He had seated himself by this time in his
accustomed place, and got out his papers and
instruments, and with these he busied himself
for a while, muttering all sorts of incoherent
words from time to time, and writing down a
great many unintelligible and cabalistic signs
upon paper. He referred, too, to different
calendars, and other documents already written
out on parchment, and to some papers covered
with strange signs and drawings, figures of
animals, birds and fishes, extraordinary
combinations of circles one within another, mathematical
figures, and numbers without end. Over
these he pored for a long time, appearing to be
exceedingly puzzled and perplexed by his
studies. At last he pushed up his spectacles
upon his forehead, and, heaving a deep sigh,
which was a very unusual proceeding with him,
leaned back in his chair and fixed his eyes upon
his companion.

"I have never had such difficulty with
anything," he said, after a while, "as with the
attempt to read your future. Ever since you
gave me the first necessary particulars, I have
been trying to arrive at some certain conclusion,
and have been unable to do so. Are you sure
that the year, day, and hour of your birth were
given me accurately? The slightest mistake
would throw everything out."

"They were accurate," answered the lady.
"I can answer for them."

"It is so strange," continued Cornelius. "I
can go a certain distance. I have told you,
as you admit, particulars connected with your
girlhood and subsequent life up to this time—
particulars which I could only know by means
of my art."

"They were all correct," said the lady;
"though, I thought, somewhat vague."

"Vague!" repeated the astrologer. "What
would you have? 'De minimis non curat lex;'
and, in like manner, you would not have the
sublime science of astrology become a thing of
trivial detail. It condescends not to small
matters. It gives forth its hints in mystic
language a language intelligible only to the
adept."

"And, as I understand you," replied the
lady, "even the adept is now puzzled; and
my destiny is revealed in characters which
even the initiated cannot decipher! How is
that?"

"There were stormy influences at work,
madam, at the time of your birth," said the
philosopher, evading, for a time, the lady's
question; "and, as I have had the honour of
submitting to you, those influences were sure
to have power over your whole life."

"And how about 'its termination?" asked the
strange lady, abruptly, and with a certain
tremor in her voice.

"Of that, at present, I know nothing."

"'At present;' and when are you likely to
know more?"

"Whenever I am able to see more clearly
than I can do at present."

"And when is that likely to be?"

"That, madam, I cannot say," answered the
astrologer.

These words were followed by a silence of
some duration. The astrologer seemed to be
occupied in pondering over something that he
wished to say. He referred again to his papers;
and then he held his head in his hands, and
with closed eyes and a puckered brow seemed
to be engaged in straining that spiritual sight,
which, when we seek to use, we mechanically
suspend the action of our bodily eyes, as if the
mental sight and the corporeal could not be
exercised simultaneously.

"It seems," said the astrologer, speaking
slowly, in a low key, and without altering his
position or opening his eyes—"it seems as if I
had embarked on a journey, had pursued it a
certain distance a considerable distance, even
—as if the road, winding through obscure
valleys sometimes, and sometimes over rugged
bypaths and ill-defined ways, had reached at last a
place where it was no longer marked at all, and
beyond which I seek in vain to pursue it. I
have come to the edge of some steep declivity,
down which. I look in vain for the track which
I have lost, and all beyond is darkness. I have
had no such experience before. I have seen
things vaguely before. I have seen shapes and
forms of which I could make no certain thing,
and then beyond I have again seen clearly.
But now I can see nothing at all. I use all
the skill I know, and endeavour, with all the
resources I have at command, to throw some
light forward into this dark abyss. A barrier
seems to erect itself even now as I gaze
between me and the future. The stars throw no
light here — not even an uncertain one — and all
is darkness!"

Again there was silence. The astrologer's
eyes were closed no longer now, and he seemed
as one who had woke up from some trance.

"You own yourself defeated?" asked the
strange lady.

"For the time I do," answered Cornelius.
"It may be that I am not just now in good
health. It may be that my eyes are wearied
with straining into darkness; and that
hereafter my mental vision may become clearer.
At present, I can see nothing."

"Then, there is nothing that need detain me
longer?" asked the lady.

"Nothing — except that I have a favour to
ask of you," answered Cornelius. " I feel—
it may be a fancy — but I feel as if I could
engage in this work with more confidence if—
if—"

"If what?"

"If you would let me see your face."

The lady answered not a word, but raised
her veil, and, putting it back, stood before the
astrologer motionless as a statue.

Cornelius looked long and earnestly at her.
"Thank you," he said very gently, "that is
enough." And he took the lamp to light her
down the stairs. "If you could come again
very shortly," he said, "I might know more—
to-morrow, perhaps, or the day after."