Borne up, however, by the thought of Edward, the slave of the world managed to drag her chain pretty well, and that same afternoon was even equal to the exertion of stepping into her carriage for the purpose of going to work her plantation. Mrs. Langton accompanied her; Edward Thornton remained at home. He had stretched his elegant person in an old- fashioned arm-chair, where he read the newspaper, and looked as politely ennuy? as possible. I sat by the window, looking at the Italian drawings of Cornelius. I had brought them down on the express wish of Mrs. Brand, who, giving them a careless look, had said "how pretty," and thought no more about them. When she left, however, she envied me with a sigh my privilege of being able to stay at home, and congratulated me on my indifference to worldly pleasures. As the door closed on her, Mr. Edward Thornton laid down his newspaper, to say negligently:
"And so, Miss Burns, you really don't care for the world! What a little hermitess!"
"Do you care about it, Sir?"
"I? no; but I'm tired of it."
I smiled and shook my head incredulously. I rather liked my cousin; but I could not help thinking that his character of an old man of the world was more put on than real.
"You don't believe it?" he said.
"No," was my frank reply.
"Now, Miss Burns, what should I care for?"
"Politics?"
"I am sick of them. Standing for a certain borough, and being pelted with eggs and apples, gave me a surfeit."