The antique prophets prophesied successfully;
they practised with some ease that art since lost but partly rediscovered by M.Maeterlinck, who proves to us that the future already exists, simultaneously with the present.Well, if his proofs be true, then at this very moment when William thought menacingly of Freddie Banks, the bright air of a happy June evening--an evening ordinarily reckoned ten years, nine months and twenty-one days in advance of this present sorrowful evening--the bright air of that happy June evening, so far in the future, was actually already trembling to a wedding-march played upon a church organ; and this selfsame Freddie, with a white flower in his buttonhole, and in every detail accoutred as a wedding usher, was an usher for this very William who now (as we ordinarily count time) threatened his person.
But for more miracles:
As William turned again to resume his meditations upon the steps, his incredulous eyes fell upon a performance amazingly beyond fantasy, and without parallel as a means to make scorn of him.Not ten feet from the porch--and in the white moonlight that made brilliant the path to the gate--Miss Mary Randolph Kirsted was walking.She was walking with insulting pomposity in her most pronounced semicircular manner.
``YOU GET OUT O' HERE!'' she said, in a voice as deep and hoarse as she could make it.``
YOU GET OUT O' HERE!''
Her intention was as plain as the moon.She was presenting in her own person a sketch of William, by this means expressing her opinion of him and avenging Jane.
``YOU GET OUT O' HERE!'' she croaked.
The shocking audacity took William's breath.