I was thoroughly piqued, and walked restlessly from one end of the verandah to the other. I set my wits to work; thought rapidly followed thought; schemes were made and rejected with every second; at length, both mentally and bodily, I stopped short. "I have it," I thought, triumphantly; "I am not so dull but that I have noticed certain passages between a fair lady and a certain gentleman; I have always thought they would end by marrying; I am certain of it now. I shall act on that belief; say something; no matter what; he likes my _naivete_--to prove to my dear cousin that I consider Edith as good as Mrs. Edward Thornton. Let him like it or not, I shall take his vexation as excellent sport, glide out of it with a laugh, then beg pardon, apologize, and show him he may marry the Queen of Sheba, for all it matters to Daisy Burns." I felt confident of success; and, elated with my scheme, I turned to Mrs. Langton, and said, gaily:-- "I have such a good idea!--only I cannot tell you. But you shall see how it will work." She bit her lip, and gave me a mistrustful look. "I have warned you," she said; "I warn you again; do not think yourself equal to Bertha. If she chooses to convince her brother that you are in love with him, I consider it out of the question that you can prevent her." "I shall see that," I replied, indignantly. "Yes," said Mrs. Langton, "you will have that satisfaction." "Then what should I gain by running away?" I asked, a little tartly. "The best thing I can do is to stay, look on, and learn how these matters are managed." Mrs. Langton gave me another mistrustful look, and withdrew. I saw she did not believe in my sincerity; perhaps she did not think it possible to resist Edward Thornton, and repented having been so frank. Her thoughts did not trouble me. The more I reflected on my scheme, the better I liked it. I enjoyed, in advance, the manner in which my cousin would open his fine blue eyes. I was not vexed with him; but I remembered the Dresden room, and was determined he should be as fairly undeceived as ever he had been deluded. Absorbed in these thoughts, I remained on the verandah, looking at the beautiful garden and grounds beneath. A visitor came, was received by Mrs. Langton, stayed awhile, left, and still I did not re- enter the drawing-room, where Mrs. Brand and her friend now sat, working and talking by lamp-light. At length, scarce knowing why, I began to pay a vague attention to their discourse. "I think we are going to have a storm," said the soft voice of Mrs. Langton; "it will clear the air, perhaps. Doctor Morton says the weather has been so unhealthy; typhus so prevalent amongst the poor. He mentioned the case of a labourer who has just died, leaving a widow and nine children." "Very sad, indeed," composedly replied Mrs. Brand; "but then you know, my dear, typhus is generally confined to the poor--which is a sort of comfort."