When I was quite a lad, I remember an old Scotchwoman visited our house.

It is little I can recall to memory now concerning her, but I know that when she first set her eye upon me she said-- "Eh, Mrs.Blake, but yon bairn has the gift o' second sight." My mother laughed at the idea, whereupon the old woman began to correct herself.
"I'll no say he has the gift o' second sight properly," she said, "but he'll _feel_ in a minute what it'll tak soom fowk years to fin' out.

Eh, lad"-- turning to me--"if ye coom across some one as ye doesna like, hae as leetle to do wi' 'em as ye can." I am inclined to think there is truth in this judgment of the old Scotch lady.

I have found her words true in many cases, and I was sure in the case of Voltaire my feelings told me what actually existed.
There was one thing in my favour.

Evidently he did not think I guessed his wishes; nevertheless I felt sure that if I was to obtain the mastery over such a man, it would be little short of a miracle.
Dinner passed over without anything worthy of note, but as soon as it was over we hurried to the drawing-room.