Gipsies - Page 2

I believe the Oxonian amuses himself very much by furnishing them with
hints in private, and bewildering all the weak brains in the house with
their wonderful revelations. The general certainly was very much
astonished by the communications made to him the other evening by the
gipsy girl: he kept a wary silence towards us on the subject, and
affected to treat it lightly; but I have noticed that he has since
redoubled his attentions to Lady Lillycraft and her dogs.

I have seen also Phoebe Wilkins, the housekeeper's pretty and love-sick
niece, holding a long conference with one of these old sibyls behind a
large tree in the avenue, and often looking round to see that she was
not observed. I make no doubt that she was endeavouring to get some
favourable augury about the result of her love quarrel with young
Ready-Money, as oracles have always been more consulted on love affairs
than upon anything else. I fear, however, that in this instance the
response was not so favourable as usual, for I perceived poor Phoebe
returning pensively towards the house; her head hanging down, her hat in
her hand, and the riband trailing along the ground.

At another time, as I turned a corner of a terrace, at the bottom of the
garden, just by a clump of trees, and a large stone urn, I came upon a
bevy of the young girls of the family, attended by this same Phoebe
Wilkins. I was at a loss to comprehend the meaning of their blushing and
giggling, and their apparent agitation, until I saw the red cloak of a
gipsy vanishing among the shrubbery. A few moments after, I caught sight
of Master Simon and the Oxonian stealing along one of the walks of the
garden, chuckling and laughing at their successful waggery; having
evidently put the gipsy up to the thing, and instructed her what to say.

After all, there is something strangely pleasing in these tamperings
with the future, even where we are convinced of the fallacy of the
prediction. It is singular how willingly the mind will half deceive
itself, and with what a degree of awe we will listen even to these
babblers about futurity. For my part, I cannot feel angry with these
poor vagabonds that seek to deceive us into bright hopes and
expectations. I have always been something of a castle-builder, and have
found my liveliest pleasures to arise from the illusions which fancy has
cast over commonplace realities. As I get on in life, I find it more
difficult to deceive myself in this delightful manner; and I should be
thankful to any prophet, however false, that would conjure the clouds
which hang over futurity into palaces, and all its doubtful regions into
fairyland.

The squire, who, as I have observed, has a private goodwill towards
gipsies, has suffered considerable