She had often heard Mrs. Murray say, “If there is one thing more uncertain even than the verdict of a jury—­if there is one thing which is known neither in heaven, earth, or hell, and which angels and demons alike waste time in guessing at—­it is what style of woman any man will fancy and select for his wife.  It is utterly impossible to predict what matrimonial caprice may or may not seize even the wisest, most experienced, most practical, and reasonable of men; and I would sooner undertake to conjecture how high the thermometer stands at this instant on the crest of Mount Copernicus up yonder in the moon, than attempt to guess what freak will decide a man’s choice of a bride.”

Sternly Edna faced the future, and pictured Gertrude as Mr. Murray’s wife; for if he loved her (and did not his eyes declare it?), of course he would sweep every objection, every obstacle to the winds, and marry her speedily.  She tried to think of him—­the cold, harsh scoffer—­as the fond husband of that laughing child; and though the vision was indescribably painful, she forced herself to dwell upon it.

The idea that he would ever love any one or anything had never until this hour occurred to her; and while she could neither tolerate his opinions or respect his character, she found herself smitten with a great, voiceless anguish at the thought of his giving his sinful bitter heart to any woman.

  “Why did she love him?  Curious fool be still! 
   Is human love the growth of human will?”

Pressing her hand to her eyes she murmured: 

“Gertrude is right; he is fascinating, but it is the fascination of a tempting demon!  Ah! if I had never come here, if I had never been cursed with the sight of his face!  But I am no weak, silly child like Gertrude Powell; I know what my duty is, and I am strong enough to conquer, and if necessary to crush my foolish heart.  Oh!  I know you, Mr. Murray, and I can defy you.  To-day, shortsighted as I have been, I look down on you.  You are beneath me, and the time will come when I shall look back to this hour and wonder if I were temporarily bewitched or insane.  Wake up! wake up! come to your senses, Edna Earl!  Put an end to this sinful folly; blush for your unwomanly weakness!”

As Gertrude’s merry laugh floated up through the trees the orphan lifted her head, and the blood came back to her cheeks while she watched the two figures sauntering across, the smooth lawn.  Gertrude leaned on Mr. Murray’s arm, and as he talked to her his head was bent down, so that he could see the flushed face shaded by her straw hat.

She drew her hand from his arm when they reached the greenhouse, and looking much embarrassed, said hurriedly: 

“I am afraid I have kept you waiting an unconscionable time; but Mr. Murray had so many beautiful things to show me that I quite forgot we had left you here alone.”

“I dare say your mother thinks I have run away with you; and as I have an engagement, I must either bid you good-bye and leave you here with Mr. Murray, or go back at once with you to the house.”