Act 1 — Scene V.

The Gipsy encampment.—Enter Nelly.

Nelly. I have been plotting my revenge on Lady Etheridge; and I have a scheme which may succeed. I must, however, be guided by circumstances; yet, by the means of this senseless fool, I hope to make much mischief. O, here he comes.

Enter Peter.

Good day, again. I have been waiting for you. The stars are in the ascendant.

Peter. I thought they were up in the sky.

Nelly. Exactly. Now let me read the lines on your face. The finest gentleman in the land would give half his fortune for those lines.

Peter. Then pray, what is my fortune, good woman?

Nelly. One that requires gold, with which to cross my hand; and then it would be too cheap.

Peter. Gold! Won't a shilling do?

Nelly. I wish you good-day, Sir; I thought you were a gentleman.

Peter. Well, so I am; but gentlemen are not always very flush of guineas. However, I have one here, and it shall go for my fortune. [Gives money.

Nelly. The planet, Georgium Sidum, says, that you are the son of the steward, and your name is Bargrove.

Peter. Now, that is surprising!

Nelly. But Georgium Sidum tells not the truth.

Peter. Do the stars ever lie?

Nelly. O, the new ones do. They have not been long in the business. But the old ones never fail.

Peter. Astonishing! and only supposed to be Bargrove's son. Go on, good woman, go on. What do the old planets say?

Nelly. Nay, I must stop a little. That is all I can see just now; but more will be revealed to me by-and-bye. What does Artemidorus say in his ninety-ninth chapter, written in double Chaldean before letters were invented?

Peter. I don't know. What does he say?

Nelly. That you must gain great truths by little ones. So you must tell me all you know about yourself, and I shall be able to find out more.

Peter. I was educated with Mr Edward Etheridge; and, when our education was completed, he went into the army and I was sent home to my father's—that is—to Mr Bargrove's.

Nelly. I understand.

Peter. This Mr Bargrove proposed that I should accompany him every day to obtain a knowledge of agriculture, and employ my evenings in keeping the accounts, that I might be able to succeed him in his office of steward.

Nelly. Exactly—but the stars tell me that you did not like it.

Peter. Couldn't bear it. Why, my boots, which I am so particular in having well polished, were so loaded with clay the very first time, that I could hardly lift my legs, and I stumbled into a ditch filled with stinging nettles; so I gave it up, and the old gentleman constantly swears that I am no son of his.

Nelly. Did not I, the priestess of the stars, tell you so?

Peter. But if I am no son of his, the question is, "Whose son am I?"

Nelly. A gentleman's son, no doubt. But I shall discover more when I consult the stars anon. You must return.

Peter. That I surely will. Consult the old stars, if you please.

Nelly. I always do, sir; no dependence upon the others. In fact, we've quarrelled. I am hardly on speaking terms with them.

Peter. Speaking terms with the stars! How intimate you must be!

Nelly. You'll have to cross my hand again. Golden truths will not come out without gold.

Peter. What! gold again?

Nelly. Yes, another guinea. One for telling you who you are not, and another for telling you who you are. Don't you see?

Peter. One for telling me who I am not. Yes, that's told; I am not my father's son. They say it's a wise man who knows his own father.

Nelly. Wisely said.

Peter. And another for telling me who I am. Well, I think that is as well worth a guinea as the other.

Nelly. Better, I should imagine.

Peter. Yes, better. Well, good-bye, good woman. I'll be sure to be here.

Nelly. Fail not, or you'll repent it. (Exit Peter.) The gudgeon takes the bait kindly. Peter, Peter, you had always an immense swallow. When Sally Stone nursed him, she was forced to feed the little cormorant with a tablespoon. As far as I can see, notwithstanding his partnership education with the young Squire, I think the grown babe should be fed with spoon-meat still. But what dainty lasses are these that come this way? Lucy and Miss Etheridge—how fortunate!

Enter Agnes and Lucy.

Lucy. There is the woman; so, if you are inclined to hear her nonsense, you must wait the Sibyl's pleasure.

Agnes. I hope she will not keep us long, or my brother will arrive before we return. (Nelly advances.)

Nelly. Save you, fair lady! which of you will first look into futurity?

Lucy. This young lady. (Pointing to Agnes.)

Nelly. Then you must retire out of hearing.

Agnes. No, no; I have no secrets from her. She must stay.

Nelly. That cannot be, my art will be useless, and I decline the task.

Lucy. Yield to her mummery, it can make no difference.

Agnes. Well, then, Lucy, don't go far away.

Lucy. I'll be out of hearing, but not out of sight.

[Lucy retires, and amuses herself in collecting flowers.

Nelly. Your name is Agnes.

Agnes. (laughing). I know that; and I am the daughter of Sir Gilbert of the Hall. Come, I'll help you, good woman.

Nelly. I did not say the last.

Agnes. What do you mean?

Nelly. I only said that your name was Agnes.

Agnes. Well, and I told you more than you knew.

Nelly. The stars reveal not what you assert.

Agnes. Well, then, I do; so I know more than the stars.

Nelly. You are wrong. You know not so much. You are not what you think you are.

Agnes. In the name of wonder, what do you mean?

Nelly. I have said it. Let me see your hand. Your fate is a dark one! Poor young lady! You will be crossed in everything.

Agnes. (laughing faintly). Love included, I suppose. Shall I not marry the man of my affections?

Nelly. If he is more generous than men usually are.

Agnes. I cannot understand you.

Nelly. There is a dark cloud hanging over your fate. The storm will soon rage. Poor young lady!

Agnes. You almost frighten me. Speak more intelligibly.

Nelly. I have said enough. Agnes Bargrove, fare thee well!

Agnes. (astonished). Agnes Bargrove! what can she mean? Good woman, will you not tell me more?

Nelly. Go home, you will soon hear more from others. (Aside.) The wound is given; let it fester. (Nelly retires.)

Agnes. Lucy, Lucy! (Lucy advances.)

Lucy. Dear Agnes, how confused you are! What can be the matter?

Agnes. (much flurried). I can hardly tell. The woman was so strange. I was a little surprised—that's all. (Recovering herself.) Now, Lucy, it's your turn. (Nelly comes forward.) There, good woman, is your money. (Nelly shakes her head, and refuses it.) How very strange! Come, Lucy, let her tell your fortune, and then we'll go home.

Lucy. Nay, Agnes, I have no curiosity.

Agnes. I insist upon it, Lucy. I will not be the only foolish one. I shall retire until you call me.

Lucy. Well, then, as you please. I know my fortune but too well. (Sighs.) [Agnes retires.

Nelly. (looking Lucy earnestly in the face for a time). You are perhaps come here for amusement. In olden times there were many false prophets; but still, some of them were true; so, in these days, there are many who pretend to our art, but really few who do possess it. Do you take this for a mocking matter?

Lucy. Why, really, good woman, I will not promise to believe all you may say, but I shall be glad to listen to it.

Nelly. I thought as much. But were I to tell you what is known only to yourself, would you then credit my asserted powers?

Lucy. I should certainly feel more inclined.

Nelly. There are marks upon your person known but to yourself.

Lucy. 'Tis very possible.

Nelly. Can you recollect them?

Lucy. (smiling incredulously). Can you describe them?

Nelly. To prove my power before I read your destiny, I will. You have a large mole beneath your right shoulder. (Lucy starts.) You have a scar on your instep by falling over a sickle in your infancy. Nay, more. (Nelly whispers her.)

Lucy. Merciful heavens!

Nelly. Are you satisfied?

Lucy. I'm a little frightened.

Nelly. So much to prove that I am no impostor. Now, let me see your hand. (Lucy holds out her hand trembling.) You have lost your fortune, and your rank in society—but you will soon regain them. The cloud is dispersing from before the sun of your happiness. Sweet girl, I wish thee joy!

Lucy. What mean you?

Nelly. Others will tell you soon. There are two in the secret, Nelly Armstrong and Martha Bargrove.

Lucy. My mother!

Nelly. No, not your mother. I said, Martha Bargrove. (Lets go her hand.) Lucy Etheridge, fare thee well. [Exit Nelly.

Lucy. O God! Agnes, Agnes! (Agnes runs up to her.)

Agnes. My dear Lucy, has she frightened you too?

Lucy. O yes! indeed she has. Let us go home, Miss Agnes, I am so unhappy.

Agnes. So am I, Lucy. I wish we had never seen the odious woman.

[Exeunt ambo, arm in arm, crying.