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The Fatal Marriage


“Your future is dark. I see much trouble for you. I see bloodshed, violence, and worst of all, murder! I––”

 

With a piercing cry, Inez Opher drew her hand from the clasp of the gipsy woman, who flung the silver at her feet, darted into an adjacent thicket of pines, and was lost to view. She had noticed the girl, had begged to tell her fortune, and this was the result. Pale, trembling in every limb and with staring eyes, the girl turned to her humble home, in the yard of which she was then standing. As she crossed the threshold, her mother a stern-looking woman, met her. She did not notice her daughter’s agitation, but exclaimed––

 

“Your uncle John Morton, will be here this evening. You must take care not to offend him, as he is very peculiar. I have not seen him for almost twenty years; but he has not forgiven my foolish marriage, I feel sure.”

 

Her daughter sank into the nearest seat, and her large gray eyes wandered wearily over the scanty furniture of the room.

 

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