Now Miss Jane was a very shrewd woman. Her mind had been ingenuously fixed on a marriage between her niece and her protege, up to the moment of the appearance of Muriel's head among the branches. There and then a sense of the incongruity of such a union had struck her with most convincing power. Several forces converged in this blow. One can be mentioned unreservedly, viz., the sudden intuitive recognition of the fact that Muriel would never consent to marry Dempster. Another, equally powerful, must only be hinted:—the lady at that moment had once more, however strangely, a gentleman at her feet. These are the keys to her future conduct.
She was about to go after Muriel, but Dempster clutched her dress.
'I can't,' he whimpered.
'Nonsense. You'll be astonished at your own courage.'
'But the proposal. How am I to say it?'
'Keep a good heart, and remember my instructions. I've told you how to begin. The rest you must do for yourself. Muriel will he here shortly.'
Dempster resigned himself: and in a few seconds fear wound him up to a pitch of nervous excitement, abnormal even with him.
'I'll rehearse again,' he said aloud, withdrawing to the alcove. He got into the strait-jacket once more, and advanced on tip-toe to an imaginary lady. But the charge did not give him satisfaction. He retreated and stepped out a second time. He was too absorbed in his manoeuvres to remember that however perfect he might become, this mode would be out of the question in the impending interview.
'Good evening,' he said impressively to the mossy root, and got down on his knees.
'Miss Chartres'—and persuasion tipped his tongue—'I am burning to know——'