Your plans are in danger and you
also." Was the psychic and fortune-telling instinct of the Romany alive
in her and working involuntarily, doing that faithfully which her people
did so faithlessly? The darkness which comes from intense feeling had
gathered underneath her eyes, and gave them a look of pensiveness not in
keeping with the glow of her perfect health, the velvet of her cheek.
"Would you mind telling me where you got your information?" he asked
presently.
"My father heard here and there, and I, also, and some I got from old
Madame Thibadeau, who is a friend of mine. I talk with her more than with
any one else in Manitou. First she taught me how to crochet, but she
teaches me many other things, too."
"I know the old girl by sight. She is a character. She would know a lot,
that woman."
He paused, seemed about to speak, hesitated, then after a moment hastily
said: "A minute ago you spoke of having the instinct of your race, or
something like that. What is your race? Is it Irish, or--do you mind my
asking? Your English is perfect, but there is something--something--"
She turned away her head, a flush spreading over her face. She was
unprepared for the question. No one had ever asked it directly of her
since they had come to Manitou.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104