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Narrative and Miscellaneous Papers by Thomas De Quincey
page 18 of 482 (03%)
sights in futurity--some near, some far off--as willingly I would
_not_ see. For you, young and charming lady, looking like that
angel which you are, no destiny can be equal to your deserts. Yet
sometimes, true it is, God sees not as man sees; and he ordains, after
his unfathomable counsels, to the heavenly-minded a portion in heaven,
and to the children whom he loves a rest and a haven not built with
hands. Something that I have seen dimly warns me to look no farther.
Yet, if you desire it, I will do my office, and I will read for you
with truth the lines of fate as they are written upon your hands.'
Agnes was a little startled, or even shocked, by this solemn address;
but, in a minute or so, a mixed feeling--one half of which was
curiosity, and the other half a light-hearted mockery of her own
mysterious awe in the presence of what she had been taught to view as
either fraud or insanity--prompted her playfully to insist upon the
fullest application of the Hungarian's art to her own case; nay, she
would have the hands of our little Francis read and interpreted as well
as her own, and she desired to hear the full professional judgment
delivered without suppression or softening of its harshest awards. She
laughed whilst she said all this; but she also trembled a little. The
Hungarian first took the hand of our young child, and perused it with a
long and steady scrutiny. She said nothing, but sighed heavily as she
resigned it. She then took the hand of Agnes--looked bewildered and
aghast--then gazed piteously from Agnes to her child--and at last,
bursting into tears, began to move steadily out of the room. I followed
her hastily, and remonstrated upon this conduct, by pointing her
attention to the obvious truth--that these mysterious suppressions and
insinuations, which left all shadowy and indistinct, were far more
alarming than the most definite denunciations. Her answer yet rings in
my ear:--'Why should I make myself odious to you and to your innocent
wife? Messenger of evil I am, and have been to many; but evil I will
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