Page 30 of The Irish Gypsy
"By gum, you're sharp. You've been in theknife drawer again. I'd like to see the man born who could outsmartyou, Kitty. You're just like a tonic, lass." He beamed at her.
"You really have made a remarkable recovery,I can't get over it. It's as if there never was anything the matterwith you," marveled Kitty.
"Very likely wasn't a stroke in the firstplace," scoffed Jonathan. "Doctors like to make you think you'resicker than you are, then they can stick you with a big bill. Iwasn't born yesterday. There's not many as can put one over on me."He winked. "Like you, eh, Kitty?"
"Oh, you really were ill, Mr. O'Reilly. Youraura went the most ghastly shade of brown."
"My aura? What's that, lass?"
"Well, you know, it's the light thatsurrounds you. The color can tell all sorts of things about yourhealth and your character."
"That's just Gypsy hocus-pocus. Surely youdon't really believe in all that?"
Kitty said with a laugh, "Don't tell meyou’re not superstitious--you're always throwing salt over yourshoulder when you spill it, and you go around knocking onwood."
"You've caught me out," he said and smiled."Tell me about this aura."
"Well, while you were ill, it turned muddybrown, but now it's gone to a sort of pale orange shade, so you area lot better. When you are in full health and running the mills andordering everyone about, it glows a bright yellow. That shows youhave a lot of energy. When you lose your temper, the edge becomestinged with red."
"Me? Get angry? Never!" he protested. "Tellme: Does everyone have one of these auras?"
"Yes. Julia's is red and Barbara's is alovely shade of blue."
"What's yours?" he asked."
"I've been told it's a pale violet," shesaid, and thought silently,and Patrick's is a deep, vibrantpurple.She suggested, "Would you like me to read your palm foryou?"
He offered his hand, palm up, fingers curledupward.
"Right away I know you are careful withmoney. Your hand is cupped to keep what you already have. If youfling your hand open with the fingers spread, it means that moneyjust runs through your fingers. Do you see the difference? You havea very square hand. That means you are practical with a good dealof common sense. Your palm is longer than your fingers, which showsyou are a doer rather than a dreamer. You would have made a successout of any line of work you went into. Your thumb is very strongand thick at the bottom. That means you like to be the boss. Yourmound of Venus is very fleshy."
"Where's that?" he questioned.
"Here, this fat pad at the base of yourthumb. That means you love luxury. You overindulge in food andother things. The tips of your fingers are a little blunt, whichindicates that you are stubborn and would have your own way if itkilled you." She laughed.
"Enough of my character. What about myfortune?" he prompted.
"You've already made your fortune, Mr.O'Reilly. As to your future, all I can tell you is the usual Gypsyhocus-pocus. You will meet a dark, mysterious stranger. You aregoing on a long journey. You will be granted three wishes," shejoked.
There was only one wish he was interested in.Kitty had been on his mind a lot lately. He wanted to obey hislongings and give in to the physical impulse of fornicating withher, but he was fearful of getting a taste, then having the sweetswithdrawn, to leave him starving. She'd be off with the first youngblade who propositioned her. What did he have to bind her to him?Bugger it, I'll ask her to wed me,he decided.Mychildren will play hell when they find out,he thought, and hisface lit up with anticipation at the scenes they would create. Hedidn't want a life of furtive sex, hurried gropings in the dark andcreaking floorboards to alert the servants. No, by God, he wantedto be able to pull her onto his knees and fondle her in front ofeveryone if he so fancied. After all, how many years did he haveleft? He was going to throw his cap over the windmill. They'd sayhe was in his dotage, but let them! Meanwhile he'd be enjoying thatsilken little wench.
The next day he put up the mills for sale.Bugger it all, he would retire! At dinnertime he could containhimself no longer. "You have it within your power to make an oldman very happy, Kitty. Will you wed me, lass?"
She was taken completely off guard. The ideanever had entered her head. She knew he had come to depend on hercompany and he was able to be himself and relax and be comfortablein her presence.
"I....I don't know what to say," she saidhonestly.
"Say 'yes' lass. You won't be sorry," heurged.
"Well, I'd like to see my grandfather beforeI give you my answer. I'm not quite sixteen yet, Mr. O'Reilly," shetemporized.
"Mmm, that is a bit young, but I think yourgrandfather can be persuaded to give his consent. Why don't you niparound and see him tonight? Do you want me to come with you,love?"
"No, thank you, Mr. O'Reilly, I think I'dbetter go alone."
"Call me Johnny," he urged.
Kitty faltered. "I....I couldn't."
