What she was telling her dear Bertha. I know not, for at that precise moment, Mr. Thornton and I left the room. He was my cousin and old enough to be my father; I did not think there could he any impropriety in walking out with him, and, secure on this head, I allowed myself to be entertained by his pleasant discourse, and watched for an opportunity of introducing the questions I wished him to answer. That opportunity not coming, I was obliged to enter on the subject somewhat abruptly.
"What a beautiful, rosy cloud," thoughtfully observed my companion.
"Mr. Thornton," I said very earnestly, "I am afraid you are going to think me very impertinent."
Mr. Thornton thus summoned from his cloud, looked as astonished as a man of the world can look, but he promptly recovered, and of course protested against anything of the sort.
"Oh! but I mean it," I resumed; "and yet I cannot help it, you know; that is what makes it so provoking."
Mr. Thornton smiled, and felt convinced that I alarmed myself unnecessarily.
"No, I assure you I do not; and, to prove it, here it is. What sort of a man is Mr. Thornton?"
"A very learned man."
"Ah! but I mean in temper."
"Eccentric."