It did sound so romantic and chivalrous, in spite of Clara's ill-natured prattle, having one's lover coming up a ladder of ropes in the stilly midnight hour, when all were dreaming around. It put me in mind of ladies' bowers, and knights, and cavaliers, and elopements; and dreaming, as I did, I almost began to fancy myself a damsel in distress about to be rescued. I stood there, in our room, in such a sweet, rapt meditation--such a blissful, dreamy, musing fit--when that Clara brought me right down out of the I don't know how manyeth heaven, by saying-- "And where's your string?" I had not thought of that, and it was a puzzle. I had plenty of crochet cotton, and bobbin, and Berlin wool; but then, they were none of them strong enough. Time to buy any there was none; for he was coming that night loaded with his dear ladder; while if I tried to get any from the kitchen, some one would be sure to ask what it was wanted for, then what could I say? And, besides, I had told so many dreadful stories already, and prevaricated so much, that I was quite ashamed. The first thing I determined upon was to make a long plait of my coloured wools; but I soon found that there would not be one quarter enough; then I thought of the girls' slate strings, which held the sponges, and determined to make a raid into the schoolroom and cut them all off, though I felt sure they would not be enough. If I could only have gone out and bought a ball, or sent James, it would have been all right; but that was impossible without first asking Mrs Blunt. Only the week before, a stupid boy's kite came flapping over into the garden, with no end of string, which I might have cut off with my scissors; but I never imagined then that I should want any. However, I did what I generally do when I want to think deeply, I took some eau de Cologne and bathed my temples, and then sat down before the glass, with my hair all thrown back, and my head resting upon my hand, trying to solve the problem, and wondering what Achille could see in me to like; while just then I remember wondering what had become of poor Mr Saint Purre.