smoked-out weed into a heap of fire-wood.

"Are we near her house?" he asked. "Yonder is the bridge."

"And yonder is the house," replied Ormiston, pointing to a large
ancient building - ancient even for those times - with three
stories, each projecting over the other. "See! while the houses
on either side are marked as pest-stricken, hers alone bears no
cross. So it is: those who cling to life are stricken with
death: and those who, like me, are desperate, even death shuns."

"Why, my dear Ormiston, you surely are not so far gone as that?
Upon my honor, I had no idea you were in such a bad way."

"I am nothing but a miserable wretch! and I wish to Heaven I was
in yonder dead-cart, with the rest of them - and she, too, if she
never intends to love me!"

Ormiston spoke with such fierce earnestness, that there was no
doubting his sincerity; and Sir Norman became profoundly shocked
- so much so, that he did not speak again until they were almost
at the door. Then he opened his lips to ask, in a subdued tone:

"She has predicted the future for you - what did she foretell?"

"Nothing good; no fear of there being anything in store for such
an unlucky dog as I am."

"Where did she learn this wonderful black art of hers?"