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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 76 pages of information about The Tale of Chloe.
to that.  When not by her side, he was ever marching with sharp strides, hurrying through rooms and down alleys and groves until he had discovered and attached himself to her skirts.  And, curiously, the object of his jealousy was the devoted Alonzo!  Mr. Beamish laughed when he heard of it.  The lady’s excitement and giddy mien, however, accused Poltermore of a stage of success requiring to be combated immediately.  There was mention of Duchess Susan’s mighty wish to pay a visit to the popular fortune-teller of the hut on the heath, and Mr. Beamish put his veto on the expedition.  She had obeyed him by abstaining from play of late, so he fully expected, that his interdict would be obeyed; and besides the fortune-teller was a rogue of a sham astrologer known to have foretold to certain tender ladies things they were only too desirous to imagine predestined by an extraordinary indication of the course of planets through the zodiac, thus causing them to sin by the example of celestial conjunctions—­a piece of wanton impiety.  The beau took high ground in his objections to the adventure.  Nevertheless, Duchess Susan did go.  She drove to the heath at an early hour of the morning, attended by Chloe, Colonel Poltermore, and Caseldy.  They subsequently breakfasted at an inn where gipsy repasts were occasionally served to the fashion, and they were back at the wells as soon as the world was abroad.  Their surprise then was prodigious when Mr. Beamish, accosting them full in assembly, inquired whether they were satisfied with the report of their fortunes, and yet more when he positively proved himself acquainted with the fortunes which had been recounted to each of them in privacy.

’You, Colonel Poltermore, are to be in luck’s way up to the tenth milestone,—­where your chariot will overset and you will be lamed for life.’

‘Not quite so bad,’ said the Colonel cheerfully, he having been informed of much better.

’And you, Count Caseldy, are to have it all your own way with good luck, after committing a deed of slaughter, with the solitary penalty of undergoing a visit every night from the corpse.’

‘Ghost,’ Caseldy smilingly corrected him.

‘And Chloe would not have her fortune told, because she knew it!’ Mr. Beamish cast a paternal glance at her.  ‘And you, madam,’ he bent his brows on the duchess, ’received the communication that “All for Love” will sink you as it raised you, put you down as it took you up, furnish the feast to the raven gentleman which belongs of right to the golden eagle?’

‘Nothing of the sort!  And I don’t believe in any of their stories,’ cried the duchess, with a burning face.

‘You deny it, madam?’

’I do.  There was never a word of a raven or an eagle, that I’ll swear, now.’

‘You deny that there was ever a word of “All for Love”?  Speak, madam.’

‘Their conjuror’s rigmarole!’ she murmured, huffing.  ’As if I listened to their nonsense!’

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