“You preposterous little goose!” said Leon. “There never was a wilder, a sillier, and at the same time a more utterly groundless fancy than this. Why, to begin with, the lady is my cousin.” “I know,” said the lady, sadly. “It seems to me you found out every thing, though how the deuce you contrived it is more than I can tell,” said Leon. “Our faculties are very much sharpened where our interests are concerned,” said the lady, sententiously. “Now, see here,” said Leon. “It is true that this lady is my cousin, and that she is an heiress, and that I am infernally hard up, and that my father sent me here, and that I have been talking with the solicitors; but I swear to you the subject of marriage has not once been mentioned.” “But only thought of,” suggested the other. “Well, I don't know any thing about people's thoughts,” said Leon. “If you go into that style of thing, I give up. By-the-way, you know so much, that I suppose you know the lady's name.” “Oh yes: Miss Dalton--Edith Dalton.” “The devil!” exclaimed Leon. “Well, I confess I'm mystified. How you could have found out all this is utterly beyond me.” “So you have no idea of matrimony, _mon cher_?” said the lady, attempting to use a sprightly tone, but looking at him with a glance so earnest that it showed what importance she attached to his reply. Leon was silent for a moment, and looked at the ground. At last he burst forth impatiently: “Oh, confound it all! what's the use of harping forever on one string, and putting a fellow in a corner all the time? You insist on holding an inquisition about thoughts and intentions. How do I know any thing about that? You may examine me about facts if you choose, but you haven't any business to ask any thing more.” “Well, I suppose it _is_ rather unfair,” said the lady in a sweet voice, “to force one to explain all one's thoughts and intentions; so, _mon cher_, let's cry quits. At any rate, you receive me for your ally, your adviser, your guide, philosopher, and friend. If you want incognitos or disguises, come to me.” “Well, I suppose I must,” said Leon, “since you are here, and won't go; and perhaps you may yet be really useful, but--” “But at first I ought to know what the present condition is of this 'business' of yours.” “Oh, I've no objection to tell you now, since you know so much; in fact, I believe you know all, as it is.” “Well, not quite all.” “It seems to me,” said Leon, “if we're going to talk over this matter any further, we might find some better place than the middle of a public road. Let me see,” he continued, looking all around--“where shall we go?” As he looked around his eyes caught sight of the little river that flowed near, on its course through Dalton to the Bristol Channel. Some trees grew on the margin, and beneath them was some grass. It was not more than twenty yards away. “Suppose we sit there by the river,” said Leon, “and we can talk it over.” The lady nodded, and the two walked to the river margin.