of his insanity, and the long, dreary years which might ensue when he
would lose all knowledge of her. She did not care to talk so much of
him now, but Miss Porter cared to have her, and caressingly winning
the girl's confidence, learned almost everything--learned that there
was an impediment to his marrying, and that Rosamond believed that
impediment to be _hereditary insanity_--learned that he was often
fitful and gloomy, treating his ward sometimes with coldness, and
again with the utmost tenderness. Of the interview in the library
Rosamond did not tell, but she told of everything else--of his
refusing to let her come to the Springs and then compelling her,
against her will, to go; and Marie Porter, holding the little hands in
hers, and listening to the story, read it all, and read it aright,
gloating over the anguish she knew it cost Ralph Browning to see that
beautiful girl each day and know he must not win her.

"But I pity _her_" she said, "for there is coming to her a terrible
awakening."

Then, for no other reason than a thirst for excitement, she longed to
see that awakening, and one day when they sat together alone, she took
Rosamond's hand in hers, and examining its scarcely legible lines,
said, half playfully, half seriously, "Rosamond, people have called me
a fortune-teller. I inherited the gift from my grandmother, and though
I do not pretend to much skill, I can surely read your destiny. You
_love_ Mr. Browning. I have known that all along. You think of him by
day--you dream of him by night, and no thought is half so sweet as the
thought of going home to him. But, Rosamond, you will not marry him.
There is an impediment, as you say, but not insanity. I cannot tell
you what it is, but I can see," and she bent nearer to the hand which
trembled in her own. "I can see that for you to marry him, or--mark