"Yes, it may be. On that chance I've been trying to make myself agreeable to-night. He evidently thinks I'm dead in love with him. As if anybody could fancy such a stupid lout. I declare I wish it was somebody else who was going to get the money. The exertions I've made have quite wearied me," and fair Clara yawned excessively.
"If you think you can't like him, it is not too late to withdraw," said the father, who had a little more heart than his daughter.
"Oh, as to that, it isn't of much consequence," said Clara. "I haven't got much sentiment, and if he can show the cash, I'll marry him."
"I presume you won't throw away your fascinations upon him after marriage," said her father.
"You may be sure of that. He'll soon have a realizing sense of my motives in marrying him."
"Suppose he resents it, and treats you badly?" suggested Mr. Manton, with a little paternal solicitude.
"I can protect myself," said Clara, with nonchalance. "He's a weak fool and I can twist him round my finger."
"He may not be as manageable as you think, Clara."
"Oh, I know him thoroughly. He hasn't much spirit. I should be ashamed if I could not manage him."
"You remember Catharine in 'Taming the Shrew'?"
"Very polite, upon my word, to compare me to a shrew. Yes, I remember her; but I shall have a different man to deal with from Petruchio. You needn't trouble yourself about me. I know what I'm about."
"Well, it's your own affair," said Mr. Manton, philosophically. "We shall know in a short time whether I am to welcome a son-in-law."
"Or whether your daughter is to remain a while longer 'an impatient rose on the ancestral tree.'"
"And use her thorns on her father instead of a husband," supplemented Mr. Manton.
"But you are getting bright in your old age, papa. Be careful or the rose may show its thorns."
The conversation just recorded indicates the pleasant prospect which James Cromwell had of domestic happiness in case his wishes were gratified, and he gained the hand of the young lady. But he had no conception of her real disposition, or he might have hesitated to go farther. She had tact enough to veil her faults from the scrutiny of her lover, and present to him only an amiable and agreeable side.
In the morning, James Cromwell started for New York, going by Wheeling. It so chanced that he arrived in the evening at the same hotel where Robert and Major Woodley had rooms. He was fatigued by his long journey, and retired at nine o'clock, or soon after his arrival. He did not think to look over the books of the hotel, or he might have made the discovery that Robert was still alive, and that his journey was likely to prove fruitless. Neither did he meet Major Woodley or Robert, for they were sitting together in the major's room until half-past ten, chatting cosily.