woman.

"And have you nothing to cross the poor woman's hand with, fair
mistress?" returned the beggar. "She brought you fair fortune once;
how know you but she can bring you more?"

And Cicely recognised the person who had haunted her at Sheffield,
Tideswell, and Buxton, and whom she had heard pronounced to be no
woman at all.

"I need no fortune of your bringing," she said proudly, and trying to
get nearer the rest of the party, heartily wishing she was on, not
off, her little rough pony.

"My young lady is proud," said her tormentor, fixing on her the
little pale eyes she so much disliked. "She is not one of the
maidens who would thank one who can make or mar her life, and cast
spells that can help her to a princely husband or leave her to a
prison."

"Let go," said Cicely, as she saw a retaining hand laid on her pony's
bridle; "I will not be beset thus."

"And this is your gratitude to her who helped you to lie in a queen's
bosom; ay, and who could aid you to rise higher or fall lower?"

"I owe nothing to you," said Cicely, too angry to think of prudence.
"Let me go!"

There was a laugh, and not a woman's laugh. "You owe nothing, quoth