"It is fair play," he said, "so long as you are mine, I will not break my pledge by breathing a word to keep or secure you--even with you for the stakes, I would scorn to cheat--but once he fancies you his, I say you are mine, to win if I can. He may guard you as jealously as ever a Turk his Sultana--I shall still outwit and defy him--cost me what it will-- come what may--I will have you back again." A slight frown knit his brow; his brown eyes were bent on me, with a look both ardent and resolute; there was will and confidence in the smile which curled his lip, and power and daring in his mien. "Cornelius," I said a little startled, "how will you do it?" "Leave that to me, Daisy." "Then, if this is no parting after all," I observed rather perplexed, "why were you so grieved, and why have you let me grieve, Cornelius?" His face fell. He sighed profoundly. "Why?" he said, "why? because, alas! my own will cannot do all. Oh, Daisy! I dread you. I dread you deeply! What avails it to me that I may prevail against others, when with a word you can render me powerless?" He gave me a look of mingled anxiety and doubt. I wanted him to explain himself; but he would not go beyond saying that on me it all depended; an assertion which he repeated with a sigh. I believed him, and passed from grief to sudden gladness. "Then consider it settled," I said laughing joyously. "I am not leaving you, Cornelius. I am going on a week's visit or so to my good grandpapa. Tell Johnstone to send me only the little black trunk, but to put my work in it. I want to have it ready for Kate." We were standing in the path. Cornelius looked down, with a fond yet troubled smile, into my upraised face. "Go on!" he observed, "it sounds too delightful to be true. It is but a dream which the first rude touch of reality will dispel; and yet I like to delude myself and listen; go on!" I did go on, laughing at his credulity. "You must write to Kate," I observed, "and tell her that you are waiting for me. I shall not keep you long; just a week for form's sake." "God grant it," he replied fervently; and we resumed our walk. We found Thornton House as gloomy and neglected as ever. The court was overgrown with grass and weeds; the fountain was still a ruin; the ivy grew thick and dark on the walls, and the yews and cypresses behind only looked more sombre and melancholy for rising, as they did now, in the gay sunlight.