I know anything of my daughter's nature, you will find yourself,
before long, on delicate ground."

"What do you mean, mamma?"

Mrs. Presty had lived in the past age when persons occasionally
used metaphor as an aid to the expression of their ideas. Being
called upon to explain herself, she did it in metaphor, to her
own entire satisfaction.

"Our learned friend here reminds me, my dear Catherine, of a
traveler exploring a strange town. He takes a turning, in the
confident expectation that it will reward him by leading him to
some satisfactory result--and he finds himself in a blind alley,
or, as the French put it (I speak French fluently), in a _cool de
sack_. Do I make my meaning clear, Mr. Sarrazin?"

"Not the least in the world, ma'am."

"How very extraordinary! Perhaps I have been misled by my own
vivid imagination. Let me endeavor to express myself plainly--let
me say that my fancy looks prophetically at what you are going to
do, and sincerely wishes you well out of it. Pray go on."

"And pray speak more plainly than my mother has spoken," Mrs.
Linley added. "As I understood what you said just now, there is a
law, after all, that will protect me in the possession of my
little girl. I don't care what it costs; I want that law."

"May I ask first," Mr. Sarrazin stipulated, "whether you are