When he was gone Mary retired to her room. She did not appear at lunch,
but when afternoon tea was served on the lawn under the great weeping
willow, she came to join her guest. She was looking quite recovered from
her illness of the evening before. After some casual remarks, she said
to Gerald: 'Of course it was very silly about last night, but I could
not help feeling frightened. Indeed I would feel so still if I let
myself think of it. But, after all these people may only imagine things,
and I have got a test that can hardly fail to show that the prediction
is false--if indeed it be false,' she added sadly.

'What is your plan?' asked Gerald.

'I shall go myself to the gipsy camp, and have my fortune told by the
Queen.'

'Capital. May I go with you?'

'Oh, no! That would spoil it. She might know you and guess at me, and
suit her utterance accordingly. I shall go alone this afternoon.'

When the afternoon was gone Mary Considine took her way to the gipsy
encampment. Gerald went with her as far as the near edge of the common,
and returned alone.

Half-an-hour had hardly elapsed when Mary entered the drawing-room,
where he lay on a sofa reading. She was ghastly pale and was in a state
of extreme excitement. Hardly had she passed over the threshold when she
collapsed and sank moaning on the carpet. Gerald rushed to aid her, but
by a great effort she controlled herself and motioned him to be silent.
He waited, and his ready attention to her wish seemed to be her best