"You are the daughter of the Ry of Rys," she said almost shyly, yet
proudly.

"I'm a girl with a debt to pay and can never pay it," Fleda answered,
putting her arms impulsively around the woman's neck and kissing her.
Then she took the brooch from the woman's hand, and pinned it at her
throat.

"Think of Fleda of the Druses sometimes," she said, and she laid a hand
upon the woman's breast. "Lady love--lady love," said the blunt woman
with the pockmarked face, "you've had the worst fright to-night that
you'll ever have." She caught Fleda's hand and peered into it. "Yes,
it's happiness for you now, and on and on," she added exultingly, and
with the fortune-teller's air. "You've passed the danger place, and
there'll be wealth and a man who's been in danger, too; and there's
children, beautiful children--I see them."

In confusion, Fleda snatched her hand away. "Good-bye, you fool-woman,"
she said impatiently, yet gently, too. "You talk such sense and such
nonsense. Good-bye," she added brusquely, but yet she smiled at the
woman as she turned away.

A moment later she was on her way back to Manitou, but she did not get to
her father's house before the break of day; and in the doorway she met
Madame Bulteel, whose pale, drawn face proclaimed a sleepless night.

"Tell me what has happened? Tell me what has happened?" she asked in
distress.