Romantic, Miss Clara may or may not have been; superstitious she certainly was not. For some reason of her own she had formed a not unflattering opinion of my intelligence—an opinion which, I fear, my reference to these dream-tableaux did not a little to shake. And when Miss Clara thought poorly of a person or of a thing, she said so with a directness which was somewhat disconcerting. Her comment on the words with which I closed my last chapter was:
"Mr. Rissler, don't be a fool!"
"I try not," I said lamely. "What's the particular folly of mine you have in mind at the present moment?"
"Why, this dream-tableau business, of course," she answered. "You're no fool—quite the contrary—in most respects; but I've no patience with this nonsense about dream men kneeling on your chest in a dream garden. If you've got anything on your chest, you should look after your digestion—not talk about your dreams. And that reminds me. I generally take a glass of hot milk and a biscuit before going to bed. If you are going to sit up out of doors all night in the garden, as you propose, you'll want something more substantial. Oblige me by ringing that bell. I suppose you smoke," she said, when I had made a substantial supper. "If so, you may. My brother's a great smoker, so you need have no scruples.
"What I like about you," she continued, when I had lit up in accordance with her permission, "is that you're a young man who can make up his mind. To tell me, within the first half-hour you'd ever seen me, that you wanted to marry my niece when you'd only seen her once before, was about as brazen a piece of impudence as I've ever heard of. But I'd rather a man should be that sort than one of your 'Oh, I'm sure I don't mind which' and 'I haven't any choice in the matter' kind of person."
"I count myself fortunate in the possession of your good opinion, Miss Carleton," I said with a bow.
"None of your blarney!" she answered gruffly. "Not that I mind a person being pleasant-spoken and pleasant-mannered," she added, "although Heaven knows I'm rough enough in ways and in speech myself. There's something waiting on the tip of your tongue to say. What is it?"
"There is, but your penetration alarms me," I said. "It was merely to wonder whether I might venture to inquire where your niece has been all this while, and during all these disturbing events?"
"You may. She's in her own room. I told her to stay there till I called her down. I sent up word to her not to be alarmed, before I rang the burglar bell. That's why it didn't go off before you got to the conservatory door. If I'd rung when you left the room as I should have done except for alarming Clara, you would not have got further than the corridor door."
"That was very dear and considerate and thoughtful of you," I replied. "I'm going to be very fond of you, if you'll let me, before I've done, Miss Carleton."