Narrative and Miscellaneous Papers | Page 7

And thus the obligation which I felt to
silence and reserve, strengthened the morbid impression I had received;
whilst the remarkable incident I have adverted to served powerfully to
rivet the superstitious chain which was continually gathering round me.
The incident was this--and before I repeat it, let me pledge my word of
honor, that I report to you the bare facts of the case, without
exaggeration, and in the simplicity of truth:--There was at that time
resident in the great city, which is the scene of my narrative, a woman,
from some part of Hungary, who pretended to the gift of looking into
futurity. She had made herself known advantageously in several of the
greatest cities of Europe, under the designation of the Hungarian
Prophetess; and very extraordinary instances were cited amongst the
highest circles of her success in the art which she professed. So ample
were the pecuniary tributes which she levied upon the hopes and the
fears, or the simple curiosity of the aristocracy, that she was thus able
to display not unfrequently a disinterestedness and a generosity, which
seemed native to her disposition, amongst the humbler classes of her
applicants; for she rejected no addresses that were made to her,
provided only they were not expressed in levity or scorn, but with
sincerity, and in a spirit of confiding respect. It happened, on one
occasion, when a nursery-servant of ours was waiting in her anteroom
for the purpose of taking her turn in consulting the prophetess
professionally, that she had witnessed a scene of consternation and
unaffected maternal grief in this Hungarian lady upon the sudden
seizure of her son, a child of four or five years old, by a spasmodic
inflammation of the throat (since called croup) peculiar to children, and

in those days not very well understood by medical men. The poor
Hungarian, who had lived chiefly in warm, or at least not damp,
climates, and had never so much as heard of this complaint, was almost
wild with alarm at the rapid increase of the symptoms which attend the
paroxysms, and especially of that loud and distressing sound which
marks the impeded respiration. Great, therefore, was her joy and
gratitude on finding from our servant that she had herself been in
attendance more than once upon cases of the same nature, but very
much more violent,--and that, consequently, she was well qualified to
suggest and to superintend all the measures of instant necessity, such as
the hot-bath, the peculiar medicines, &c., which are almost sure of
success when applied in an early stage. Staying to give her assistance
until a considerable improvement had taken place in the child, our
servant then hurried home to her mistress. Agnes, it may be imagined,
dispatched her back with such further and more precise directions as in
a very short time availed to re-establish the child in convalescence.
These practical services, and the messages of maternal sympathy
repeatedly conveyed from Agnes, had completely won the heart of the
grateful Hungarian, and she announced her intention of calling with her
little boy, to make her personal acknowledgments for the kindness
which had been shown to her. She did so, and we were as much
impressed by the sultana-like style of her Oriental beauty, as she, on
her part, was touched and captivated by the youthful loveliness of my
angelic wife. After sitting for above an hour, during which time she
talked with a simplicity and good feeling that struck us as remarkable
in a person professing an art usually connected with so much of
conscious fraud, she rose to take her leave. I must mention that she had
previously had our little boy sitting on her knee, and had at intervals
thrown a hasty glance upon the palms of his hands. On parting, Agnes,
with her usual frankness, held out her hand. The Hungarian took it with
an air of sad solemnity, pressed it fervently, and said:--'Lady, it is my
part in this life to look behind the curtain of fate; and oftentimes I see
such sights in futurity--some near, some far off--as willingly I would
not see. For you, young and charming lady, looking like that angel
which you are, no destiny can be equal to your deserts. Yet sometimes,
true it is, God sees not as man sees; and he ordains, after his
unfathomable counsels, to the heavenly-minded a portion in heaven,

and to the children whom he loves a rest and a haven not built with
hands. Something that I have seen dimly warns me to look no farther.
Yet, if you desire it, I will do my office, and I will read for you with
truth the lines of fate as they are written upon your hands.' Agnes was a
little startled, or even shocked, by