"I could not catch that; she spoke too low. But I should think it was favourable, for there was a great deal of whispering, and after a while I heard something about that dreadful man being Mr. Blake's enemy."
"Ah! How did they know that?"
"I gathered that Mr. Blake told her. Look here, Herod Voltaire; you are playing a losing game."
"I playing a losing game? Do not fear. I'll win, I'll win, or—or—"
Here he paused, as if a thought struck him.
"Why don't you get an influence over her, as you did over Blake? Then you could manage easily." "I cannot. I've tried; her nature is not susceptible; besides, even if I got such a power, I could not use it. You cannot force love, and the very nature of the case would make such a thing impossible. Stay! You know Miss Forrest well, don't you, her education, and her disposition?"
"I've known her long enough."
"Well, tell me whether I am correct in my estimate of her character. If I am, I do not fear. She's very clear-headed, sharp, and clever; a hater of humbug, a despiser of cant."
"True enough; but what's this got to do with the matter?"
"In spite of this, however," went on Voltaire without heeding Miss Staggles' query, "she has a great deal of romance in her nature; has a strong love for mystery, so much so that she is in some things a trifle superstitious."
"I can't say as to that, but I should think you are correct."