I considered the _manner_ of my cousin, more than her mere words, as encouragement to myself, and with all the ardour of my nature declared to her my passion. These were her words in reply: "Theodore, I pretend not to misunderstand you; and, if it be any comfort to you, believe that I most tenderly return your affection. But, oh, my beloved cousin! think how you have been afflicted,--and then ask yourself whether I ought to listen to your proposals? whether you ought to marry? Theodore, I solemnly promise you that, for your sake, never will I wed another; but, oh! ask me not to become your wife whilst you are subject to such a fearful malady." In vain I represented to her that my late mental affliction had been caused wholly by my fear of losing her, as I believed that detested foreigner was exactly the man to charm her, and thus I considered her lost to me for ever. "This, dear Theodore," she answered, "is one of your delusions. You had no cause why you should form such a preposterous notion,--a man old enough to be my father, and----" "That is true," said I, "there is disparity of years; but, then, what a splendid being!" "Yes," she replied coldly, "he wears a most magnificent cloak." "Not always, sure?" I asked inquiringly, for I had never entered the room where he was, since he had cured my mother. "Did he not remove it when he dined and drank tea with you so often, and stayed so late, that I could have torn him to pieces for it?" "Softly, my beloved cousin," said the sweet girl, placing her soft hand before my lips; "why are you so excited now when talking of this stranger? _Your_ mother, Theodore, has been restored by him; and for that service what do we not all owe him?" "Was it for this," I said, "from gratitude alone, you wore that ring?" "Yes, from gratitude only. Are you now satisfied?" "Blessings on you, dearest, for your kindness!" I continued. "But say, did you ever see him without that cloak?" "Never, Theodore, never. It was always too hot or too cold; or he was poorly, or some excuse or other. We never could persuade him to take off that cloak." I fell into a long reverie after this; nor could I blame her for her decision. I knew myself that my brain was not steady, and consequently I had no right to marry, to entail on my innocent offspring such a calamity. But then this inexplicable stranger;--perhaps he had the power to cure me,--he had already performed almost a miracle; if he could but settle my head, my beloved cousin would become mine, and I should be free from those fears that were constantly besetting me of becoming incurably mad.