This dream lay heavy on her mind. For the veiled figure she knew was one she loved, but who had no honest love for her. Her mind had been brooding over the dream all day, and the announcement by Dame Tremblay of the presence in the Château of one who was able to interpret dreams seemed a stroke of fortune, if not an act of Providence.
She roused herself up, and with more animation than Dame Tremblay had yet seen in her countenance, requested her to send up the visitor, that she might ask her a question.
Mère Malheur was quickly summoned to the apartment of Caroline, where Dame Tremblay left them alone.
The repulsive look of the old crone sent a shock through the fine, nervous organization of the young girl. She requested Mère Malheur to be seated, however, and in her gentle manner questioned her about the dream.
Mère Malheur was an adept in such things, and knew well how to humor human nature, and lead it to put its own interpretations upon its own visions and desires while giving all the credit of it to herself.
Mère Malheur therefore interpreted the dream according to Caroline's secret wishes. This inspired a sort of confidence, and Mère Malheur seized the opportunity to deliver the letter from La Corriveau.
“My Lady,” said she, looking carefully round the room to note if the door was shut and no one was present, “I can tell you more than the interpretation of your dream. I can tell who you are and why you are here!”
Caroline started with a frightened look, and stared in the face of Mère Malheur. She faltered out at length,—“You know who I am and why I am here? Impossible! I never saw you before.”
“No, my Lady, you never saw me before, but I will convince you that I know you. You are the daughter of the Baron de St. Castin! Is it not so?” The old crone looked frightfully knowing as she uttered these words.
“Mother of mercies! what shall I do?” ejaculated the alarmed girl. “Who are you to say that?”