cannot," she said, "good Father Brantome has told me it is
sinful. I must not."

Half in jest but all in earnest, Max begged her to try; and, after a
great deal of coaxing, she reluctantly consented to give a very small
exhibition of her powers. Covering her face with her hands, she remained
for the space of a minute as if in deep thought. Then, making a series
of graceful and fantastic passes in the air with her hands, as if
invoking a familiar spirit, she said in low, solemn tones:--

"You may now sit by me, Sir Max. My words must not be heard by any ears
save yours."

Max seated himself beside the girl.

"Give me your word that you will tell no one what I am about to do and
say," she said.

"I so promise," answered Max, beginning to feel that the situation was
almost uncanny.

"Now, place in my hand some jewel or valued article of which I may
speak," she said.

Excepting his sword and dagger, Max owned but one article of value--the
ring Mary of Burgundy had given him. He hesitatingly drew it from his
finger and placed it in the girl's hand. She examined it carefully,
and said:--

"Now, give me your hand, Sir Max." Her hand was not much larger than a
big snowflake in early spring, Max thought, and it was completely lost
to sight when his great fingers closed over it. The velvety softness of
the little hand sent a thrill through his veins, and the firm,
unyielding strength of his clasp was a new, delicious sensation to the
girl. Startled by it, she made a feeble effort to withdraw her hand; but
Max clasped it firmly, and she surrendered. After a short silence she
placed the ring to her forehead, closed her eyes, and drew her face so
near to Max that he felt her warm breath on his cheek. Max was learning
a new lesson in life--the greatest of all. She spoke in soft whispers,
slowly dropping her words one by one in sepulchral tones:--

"What--do--I see--surely I am wrong. No--I see clearly--a lady--a great
lady--a princess. She smiles upon a man. He is tall and young. His face
is fair; his hair falls in long, bright curls like yours. She gives him
this ring; she asks him to be her husband--no--surely a modest maiden
would not do that." She stopped suddenly, snatched her hand from Max,
returned the ring and cried, "No more, no more!"

She tossed her hands in the air, as if to drive off the spirits, and
without another word ran to the parlor laughing, and threw herself on
Uncle Castleman's knee. Max slowly mad