turned away, hobbling out of sight with a rapidity that scarcely seemed possible in one so stricken with age.
The young girl, who a moment ago had seemed so blithe39 and debonair40, sat still a few moments where the sibyl had left her, looking curiously41 into the pink palm from which such dire42 prophecies had been read. She looked like one dazed, and a slight pallor had momentarily usurped43 the rose tint44 on her cheek.
"How earnestly the old creature talked," she murmured, musingly45, "as if that horrid46 jargon47 of hers could be true. What is there in my hand but a few lines that mean nothing? She saw that I did not believe in her art, and predicted those dreadful things merely to punish me for my doubt. Heigho! I have never had a sorrow in my life and never expect to have one."
She drew on her glove, and taking up her volume of poems, pursued her way along the shore, looking a little more thoughtful than when she had tripped that way a little while before singing in the lightness of her heart.
After walking a short distance she paused, and selecting a shady seat, sat down where she could watch the blue waves of the ocean rolling in, crested48 with snowy foam49, and the wild flight of the sea-birds wheeling in the sunny air, and darting50 down now and then for some object of prey51 their keen eyes discerned in the water. After watching these objects for awhile she grew weary, and, opening her book, began to read fitfully, turning the pages at random52, as if only half her heart was in the task.
She had been reading perhaps half an hour when the light dip of oars53 in the water saluted54 her ears. She looked up quickly and[Pg 4] saw a fairy little skiff with one occupant coming around a curve of the shore toward her. The skiff was very dainty, with trimly cushioned seats. It was painted in shining blue and white, and bore around about the prow55 in letters of blue and gold, the fanciful name, "Bonnibel." The single occupant, a young man singularly handsome and resolute-looking, called out as he neared the shore:
"I have borrowed your skiff very unceremoniously, Miss Vere; but since I have been detected in the theft, may I not persuade you to leave your lonely eyrie there, and accompany me in my little pleasure-trip this evening?"
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1
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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7
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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8
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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9
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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10
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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15
patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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melange
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| n.混合物；大杂烩 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cresting
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| n.顶饰v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的现在分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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43
usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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44
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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45
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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47
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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49
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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50
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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51
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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52
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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53
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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