would be warned! But you will not! you will not!" she continued,
wringing her hands in great trouble.

"You shall predict my fate and Miriam's," said Marian, smiling, as she
opened the gate, and came out leading the child. "And I know," she
continued, holding out her palm, "that it will be such a fair fate, as
to brighten up your spirits for sympathy with it."

"No! I will not look at your hand!" cried Fanny, turning away. Then,
suddenly changing her mood, she snatched Marian's palm, and gazed upon
it long and intently; gradually her features became disturbed--dark
shadows seemed to sweep, as a funereal train, across her face--her bosom
heaved--she dropped the maiden's hand.

"Why, Fanny, you have told me nothing! What do you see in my future?"
asked Marian.

The maniac looked up, and breaking, as she sometimes did, into
improvisation, chanted, in the most mournful of tones, these words:

"Darkly, deadly, lowers the shadow,
Quickly, thickly, comes the crowd--
From death's bosom creeps the adder,
Trailing slime upon the shroud!"

Marian grew pale, so much, at the moment, was she infected with the
words and manner of this sybil; but then, "Nonsense!" she thought, and,
with a smile, roused herself to shake off the chill that was creeping
upon her.