lay before me (pointing
plainly to my journey to-morrow!); thirdly and lastly, a sum of money
(probably the groom's wages!) waiting to find its way into my pockets.
Having told my fortune in these encouraging terms, my aunt declined to
carry the experiment any further. "Eh, lad! it's a clean tempting o'
Proavidence to ask mair o' the cairds than the cairds have tauld us noo.
Gae yer ways to-morrow to the great hoose. A dairk woman will meet ye at
the gate; and she'll have a hand in getting ye the groom's place, wi' a'
the gratifications and pairquisites appertaining to the same. And, mebbe,
when yer poaket's full o' money, ye'll no' be forgetting yer aunt Chance,
maintaining her ain unblemished widowhood--wi' Proavidence assisting--on
thratty punds a year!"

I promised to remember my aunt Chance (who had the defect, by the way, of
being a terribly greedy person after money) on the next happy occasion
when my poor empty pockets were to be filled at last. This done, I looked
at my mother. She had agreed to take her sister for umpire between us, and
her sister had given it in my favor. She raised no more objections.
Silently, she got on her feet, and kissed me, and sighed bitterly--and so
left the room. My aunt Chance shook her head. "I doubt, Francie, yer puir
mither has but a heathen notion of the vairtue of the cairds!"

By daylight the next morning I set forth on my journey. I looked back at
the cottage as I opened the garden gate. At one window was my mother, with
her handkerchief to her eyes. At the other stood my aunt Chance, holding
up the Queen of Spades by way of encouraging me at starting. I waved my
hands to both of them in token of farewell, and stepped out briskly into
the road. It was then the last day of February. Be pleased to remember, in
connection with this, that the first of March was the day, and two o'clock
in the morning the hour of my birth.

V

Now you know how I came to leave home. The next thing to tell is, what
happened on the journey.

I reached the great house in reasonably good time considering the
distance. At the very first trial of it, the prophecy of the cards turned
out to be wrong. The person who met me at the lodge gate was not a dark
woman--in fact, not a woman at all--but a boy. He directed me on the way
to the servants' offices; and there again the cards were all wrong. I
encountered, not one woman, but three--and not one of the three was dark.
I have stated that I am not su