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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Daisy Burns (Volume 1), by Julia Kavanagh
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Daisy Burns (Volume 1)
+
+
+Author: Julia Kavanagh
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011  [eBook #36157]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY BURNS (VOLUME 1)***
+
+
+Julia Kavanagh (1824-1877), _Daisy Burns_ (1853), volume 1, Tauchnitz 
+edition
+
+
+Produced by Daniel FROMONT
+
+
+COLLECTION
+
+OF
+
+BRITISH AUTHORS.
+ 
+
+VOL. CCLXIII.
+ 
+
+
+DAISY BURNS BY JULIA KAVANAGH.
+ 
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+ 
+
+VOL. I.
+ 
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION
+ 
+
+
+By the same Author,
+ 
+
+NATHALIE 2 vols.
+
+GRACE LEE 2 vols.
+
+RACHEL GRAY 1 vol.
+
+ADELE 2 vols.
+
+A SUMMER AND WINTER IN THE TWO SICILES 2 vols.
+
+SEVEN YEARS AND OTHER TALES 2 vols.
+
+FRENCH WOMEN OF LETTERS 1 vol.
+
+ENGLISH WOMEN OF LETTERS 1 vol.
+
+QUEEN MAB 2 vols.
+
+BEATRICE 2 vols.
+
+SYBIL'S SECOND LOVE 
+
+DORA 2 vols.
+
+SILVIA 2 vols.
+
+BESSIE 2 vols.
+
+JOHN DORRIEN 2 vols.
+ 
+
+DAISY BURNS;
+ 
+
+A TALE
+ 
+
+BY
+ 
+
+JULIA KAVANAGH,
+ 
+
+AUTHOR OF "NATHALIE."
+
+ 
+
+_COPYRIGHT EDITION_.
+
+ 
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+ 
+
+VOL. I.
+ 
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARDT TAUCHNITZ
+
+1853.
+
+ 
+
+JULIA KAVANAGH
+
+
+DAISY BURNS.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+
+As I sat alone this evening beneath the porch, the autumn wind rose and 
+passed amongst the garden trees, then died away in the distance with a 
+low murmuring. A strange thrill ran through me; the present with its 
+aspects vanished; I saw no more the narrow though dearly loved limits 
+which bound my home; the little garden, so calm and grey in the dewy 
+twilight, was a wide and heaving sea; the low rustling of the leaves 
+seemed the sound of the receding tide; the dim horizon became a circular 
+line of light dividing wastes of waters from the solemn depths of vast 
+skies, and I, no longer a woman sitting in my home within reach of a 
+great city, but an idle, dreaming child, lay in the grassy nook at the 
+end of our garden, whence I watched the ships on their distant path, or 
+sent a wandering glance along the winding beach of sand and rock below.
+
+A moment effaced years, and my childhood, with its home, its joys, and 
+its sorrows, passed before me like a thing of yesterday.
+
+Rock Cottage, as my father had called it, rose on a lonely cliff that 
+looked forth to the sea. It was but a plain abode, with whitewashed 
+walls, green shutters, and low roof, standing in the centre of a wild and 
+neglected garden, overlooked by no other dwelling, and apparently far 
+removed from every habitation. In front, a road, coming down from the low 
+hills of Ryde, wound away to Leigh; behind, at the foot of a cliff, 
+stretched the sea. The people of Leigh wondered "how Doctor Burns could 
+live in a place so bleak and so lonely," and they knew not that to him 
+its charms lay in that very solitude with its boundless horizon; in the 
+murmurs of the wind that ever swept around his dwelling; in the aspect of 
+that sublime sea which daily spread beneath his view, serene or terrible, 
+but ever beautiful.
+
+This was not however the sole recommendation of Rock Cottage; it stood 
+conveniently between the two villages of Ryde and Leigh, of which my 
+father was the only physician. There was indeed a surgeon at Ryde, but he 
+never passed the threshold of the aristocratic mansions to which Doctor 
+Burns was frequently summoned, and whence he derived the larger portion 
+of his income. That income, never very considerable, proved however 
+sufficient to the few wants of the lonely home where my father, a 
+widower, lived with me, his only child.
+
+Of my mother I had no remembrance; my father seldom mentioned her name; 
+but there was a small miniature of her over our parlour mantle-piece, and 
+often in the evening, sitting by our quiet fireside, he would look long 
+and earnestly on the mild and somewhat mournful face before him, then 
+give me a silent caress, as I sat on my stool at his knee, watching him 
+with the ever-attentive look of childhood.
+
+I was sickly and delicate, and he indulged me to excess. "Study," he 
+said, "would only injure me, for I was a great deal too clever and 
+precocious for a child;" so he taught me himself the little I knew, and 
+put off from month to month his long contemplated and still cherished 
+project of sending me to some first-rate school. I believe that in his 
+heart he felt loath to part from me, and was secretly glad to find some 
+excuse that should keep me at home. He never left me in the morning 
+without a caress, and often, when he returned late from visiting some 
+distant patient, his first impulse, as well as his first act, was to 
+enter my room and kiss me softly as I slept. I loved him passionately and 
+exclusively, and years have not effaced either his memory or his aspect 
+from my heart. I remember him still, a man of thirty-five or so, tall, 
+pale, and gentlemanly, with wavy hair of a deep golden brown, and dark 
+grey eyes of singular light and beauty. How he seemed to others I know 
+not: to me he was all that was good and great.
+
+I felt happy to live thus alone with him; I never wished for the 
+companionship of other children; I asked not to move beyond the limits of 
+our home. Silence, repose, and solitude, things so antipathetic to 
+childhood, were the chief pleasures of mine; partly on account of my bad 
+health, and partly, too, because I had inherited from my father a jealous 
+sort of exclusiveness and reserve, by no means held to be the general 
+characteristic of his countrymen.
+
+My happiest moments were those spent in that grassy nook at the end of 
+our garden, to which I have already alluded. A group of dark pine-trees, 
+growing on the very edge of the cliff, sheltered it from the strength of 
+the breeze; close by began a steep path, winding away to the shore, and 
+to which a wooden gate, never locked, gave access. But more blest than 
+ever was Eve in her garden,--for in mine grew no forbidden fruit,--I 
+could spend there an entire day, and forget that only this easy barrier 
+stood between me and liberty. My father, seeing how much I liked this 
+spot, had caused a low wooden bench to be placed for me beneath the pine-
+trees. In the fine weather my delight was to lie there, and to read and 
+dream away whole hours, or to gaze on the clear prospect of the beach 
+below, and, beyond it, on that solemn vastness of sea and sky which, in 
+its sublimity and infinitude, so far surpasses the sights of earth.
+
+It was thus, I remember, that I spent one mild and hazy autumn afternoon, 
+reading, for the twentieth time, the touching story of Pracovia 
+Loupouloff--not the Elizabeth of Madame Cottin, but the real and far more 
+pathetic heroine,--and for the twentieth time, too, thinking with a sort 
+of jealousy and regret, that I was sure I could do quite as much for my 
+father if he were only an exile, when he came and sat down by me. He was 
+going out, and, as usual, would not leave home without giving me a kiss. 
+As he took me on his knee, he saw the book lying open on the bench; he 
+looked at me wistfully, and said with a sigh--
+
+"I wish you would not read so much, my darling. You are always at the 
+books. I have just found my History of Medicine open: what could you want 
+with that?"
+
+"I was reading about the circulation of the blood."
+
+"Well, who discovered it?"
+
+"William Harvey--I wish he had not."
+
+"Why so?" asked my father, looking surprised.
+
+"Because _you_ would," I replied, passing my arms around his neck, and 
+laying my cheek close to his.
+
+He smiled, kissed my forehead, rose to go, took a few steps, came back, 
+and, stooping over me as I lay on the bench, he pressed his lips to mine 
+with lingering tenderness, then left me. I saw him enter the house. I 
+heard him depart, and I even caught a glimpse of him and his grey mare as 
+he rode up the steep path leading to Ryde. I looked and listened long 
+after he had vanished and the tramp of the horse had ceased. Then turning 
+once more towards the sea, I idly watched a fisherman's boat slowly 
+fading away in the grey horizon, and thought all the time what a great 
+man my father might hare been, if William Harvey had not unfortunately 
+discovered the circulation of the blood two hundred years before. I lay 
+there, dreaming the whole noon away, until Sarah came down the garden 
+path in quest of me, and, in her mournful voice, observed--
+
+"Miss Margaret, _will_ you come in to tea?"
+
+"No," I said coolly, "I won't yet."
+
+Sarah turned up her eyes. I certainly was a spoiled child, and I dare say 
+not over-civil; but I did not quite make a martyr of her, as she chose to 
+imagine and liked to say.
+
+"God forgive you and change your heart!" she said piously.
+
+I did not answer. Most children are aristocratic, and I had a certain 
+intuitive scorn of servants; besides, Sarah had only been a few days with 
+us. 
+
+"Will you come in to tea?" she again asked. I took up my book, as if she 
+had not spoken. "Miss," she said solemnly, "there'll be a judgment on you 
+yet."
+
+With this warning she left me. I went in when it pleased me to do so. On 
+entering the parlour, I perceived two cups on the tea-tray. "Is Papa come 
+back?" I asked, without looking at Sarah.
+
+"Miss," she said indignantly, "servants aint dogs, nor cats either. I am 
+ashamed of you, Miss."
+
+"Is Papa come back?" I asked again, with all the insolence of conscious 
+security.
+
+If Sarah had dared, I should then have got a sound slap or box on the 
+ear, but I knew well enough she would not dare: her predecessor had been 
+dismissed for presuming to threaten me with personal chastisement, so she 
+swallowed down her resentment to reply, rather sharply, "No, Miss, the 
+Doctor is not come back, Miss."
+
+I looked at the two tea-cups, and said haughtily, "I'll have my tea 
+alone."
+
+Sarah became as crimson as the ribbons in her cap, gave me a spiteful 
+look, laughed shortly, and vindictively replied. "No, Miss, you'll not 
+have tea alone, Miss. Mr. O'Reilly is come, and as he is not an 
+unfort'nate servant, perhaps you won't mind taking tea with him, Miss."
+
+I sulked on hearing the news.
+
+Cornelius O'Reilly was the friend and countryman of my father, who had 
+known him from his boyhood, and helped to rear and educate him. He came 
+down every autumn to spend ten days or a fortnight at Rock Cottage. He 
+never failed to bring me a present; but this did not render his visits 
+more welcome to me. Whilst he was in the house, I was less petted, less 
+indulged, and, above all, less noticed by my father. It was this I could 
+not forgive the young man.
+
+On noticing the unamiable look with which I heard the news of his 
+arrival, Sarah indignantly exclaimed, "You ought to blush, Miss, you 
+ought, for being so jealous of your poor Pa! Do you think he is to look 
+at nobody but you? Suppose he were to marry again?"
+
+"He won't, you know he won't," I interrupted, almost passionately; "and 
+you know he said you were not to say it."
+
+This was true; for Sarah, once feeling more than usually "aggravated" 
+with me, had chosen to inform me "that if my Pa went every day to see 
+Miss Murray, it was not all because she was poorly, but because he was 
+going to marry that lady; and that I and her nephew William were to be 
+got rid of by being sent to school as soon as the wedding was over."
+
+She spoke positively. I believed her, and took the matter so much to 
+heart that my father perceived it, learned the cause, and, after 
+relieving me with the assurance that he was quite determined never to 
+marry a second time, and that I was to be his only pet and darling, 
+called in Sarah, and in my presence administered to her a short and 
+severe reprimand, which she resentfully remembered as one of my many 
+offences. Being now beaten on this point, she sharply observed, "Well, 
+Miss, is it a reason, because our Pa won't marry again, that we are to be 
+rude to our Pa's friend?"
+
+I did not answer.
+
+"I am sure he is kind," she continued, "it's in his face."
+
+No reply.
+
+"I never saw a better-tempered looking gentleman."
+
+I was obstinately silent.
+
+"Nor a handsomer one," persisted Sarah, on whom the young Irishman's 
+appearance seemed to have produced a strong impression; "there is not one 
+like him from Ryde to Leigh."
+
+She spoke pointedly. I felt myself redden.
+
+"He is not half so handsome as Papa," I replied indignantly.
+
+"Right, Margaret," observed a good-humoured voice behind us; and 
+Cornelius O'Reilly, who had overheard the latter part of our discourse, 
+entered the parlour as he spoke.
+
+Sarah uttered a little scream, then hung down her head in maidenly 
+distress; to recover from her confusion, and perhaps to linger in the 
+room, she began to shift and rattle the tea-things, whilst Cornelius, 
+sitting down by the table, signed me to approach. I did do so,--not very 
+graciously, I am afraid. He took both my hands in one of his, and resting 
+the other on my head, looked down at me with a smile. I had often seen 
+him before, yet when I look back into the past, I find that from this 
+autumn noon, as I stood before him with my hands in his, dates my first 
+clear and distinct recollection of Cornelius O'Reilly.
+
+He was then about twenty, tall, decided in manner and bearing, and 
+strikingly handsome, with heavy masses of dark wavy hair, which he often 
+shook back by a hasty and impatient motion. His face was characteristic, 
+frank, and proud, with a broad brow, ardent hazel eyes, full and 
+brilliant as those of the hawk, and arched features, which, though 
+neither Greek nor Roman, impressed themselves on the memory as vividly as 
+any ancient type. His look was both kind and keen; his smile pleasant and 
+perplexing. Every one liked it, but few understood it rightly: it was so 
+ready for raillery, so indulgent, and withal so provokingly careless. 
+Like the face, it expressed a mobile temper, ingenuous in its very 
+changes; a mind that yielded to every impression, and was mastered by 
+none.
+
+Such was then Cornelius O'Reilly; not that he seemed so to me, but the 
+gaze of childhood is as observant as it is unreflecting, and I 
+unconsciously noted signs of which I knew not how to read the meaning.
+
+"Well, Margaret, how are you?" asked Cornelius, after a sufficiently long 
+silence.
+
+"Very well, thank you," I replied in a low tone, and making a useless 
+effort to disengage my hands from his grasp. Without seeming to notice 
+this, he continued, nodding at a brown-paper parcel on the table--
+
+"There is a cake, which my sister Kate sends you, with her very kind 
+love."
+
+I saw Sarah turning up her eyes in admiration, and this induced me to 
+make a reply which I am ashamed to record, it was so ungracious:
+
+"I never eat cake," I said.
+
+"Miss!" began Sarah.
+
+"And I have brought you this," interrupted the young man, drawing forth a 
+book from his pocket. He held it before my eyes; it had a bright cover, 
+with a gilt title; the temptation was strong, but not stronger than my 
+stubborn pride.
+
+"Papa gives me books," I replied.
+
+"Oh! very well," smilingly answered Cornelius; "I shall give him this to 
+give to you."
+
+His good-humoured forbearance began to make me feel penitent, when again 
+Sarah interfered with an unlucky "For shame, Miss!"
+
+"She is only shy," kindly said Cornelius.
+
+"Oh! Sir, it is sly we are," replied Sarah with a prim smile; "if we 
+durst, we'd scamper away through that open door; ay, that we would!" she 
+added, emphatically nodding her head at me. "We are very unkind, Sir."
+
+"Not at all," observed Cornelius, taking my part; "Margaret is very fond 
+of me, only she does not like to say so. Are you not, my dear?" he added 
+with provoking confidence.
+
+"No," was my reply, more frank than civil.
+
+"Indeed you are, and the proof of it is that of your own accord you are 
+going to give me a kiss."
+
+I was astounded at the audacious idea. I never kissed any one but my 
+father. Alas! I fear I thought myself and my childish caresses very 
+precious things indeed. Cornelius laughed, and stooped; but as he gently 
+released my hands at the same time, I eluded the caress, and darted 
+through the open door up the dark staircase. Sarah wanted to rush after 
+me. Cornelius interfered, and again said I was shy.
+
+"Shy, Sir! shy!" echoed Sarah with a short, indignant laugh, "bless you, 
+Sir, it is pride: she is as proud as Lucifer, and as obstinate, too. I 
+could beat that child to death, Sir, and not make her kiss me. No one 
+knows how she has tried my feelings. I am naturally fond of children, and 
+I have been in families where young ladies used to doat on me, and 
+scarcely care for their Mas, much less for their Pas; but with Miss 
+Margaret it is just the reverse. You may wait on her, scold, praise, 
+coax; it is all one: she cares for no one but for her Pa--of whom she is 
+as jealous as can be, Sir; and if she doesn't like you, Sir, why she 
+won't like you, and there's an end of it."
+
+He laughed, as she paused, out of breath at the volubility with which she 
+had spoken. I waited not to hear more, but softly stole up to my room. I 
+feared neither darkness nor solitude; besides the moon had risen, and her 
+pale, mild light fell on the floor. So I sat down by my bed, laid my head 
+on the pillow, and, as I thus faced the window, I looked at the open sky 
+beyond it, and watched a whole flock of soft white clouds slowly 
+journeying towards the west. I thought to remain thus until I should hear 
+the well-known tramp of my father's horse coming down the stony road, but 
+unconsciously my eyes closed and I fell fast asleep.
+
+How long I slept I cannot tell. I know that I had a fearful dream, which 
+I have never been able to remember, and that I woke with the cold dews on 
+my brow and an awful dread at my heart. I looked up trembling with 
+terror; a large dark cloud was passing over the moon; in my room there 
+was the gloom of midnight, but not its silence. Unusual tumult filled our 
+quiet home; I listened and heard the voices of strange men, and above 
+them that of Sarah, rising loud in lamentation, and exclaiming, "Oh! my 
+poor master!"
+
+My next remembrance is, that standing on the steps of the staircase, I 
+looked down at something passing below; that a sharp current of cold air 
+came from the open front door, beyond which I caught sight of a starry 
+sky; that on the threshold of the parlour stood, with their backs to me, 
+three men in coarse jackets; and that, looking beyond them in the room, I 
+saw Sarah weeping bitterly, and holding a flickering light, whilst 
+Cornelius O'Reilly bent over my father, who sat in his chair motionless 
+and deadly pale. He said something; Cornelius looked at Sarah; she laid 
+down the light, came out, shut the door, and all vanished like a vision 
+lost in sudden obscurity. And a vision I might have thought it, but for 
+the subdued speech that followed. Sarah was sobbing in the dark passage.
+
+"Come, girl, don't take on so," said a man's voice, speaking low, 
+"where's the use? Any one can see it is all over with the poor doctor."
+
+"Oh! don't," incoherently exclaimed Sarah, "don't."
+
+"He said so himself, and he ought to know. 'It is all over with me, 
+Dick,' says he, when we picked him up from where that cursed horse had 
+thrown him; 'take me home to die,' says he, 'take me home to die.'"
+
+Sarah moaned; the other two men said nothing; had they but uttered a 
+word, I should have remembered it, for I still seem to hear distinctly, 
+as if but just fallen from the lips of the speaker, not merely the words, 
+but the very intonations of that voice to which, standing on the dark 
+staircase, I then listened in all the stupor of grief. Scarcely had it 
+ceased, when the parlour door opened; Cornelius, looking very sad and 
+pale, appeared on the threshold, and, raising his voice, called out, 
+"Margaret!"
+
+I sprang down at once; in a second I was by my father, with my arms round 
+his neck, my cheek to his. He bore no sign of external injury; but his 
+brow was ashy pale; his look was dim; his lips were white. He recognized 
+me, for he looked from me to Cornelius, with a glance that lit suddenly. 
+The young man laid his hand on my shoulder; tears ran down his face, and 
+his lips trembled as he said, "May God forsake me when I forsake your 
+child!"
+
+My father made an effort; he raised himself on one elbow.
+
+"Tell Kate--" he began; but the words that should have followed died away 
+in a mere incoherent murmur: he sank back; there was a sound of heavy 
+breathing; then followed a deep stillness. I felt the hand of Cornelius 
+leaning more heavily upon my shoulder. "Sarah!" he said, looking towards 
+the door, and speaking in a whisper.
+
+She came forward, took my hand, and led me away. She wept bitterly; I 
+looked at her, and shed not one tear. I know not what I felt then; it was 
+dread, it was agony, stupor, and grief.
+
+Alas! I learned in that hour how bitter a chalice even a poor little 
+child may be called upon to drink; how early all may learn to feel the 
+weight of that hand which, heavy as it seems, chastens not in its wrath, 
+but in its tenderness.  
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ 
+
+My father was dead. He who had kissed me a few hours before,--whose 
+return--God help me, unhappy child!--I had expected, but whose caresses 
+had ceased for ever, for whose coming I might listen in vain,--my father, 
+who loved me so very dearly, was dead.
+
+Of what had befallen me, of the change in my destinies, this was all I 
+clearly understood, and this, alas! I understood but too well. When 
+Cornelius came to me, as I sat alone in the back parlour, where Sarah had 
+taken and left me, when he said, "Margaret, you must go with Sarah!" I 
+neither refused nor resisted. I asked not even why or where I was going. 
+I had been a proud and obstinate child, I was now humble and submissive. 
+I felt, in a manner I cannot define, it was so acute and deep, that my 
+power was over. He who knew not how to deny aught to my entreaties or 
+tears was lying in the next room, cold and inanimate: nor voice, nor 
+embrace of his child would move him now.
+
+Sarah took me to the imaginary step-mother with whom she had once 
+terrified me. Miss Murray was a pale, fair-haired, invalid lady of 
+thirty, who resided in a neat hive-looking little place, called 
+Honeysuckle Cottage; there she dwelt like a solitary bee, sitting in her 
+chair and working the whole day long, with slow industry, or conning over 
+her ailments in a faint, murmuring voice, that reminded one of the hum of 
+a distant hive. She disliked sound, motion, and light; and kept her 
+floors soft, and her windows shrouded and dim. Pets were her horror,--
+they made a noise and moved about; flowers she tolerated,--they were 
+quiet and silent. She neither went out nor received visits, but lived in 
+a hushed, dreamy, twilight way, suited to her health, mind, and temper. 
+We found Miss Murray already apprised of my father's death. She sat in 
+her parlour, with a soft cambric handkerchief to her eyes; near her stood 
+her servant Abby, suggesting consolation. A lamp with a dark green shade, 
+burned dimly on the table.
+
+"I cannot survive it, Abby, I cannot," faintly sighed Miss Murray; "a 
+friend--"
+
+"The best friends must part, Ma'am."
+
+"A friend, Abby, who understood my constitution so well. Abby, who is 
+that?"
+
+"Please, Ma'am," said Sarah, leading me in, "Mr. O'Reilly will take it so 
+kind if you--"
+
+"You need not mention it, Sarah, I understand; the subject is a painful 
+one. You may leave the dear child to me. I am sure she will forbear to 
+distress me, in my weak state, by unavailing regrets. No one can have 
+more cause than I have, to regret the invaluable friend to whom I owe 
+years of existence."
+
+"She doesn't cry!" said Abby, looking at me.
+
+"She never cries," emphatically observed Sarah; "that child is dreadful 
+proud, Ma'am."
+
+"She is quite right," gravely remarked Miss Murray; "tears are most 
+injurious to the system. Come here, my dear, and sit by me."
+
+She pointed to a low stool near her chair. I did not move. Sarah had to 
+lead me to it; as I sat down apathetically, she made a mysterious sign to 
+the lady.
+
+"Not insane, surely?" exclaimed Miss Murray, wheeling off her chair with 
+sudden alarm and velocity.
+
+"Oh dear no, Ma'am! rather idiotic; always thought so from her dreadful 
+stubbornness."
+
+"Sad," sighed Miss Murray, "but quiet at least. Good evening, Sarah. 
+Abby, pray keep a look-out for that dreadful boy: my nerves are unusually 
+weak."
+
+The two servants left on tiptoe, and softly closed the door. I remained 
+alone with Miss Murray.
+
+"My dear," she began, "I hope you are not going to fret; it would be so 
+unchristian. I have lost a kind father, an invaluable mother, an 
+affectionate aunt, the dearest of brothers--" The list was interrupted by 
+the door which opened very gently, to admit a lad of eleven or twelve, 
+tall, strong, fair-headed, rather handsome, but looking as rough and rude 
+as a young bear. This was her nephew William. His father had died some 
+six months before bequeathing him to the guardianship of his aunt, who 
+immediately committed him to school for bad behaviour, and to whom his 
+periodical visits, during the holidays, were a source of acute distress. 
+On seeing him enter, Miss Murray turned up her eyes like one prepared for 
+anything, and faintly observed, "William, have you seen Abby?"
+
+"Yes," was his sulky reply.
+
+"Then let me beseech you," she pathetically rejoined, "to respect my 
+feelings and those of this dear child."
+
+He looked at me, but never answered. She continued, "Don't behave like a 
+young savage,--if you can help it," she kindly added.
+
+William scowled at his aunt, and thrust his hands into his pockets by way 
+of reply.
+
+"You have passed through the same trial," pursued Miss Murray, "and, 
+though I cannot say that your language has always been sufficiently 
+respectful towards the memory of my lamented brother--"
+
+"Why did he leave me to petticoat government?" angrily interrupted 
+William; "you don't think I am going to be trodden down by a lot of 
+women. I come in singing, not knowing anything, and Abby calls me a 
+laughing hyena; and I am scarcely in the room before you set me down as a 
+savage! I won't--there!"
+
+This must have meant something, for Miss Murray bewailed her unhappy 
+fate, whilst William doggedly sat down by the table, across which he 
+darted surly glances at me.
+
+"I do not mean to reproach the memory of my dearest brother," feelingly 
+began Miss Murray, "but really if he had had any consideration for me, 
+and my weak state, he ought to have taken more care of himself, and tried 
+to live longer. William, what do you mean by those atrocious grimaces?"
+
+"I wish she wouldn't;" said William, whose features worked in a very 
+extraordinary manner; "I wish she wouldn't."
+
+Miss Murray followed the direction of his glance, and looked round to 
+where I sat a little behind her.
+
+"I declare the unfortunate child is crying," she exclaimed, in a tone of 
+distress,--"sobbing too! William, ring the bell,--call Abby. My dear, how 
+can you? Oh! Abby, Abby," she added, as the door opened, and Abby 
+entered, "look--is there no way of stopping that?"
+
+"Doesn't she cry though?" observed Abby, astonished.
+
+I had bowed my head on my knees, and I wept and sobbed passionately. Miss 
+Murray, after vainly asking for the means "of stopping that," declared I 
+should go to bed. I made no resistance; Abby took my hand to lead me 
+away; when William, exclaiming, "It's a burning shame, that's what it 
+is," flew at her and attempted a rescue. A scuffle followed, short but 
+decisive. William was ignominiously conquered; he retreated behind the 
+table, his hair in great disorder, his face crimson with shame.
+
+"Oh! the young tiger!" cried Abby, still out of breath with her victory; 
+"that boy will end badly, Ma'am!"
+
+William gave her a look of scorn. Miss Murray, who had wheeled back her 
+chair, from the commencement of the conflict, observed, with feeling 
+reproach, "William, you shall go back to school to-morrow. Abby, put that 
+child to bed; allow me to suggest the passage for your next battle."
+
+Abby slammed the door indignantly, and muttering she would not fight in a 
+passage for any one, she took me to her room, undressed me, and put me to 
+bed. My weeping had not ceased.
+
+"Come, Miss," she said, a little roughly, "crying is no use, you know."
+
+She stooped to give me a kiss; I turned away with passionate sorrow. What 
+was to me the caress of a stranger on the night that had deprived me for 
+ever of my father's embrace?
+
+"Proud little hussy!" she exclaimed, half angrily.
+
+With this she left me. Ere long she returned, and lay down by my side; 
+she was soon breathing hard and loud. I silently cried myself to sleep.
+
+I awoke the next morning, subdued by grief into a mute apathy that 
+delighted Miss Murray when I went down to breakfast, and made her hold me 
+up as a model to her nephew.
+
+He replied with great disgust, "He was not going to make a girl of 
+himself, to please her and Abby."
+
+"But you could respect the child's feelings by remaining silent," 
+remonstrated his aunt, gently sipping her tea.
+
+"Why don't you eat?" asked William, addressing me.
+
+"I am not hungry."
+
+"All children are not voracious, like you, William," said Miss Murray.
+
+"Have you got an aunt?" he inquired, ignoring her remark.
+
+"No!" I answered laconically, for his questions wearied me.
+
+"Lucky!" he replied, with a look and sigh of envy.
+
+"Dreadful!" murmured Miss Murray, putting down her cup,--"not twelve yet; 
+dreadful!"
+
+"Who is to take care of you?" continued William.
+
+Miss Murray was one of the many good-natured persons who dislike 
+uncomfortable facts and questions. She nervously exclaimed, "Do not mind 
+him, my dear!"
+
+"Don't you like them?" pursued William.
+
+I gave him no reply.
+
+"Quite right," approvingly observed Miss Murray; "take example of that 
+child, William."
+
+"She is a sulky little monkey!" he indignantly exclaimed, and, until his 
+departure, which took place in the course of the day, he spoke no more to 
+me.
+
+A week passed; the only incident it produced was that I was clad in 
+mourning from head to foot. I continued to charm Miss Murray by a 
+listless apathy, which increased every day. I either sat in the parlour 
+looking at her sewing, or in a little back garden, on a low wooden bench 
+near the door. Once there, I moved no more until called in by Abby. Thus 
+she and Sarah found me late one afternoon, at the close of the week. I 
+took no notice of their approach. They looked at me, and sagaciously 
+nodded their heads at one another. A mysterious dialogue followed.
+
+"Eh?" inquiringly said Sarah.
+
+"Yes!" emphatically replied Abby.
+
+"Never!" exclaimed Sarah.
+
+"Oh dear, no!" was the decisive answer.
+
+Sarah sighed, sat down by me, asked me how I was; if I knew her; and 
+other questions of the sort. I neither looked at her nor replied. She 
+rose, held herself up as a warning to Abby "not to place her affections 
+on Master William;" to which Abby indignantly replied "there was no 
+fear;" then solemnly forgave me my ingratitude.
+
+As they re-entered the house, I thought I heard the voice of Cornelius 
+O'Reilly in the passage. My apathy vanished as if by magic. I was roused 
+and rebellious. Cornelius O'Reilly had not come near me since my father's 
+death: at once I guessed his errand was to take me away with him. I 
+looked around me: a back door afforded means of escape; I opened it, 
+slipped out unperceived, then glided along a lonely lane. In a few 
+minutes I had reached Rock Cottage, unseen and unmissed.
+
+The home is an instinct of the heart, and as the wounded bird flies to 
+its nest, I fled for refuge to the dwelling which had sheltered me so 
+long.
+
+The garden-gate stood open, but the front door and windows were shut. I 
+went round to the back of the house; my heart sank to find that there too 
+all was closed and silent. I sat down on the last of the stone steps, 
+vaguely hoping that some one would open and let me in. I listened for the 
+coming of a foot, for the tones of a voice; but sounds of life there were 
+none. Above me bent a lowering sky, sullen and dark; the wind had risen; 
+the pine-trees at the end of the garden bent before the blast, then rose 
+again, seeming to send forth a low and wild lament; the tide was coming 
+in, and the broken dash of the waves against the base of the cliff was 
+followed by their receding murmur, full and deep.
+
+An unutterable sense of woe, of my desolate condition, of all that had 
+been mine and never could be mine again, came over me; my heart, bursting 
+with a grief that had remained silent, could bear no more. I gave one 
+dreary look around me, then clasping my arms above my head, and lying 
+across the stone steps, I wept passionately on the threshold of my lost 
+home. At length a kind voice roused me.
+
+"Margaret, what are you doing here?" asked Cornelius.
+
+I neither moved nor replied. He sat down by me and raised me gently. I 
+gazed at him vacantly. His handsome face saddened.
+
+"Poor little thing!" he said, "poor little thing!" He took my cold hands 
+in his, and drew me closer to him. Subdued by grief, I yielded. I had 
+refused his presents, shunned his caresses, been jealous, proud, and 
+insolent, hated the very thought of his presence in my father's house, 
+and now he came to seek me on the threshold of that house, to take me--a 
+miserable outcast child--in his embrace.
+
+The thrill of a strange and rapid emotion ran through me. I disengaged my 
+hands from those of Cornelius, and, with a sudden impulse, threw my arms 
+around his neck. My cheek lay near his; his lips touched mine; I mutely 
+returned the caress. I was conquered.
+
+I was a child, how could I but feel with a child's feelings, entirely? I 
+kept back nothing; I knew not how or why, but I gave him my whole heart 
+from that hour.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ 
+
+Cornelius O'Reilly had too much tact not to perceive at once the 
+ascendency he had obtained over the proud and shy child, who, after 
+rejecting his kindness for years, had yielded herself up in a moment. He 
+looked down at me with a thoughtful, amused smile, which I understood, 
+but which did not make me even change my attitude. I felt so happy thus, 
+from the very sense of a submission which implied on my part dependence--
+that blessed trust of the child; on his, protection--that truest pleasure 
+of strength; on both, affection, without which dependence becomes slavish 
+and protection a burden.
+
+The temper of Cornelius was open and direct; he claimed his authority at 
+once, and found me more docile than I had ever been rebellious: it was no 
+more in my nature to yield half obedience than to give divided love.
+
+"We must go, Margaret," he said, in a tone which, though kind, did not 
+admit of objection.
+
+I rose and took his hand without a murmur.
+
+We returned to Honeysuckle Cottage, where we found Miss Murray calmly 
+wondering to Abby "what could have become of the dear child."
+
+Cornelius inquired at what hour the stage-coach passed through Ryde.
+
+"Half-past nine, Sir," replied Abby.
+
+"Margaret, get ready," said Cornelius, looking at his watch, a present of 
+my father's.
+
+I went upstairs with Abby, who dressed and brought me down again in 
+stately silence.
+
+"It shall be attended to, Mr. O'Reilly," gravely observed Miss Murray to 
+Cornelius, as we entered the parlour.
+
+He heard me, and, without turning round, said quietly, "Margaret, go and 
+bid Miss Murray good-bye, and thank her for all her kindness."
+
+"Will you not also give me a kiss?" gently asked Miss Murray, as, going 
+up to her, I did as I was bid, and no more.
+
+I looked at Cornelius; the meaning of his glance was plain. I kissed Miss 
+Murray. She drew out her handkerchief, wished for a niece instead of a 
+nephew, then shook hands with Cornelius, and, sinking back after a faint 
+effort to rise, she rang the bell.
+
+Abby let us out. Cornelius quietly slipped something in her hand, then 
+looked at me expressively.
+
+"Good-bye, Abby," I said; and I kissed her as I had kissed her mistress.
+
+"Well, to be sure!" she exclaimed; but Cornelius only smiled, took my 
+hand, and led me away.
+
+For a while we followed the road that led to Ryde, and passed by Rock 
+Cottage; but suddenly leaving to our right my old home and the sea, we 
+turned down a lonely lane on our left. Dusk had set in, and our way lay 
+through solitary fields, fenced in by hedges and dark spectral trees, 
+behind which shone the full moon, looking large and red in the thick haze 
+of evening mists. We met no one; and of cottage, farm, or homestead, 
+howsoever lonely, token there seemed none. A sombre indefinite line, like 
+the summit of some ancient forest, rose against the dark sky, and bounded 
+the horizon before us. I looked in vain for the hills of Ryde. I turned 
+to Cornelius to question him; but he seemed so abstracted that I did not 
+dare to speak. We walked on silently.
+
+A quarter of an hour brought us to the end of the lane, which terminated 
+in a high brick wall, overshadowed by tall trees for a considerable 
+distance. Through a massive iron gate, guarded by a dilapidated-looking 
+lodge, we caught a glimpse of a long avenue, at the end of which burned a 
+solitary light. Cornelius rang a bell; a surly-looking porter came out of 
+the lodge, opened the gate, locked it when we were within, pointed to the 
+right, then re-entered the lodge,--the whole without uttering a word.
+
+The avenue which we now followed, extended through a dreary-looking park, 
+and ended with two old iron lamp-posts, one extinguished, broken, and 
+lying on the ground half hidden by rank weeds, the other still standing 
+and bearing its lantern of tarnished glass, in which the flame burned 
+dimly. The two had once formed an entrance to a square court, with a 
+ruined stone fountain in the centre, and beyond it an old brick 
+Elizabethan mansion, on which the pale moonlight now fell. Heavy, brown 
+with age, dark with ivy, it rested with a wearied air on a low and 
+massive arcade. It faced the avenue, and was sheltered behind by a grove 
+of yews and cypresses that rose solemn and motionless, giving it an 
+aspect both sombre and funereal. No light came from the closed windows; 
+the whole place looked as dark and silent as any ruin. We crossed the 
+court, and Cornelius knocked at the front door, which projected slightly 
+from both house and arcade.
+
+"Do you live here?" I asked.
+
+"No, child; surely you know I live in London with my sister Kate!"
+
+As he spoke, a small slipshod servant-girl unbarred and partly opened the 
+door. She held a tallow-candle in one hand; the other kept the door ajar. 
+Through the opening she showed us the half of a round and astonished 
+face. 
+
+"Mr. Thornton--" began Cornelius. 
+
+"He won't see you," she interrupted, and attempted to shut the door, but 
+this Cornelius prevented by interposing his hand.
+
+"I am come on business," he said.
+
+"Where's the letter?" asked the little servant, stretching out her hand 
+to receive it.
+
+"Letter! I have no letter, but here is my card." 
+
+She shook her head, would not take the card, and, in a tone of deep 
+conviction, declared, "it was not a bit of use."
+
+"I tell you I am come on business!" impatiently observed Cornelius.
+
+"Well, then, where's the letter?"
+
+There was so evident a connection in her mind between business and a 
+letter, that, annoyed as he was, Cornelius could not help laughing.
+
+"I wish I had a letter, since your heart is set upon one," he replied, 
+good-humouredly; "however, I come not to deliver a letter, but to speak 
+to Mr. Thornton on very important business."
+
+"Can't you give the letter, then?" she urged, in a tone of indignant 
+remonstrance at his obstinacy.
+
+Cornelius searched in his pockets; no letter came forth. "On my word," he 
+gravely observed, "I have not got one; no, not even an old envelope."
+
+"You can't come in, then!" she said, looking at him from behind the door, 
+as sharp and as snappish as a young pup learning to keep watch.
+
+"I beg your pardon, I will go in," replied Cornelius with cool civility.
+
+"If you don't take that there hand of yours away," cried the girl with 
+startling shrillness, "I shall set the light at it."
+
+"Indeed! I am not going to have my poor fingers singed!" said Cornelius, 
+very decisively; so saying, he stooped and suddenly blew out the light.
+
+She screamed, dropped the candlestick, and let go the door: we entered; 
+the girl ran away along the passage lit with a faint glimmering light 
+proceeding from the staircase above.
+
+"Do you take me for a housebreaker?" asked Cornelius; "I tell you I want 
+to speak to Mr. Thornton on business."
+
+She stopped short, looked at him with sullen suspicion, and doggedly 
+replied, "Master won't see you; he won't see none but the gentleman from 
+London."
+
+"I am from London," quietly said Cornelius.
+
+She stared for awhile like one bewildered, then opened a side-door whence 
+issued a stream of ruddy light, and muttering something in which the word 
+"London" was alone distinguishable, she showed us in and closed the door 
+upon us.
+
+We found ourselves in a large room, scant of chairs and tables, but so 
+amply stocked with books, globes, maps, stuffed animals, cases of 
+insects, geological specimens, and odd-looking machines and instruments, 
+that we could scarcely find room to stand. A bright fire burned on the 
+wide hearth, yet the whole place had a mouldy air and odour, and looked 
+like a magician's chamber. A lamp suspended from the ceiling, and burning 
+rather dimly, gave a spectral effect. Its circle of light was shed over a 
+square table covered with papers, and by which sat a singular-looking 
+man--one of the numberless magicians of modern times, clad, it is true, 
+in every-day attire, but whose characteristic features, swarthy 
+complexion, and white hair and beard, needed not the flowing robe or 
+mystic belt to seem impressive. He was too intent on examining some 
+important beetle through a magnifying glass to notice our insignificant 
+approach, more than by a certain waving motion of the hand, implying the 
+absolute necessity of silence on our part, and on his the utter 
+impossibility of attending to us. At length he looked up, and fastening a 
+pair of piercing black eyes on Cornelius, he addressed him with the 
+abrupt observation: "Sir, I am intensely busy, but you are welcome; pray 
+be seated." 
+
+
+Cornelius looked round: there was but one chair free, he gave it to me, 
+remained standing himself, and, turning to Mr. Thornton, observed, "I am 
+come, Sir, on the matter I mentioned in my letter of Wednesday last, and 
+which you have not, I dare say, had leisure to answer."
+
+Mr. Thornton did not reply; he sat back in his chair looking at Cornelius 
+from head to foot.
+
+"Sir!" he said, in a tone of incredulous surprise, "you are young--very. 
+I don't know you."
+
+Cornelius reddened, and stiffly handed his card, which Mr. Thornton 
+negligently dropped.
+
+"I cannot say I have ever heard of Cornelius O'Reilly," he remarked; "but 
+I have been years away. You may be famous for all I know; but, I repeat 
+it, you are very young, Sir."
+
+He spoke with an air of strong and settled conviction.
+
+"I claim no celebrity," drily replied Cornelius, "and my age has nothing 
+to do with my errand. I am come to--" here he stopped short, on 
+perceiving that Mr. Thornton, after casting several longing looks at his 
+beetle, had gradually, like a needle attracted by a potent magnet, been 
+raising the magnifying glass to the level of his right eye, which it no 
+sooner reached, than he made a sudden dart down at the table; but, when 
+the voice of Cornelius ceased, he started, looked up, and said, with a 
+sigh of regret, "You came to have some difficult point settled? Well, 
+Sir, though I have only been three days in England, I do not complain; 
+but you see this fascinating specimen; I beseech you to be brief." He 
+laid down the magnifying glass, and wheeled away his chair from the reach 
+of temptation.
+
+"I am come to give, not to seek, information," quietly answered 
+Cornelius.
+
+"You bring me a specimen," interrupted Mr. Thornton, his small black eyes 
+kindling. "A Melolo--!"
+
+"A specimen of humanity," interrupted Cornelius,--"a child."
+
+"A child!" echoed Mr. Thornton, whose look for the first time fell on me; 
+"and a little girl, too!" he added, throwing himself back in his chair 
+with mingled disgust and wonder.
+
+"She is ten,--an orphan; and I have brought her to you as to her natural 
+protector," composedly observed Cornelius.
+
+Mr. Thornton looked unconvinced.
+
+"She may be ten,--an orphan; but I don't see why you bring her to me."
+
+"You do not know?"
+
+"No, Sir; I am said to be a learned man, but in this point I confess my 
+ignorance."
+
+Without heeding his impatience, Cornelius calmly replied, "I have brought 
+her to you, Sir, because she is your grand-daughter."
+
+Mr. Thornton gave a jump that nearly upset the table; but promptly 
+recovering, and feeling irritated, perhaps, in proportion to his 
+momentary emotion, he observed, in an irascible tone, "I am amazed at 
+you, Sir! Not satisfied with introducing yourself to me as a scientific 
+man from London,--a fact directly contradicted by your juvenile 
+appearance,--you want to palm off your little girls upon me! My grand-
+daughter!--Sir, I have no grand-daughter."
+
+The look of Cornelius kindled; but he controlled his temper, to say, 
+quietly, "If you had taken, Sir, the trouble to read a letter which I 
+regret to see lying on your table with the seal unbroken, you would have 
+learned that this is the child of Mr. Thornton's daughter, who has been 
+dead some years, and of Dr. Edward Burns, who died the other day, killed 
+by a fall from his horse."
+
+Mr. Thornton did not answer; he took a letter lying on a pile of books, 
+broke the seal, read it through; then laid it down, and looked 
+thoughtful.
+
+"Well, Sir!" he observed, after a pause; and speaking now in the tone of 
+a man of the world, "I acknowledge my mistake, and beg your pardon. But I 
+never read business letters, for one of which I took yours."
+
+He spoke very civilly, but said not a word concerning the subject of the 
+letter; of which, quite as civilly, Cornelius reminded him.
+
+"The statements made in that letter require some proof," he observed, 
+"and--"
+
+"Your word suffices," interrupted Mr. Thornton, very politely. "I am 
+satisfied."
+
+Cornelius bowed, but persisted.
+
+"I have not the honour of being personally known to you, Sir; I would 
+rather--"
+
+"Sir, one gentleman is quick to recognize another gentleman," again 
+interrupted Mr. Thornton; "I am quite satisfied."
+
+He bowed a little ironically; and again Cornelius bent his head in 
+acknowledgment, observing, with a smile beneath which lurked not 
+ungraceful raillery,--
+
+"I am delighted to think you are satisfied, Sir, as there remains for me 
+but to ask a plain question;--there is nothing like plain, direct dealing 
+between gentlemen. I am on my way to town, and somewhat pressed for time. 
+I have called to know whether George Thornton, of Thornton House, will or 
+will not receive his little grand-daughter."
+
+There was no evading a question so distinctly stated. Mr. Thornton looked 
+at me with a darkening brow. "Sir," he morosely replied, "George Thornton 
+had once a daughter of his own, whom he liked after his own way. He took 
+a liking, too, to a young Irish physician, who settled in these parts, 
+and who, I can't help saying it was a very clever fellow, and had, for 
+his years, a wonderful knowledge of chemistry. 'I'll give Margaret to 
+that man,' thought George Thornton; and, whilst he was thinking about it, 
+the Irish physician quietly stole his daughter one evening. George 
+Thornton made no outcry; he simply said he would never forgive either one 
+or the other, and he never did."
+
+"Your daughter's child is innocent," pleaded Cornelius.
+
+"She is her father's child,--and his image, too; but no matter! I believe 
+you are on your way to town, Sir?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, I am."
+
+"And you called--?"
+
+"To leave the child: such was my errand."
+
+"Your errand is fulfilled, Sir; you may leave the child; I shall provide 
+for her."
+
+"The late Doctor Burns has left some property--"
+
+"I will have nothing to do with the property of the late Doctor Burns."
+
+Mr. Thornton was anything but gracious, now; but, without heeding this. 
+Cornelius turned to me; he laid his hand on my head: 
+
+"Good bye! child," he said in a moved tone, "God bless you!"
+
+He turned away; but I clung to him. "Take me with you!" I exclaimed; 
+"take me with you!"
+
+"I cannot, Margaret," gently replied Cornelius, striving to disengage his 
+hand from mine.
+
+"I won't stay here," I cried indignantly.
+
+"You must," he quietly answered.
+
+I dropped his hand, and burst into tears. He looked pained; but his 
+resolve did not alter.
+
+"It cannot be helped," he said. "Good bye! I shall come and see you."
+
+He held out his hand to me; but I felt forsaken and betrayed, and turned 
+away resentfully. He bent over me.
+
+"Will you not bid me good-bye?" he asked.
+
+I flung my arms round his neck; and, sobbing bitterly, I exclaimed, "Oh! 
+why then won't you take me with you?" He did not answer, gave me a quiet 
+kiss, untwined my arms from around his neck, exchanged a formal adieu 
+with my grandfather, and left me as unconcernedly as if, little more than 
+an hour before, he had not taken me in his arms, and cherished me in that 
+lonely garden, where I, so foolishly mistaking pity for fondness, had 
+given him an affection he evidently did not prize, and which, as I now 
+began to feel, had no home save the grave of the dead. 
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ 
+
+When I heard the door close on Cornelius, my tears ceased; they had not 
+moved him; they were useless; it was all over; my fate was fixed. I sat 
+on a chair, drearily looking across the table, at my brown-faced, white-
+bearded grandfather, who raised his voice and called out impatiently, 
+"Polly, Molly. Mary, Thing--where are you?" The little servant-girl 
+answered this indiscriminate appeal by showing her full round face at the 
+door. Mr. Thornton, resting both his hands on the table, slightly bent 
+forward to say impressively, "That young man is never to be let in 
+again,--do you understand?" She assented by nodding her head several 
+times in rapid succession, then closed the door.
+
+"But I will see Mr. O'Reilly," I exclaimed indignantly; for though he had 
+forsaken me, I still looked up to him as to my protector and friend.
+
+Mr. Thornton raised his eyebrows, and gave an ironical grunt. At the same 
+moment the door again opened, and a lady, young, elegantly attired, and 
+beautiful as the princess of a fairy tale, entered the room.
+
+"Uncle," she began, but, on seeing me, she stopped short; then with 
+evident wonder asked briefly. "Who is it?"
+
+"Her name is Burns," was the short reply. The young lady looked at me, 
+and nodded significantly. Mr. Thornton resumed, "I shall provide for her; 
+in the meanwhile tell Mrs. Marks to take care of her, and keep her out of 
+my way, until I have settled how she is to be disposed of." I felt very 
+like a bale of useless goods.
+
+"Then you will have the charity not to keep her here," observed the young 
+lady with impatient bitterness.
+
+"I shall have the charity not to let her become a fine lady like you, 
+Edith," he sarcastically answered.
+
+"Do you mean to make a governess of your grand-daughter, as you would of 
+your niece if you could?"
+
+"My dear, you forget my niece could not be a governess; and neither 
+governess nor fine lady shall be this child, whom you are pleased to call 
+my grand-daughter. A common-place education, some decent occupation,--
+such is to be her destiny. And now be so good as to leave me."
+
+"To your beetles!" she indignantly replied; "you don't care for anything 
+but your beetles. I am sick of my life. I wish I were dead--I wish I had 
+never seen this dreadful old hole."
+
+"Pity you flirted with the intended of your cousin, my dear, and got 
+packed off. Suppose you try and get married; I intend leaving England 
+again, and it will be rather dull for you to stay here alone with Mrs. 
+Marks." 
+
+"I'll run away sooner."
+
+"That's just what I mean. Elope, my dear, elope!" 
+
+"I won't eat any more!" she exclaimed, crimson with vexation and shame; 
+"I know you don't believe it, but I won't."
+
+"Then you'll die; I'll embalm you, and you'll make a lovely young mummy." 
+His little black eyes sparkled as if he rather relished the idea; but it 
+was more than the beautiful Edith could stand, for she burst into tears, 
+and calling her uncle "a barbarous tyrant," was flying out of the room in 
+a rage, when he coolly summoned her back to say, "Edith, take it with 
+you!"
+
+By "it" he meant me. She took my hand and obeyed; her beautiful blue eyes 
+flashing resentfully, her bosom still heaving with indignant grief. But 
+Mr. Thornton, heedless of her anger and sorrow, had resumed his 
+magnifying glass, and was again intent on the beetle. When we both stood 
+on the threshold of the door, Edith turned round to confront him, and 
+said vindictively, "I wish there may never be another beetle,--there!" 
+With this she slammed the door, dropped my hand, turned to her left, and 
+went up an old oak staircase, dimly lit by an iron lamp riveted to the 
+wall. She once looked back to see that I followed her, but took no other 
+notice of me. As she reached a wide landing, she met, coming down, a tall 
+and thin old lady in black.
+
+"Mrs. Marks," she said briefly, "you are to attend to this child."
+
+Without another word or look she continued her ascent. Mrs. Marks looked 
+down at me from the landing, as I stood on the staircase a few steps 
+below her; then up at the light figure of Edith ascending the next 
+flight, and indignantly muttering "that she had never"--the rest did not 
+reach me--she majestically signed me to approach. I obeyed. She eyed me 
+from head to foot, but did not seem much enlightened by the survey. "That 
+is the way up," she said at length, pointing with a long fore-finger to 
+the staircase. The explanation seemed to me a very needless one, but I 
+followed her upstairs silently. We went up until I thought we should 
+never stop, though the ceiling becoming lower with every flight we 
+ascended, indicated that we were approaching the highest regions of the 
+house. I felt tired, but Mrs. Marks went on steadily, as if the tower of 
+Babel would not have daunted her. At length she came to a pause. We had 
+reached a low irregular corridor, that seemed to run round the whole 
+house, and was garnished with numerous doors. Before one of these Mrs. 
+Marks made a dead stop. She unlocked it, held it open by main force, as 
+far as its rusty hinges would allow, then looking round at me, said, 
+emphatically--
+
+"That is the way in."
+
+I hesitated, then slid in; Mrs. Marks slid in after me, then let go the 
+door, which of its own accord closed with a snap, locking us in a small, 
+snug room, with thick curtains, closely drawn, a warm carpet on the 
+floor, a bright fire burning in the grate, a kettle singing on the hob, a 
+cat purring on the hearth rug, a chair of inviting depth awaiting its 
+tenant by the fireside, and near it a small table with tray and tea-
+things.
+
+"Sit down," said Mrs. Marks, pointing to a chair.
+
+I obeyed. She went to the fireplace, and planting herself on the rug, 
+with her hands gathering her skirts in front, and her back to the fire, 
+she thence surveyed me with an attentive stare. Passed from Miss Murray 
+to Cornelius,--from him to Mr. Thornton,--from Mr. Thornton to his 
+niece,--and from her to Mrs. Marks, I felt more apathetic than ever; but 
+Mrs. Marks stood exactly opposite me; I could not help seeing her. She 
+was a gaunt, tall woman, with a pale face and fixed eyes, that made her 
+look like her own portrait. They were eclipsed by a pair of bright black 
+pins, which projected from her cap on either side, and held some 
+mysterious connection with her front. She wore a robe of rusty black, 
+that fitted tight to the figure, and was not over-ample in the skirt. 
+After a long contemplation, she uttered a solemn "I shall see," then left 
+the room. The door snapped after her; I remained alone with the cat, 
+which, like every creature in that house, seemed to care nothing for me, 
+but went on purring with half-shut eyes.
+
+Its mistress soon returned, settled herself in her arm-chair, and thence 
+seemed inclined to survey me again; but the contemplation was disturbed 
+by a tap at the door.
+
+"Come in, Mrs. Digby; don't be afraid of the door," encouragingly said 
+Mrs. Marks.
+
+Mrs. Digby was probably nervous, for she made several feeble attempts to 
+introduce her person,--as suddenly darting back again,--before she 
+gathered sufficient courage to accomplish the delicate operation.
+
+"Gracious! I never saw such a door!" she then observed; "I wonder you can 
+keep such a creature, Mrs. Marks."
+
+"It has its good points," philosophically replied Mrs. Marks; "it is 
+safer than a lock, and, like a dog, won't bite unless you are afraid of 
+it. But if you dally with it, Mrs. Digby, why it may give you a snap!"
+
+"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Digby, looking horrified; "how can you live up 
+here, Mrs. Marks?"
+
+"The rooms below are gloomy, and have no prospect; whereas here I sit by 
+the window, look over the whole grounds, and, if I see anything wrong, I 
+just touch this string,--then a bell rings,--and Richard at the lodge is 
+warned."
+
+"Well," dismally observed Mrs. Digby, "I dare say that is very pleasant; 
+but I have enough of old castles, Mrs. Marks."
+
+"This is not a castle."
+
+"They read like such dear horrid old places, that I was quite delighted 
+when Miss Grainger said to me the other day, 'Digby, we are going to 
+uncle Thornton's!' I did not know they smelt more mouldy than any cheese, 
+and that there was no sleeping with the rats."
+
+"Yes, the little things will trot about, spite of the cat; but then one 
+must live and let live, Mrs. Digby."
+
+"Don't say one must let rats live, Mrs. Marks, don't! they are almost as 
+bad as Mr. Thornton's horrid things,--only they are stuffed."
+
+"Mr. Thornton is a learned man," sententiously replied Mrs. Marks; "but I 
+do think he gives so much attention to natural history and entomology. 
+Mr. Marks thought nothing of entomology, he was all for chemistry; that's 
+the science, Mrs. Digby!"
+
+"Didn't it blow him up?"
+
+"Blow him up! Was Mr. Marks a gunpowder-mill, Mrs. Digby? He perished in 
+making a scientific experiment; you will, I trust, soon learn the 
+difference. A man of Mr. Thornton's immense mind cannot but sicken of 
+entomology, and return to chemistry. You will not see much, but you will 
+hear reports--"
+
+"Gracious!" interrupted Mrs. Digby, with an alarmed air, "I wish I were 
+out of the place."
+
+"Then help your handsome young lady to get a husband," sneered Mrs. Marks 
+from the depths of her arm-chair.
+
+"If Miss Grainger had my spirit," loftily replied Mrs. Digby, "she would 
+now be a countess of the realm, Mrs. Marks; and if she had been guided by 
+me, she would at least be the wife of the handsomest gentleman I ever 
+saw."
+
+"Edward Thornton! the heir-at-law! Pooh! Mrs. Digby! he has not a penny, 
+and Mr. Thornton won't die just yet."
+
+"He is very handsome," spiritedly returned Mrs. Digby; "but, as I said, 
+if Miss Grainger will put herself in the hands of Mrs. Brand, why she 
+must bear with the consequences, Mrs. Marks."
+
+So saying, Mrs. Digby for the first time turned towards me. She was a 
+thin, fair, faded woman, attired in a light blue dress, which, like its 
+wearer, was rather _pass?e_. She sat by the table, with the tip of her 
+elbow resting on the edge; drooping in a graceful willow-like attitude, 
+she raised a tortoise-shell eye-glass to her eyes, examined me through 
+it, then dropping it with lady-like grace, sighed forth--
+
+"How do you feel, darling?"
+
+I was proud, more proud than shy; I resented being left to the 
+subordinates of my grandfather's household, and did not choose to answer. 
+Mrs. Marks spared me the trouble.
+
+"You might as well talk to the cat, Mrs. Digby. Children," she added, 
+giving me an impressive look of her dull eyes, "are, up to a certain age, 
+little animal creatures: they have speech, sensation, but neither thought 
+nor feeling. Mr. Marks and I would never have anything to do with them." 
+
+"Oh! Mrs. Marks! a baby?" 
+
+"Have you ever had one?"
+
+Mrs. Digby reddened, and asked for an explanation. Mrs. Marks asked to 
+know if there had not been a Mr. Digby? No. But there might have been a 
+Mr. Wilkinson, two Messrs. Jones--Mr. Thompson was coming on, and Mr. 
+John Smith was looming in the distance, when Mrs. Marks interrupted the 
+series by pouring out the tea. I sat between the two ladies, but I ate 
+nothing.
+
+"That child won't live," observed Mrs. Marks at the close of her own 
+hearty meal; "she is a puny thing for her age; besides it is not natural 
+in such an essentially physical creature as a child not to eat; why don't 
+you eat, Anna?"
+
+I looked at her and spoke for the first time: "My name is not Anna."
+
+"What is your name, then?--your Christian name, by which I am to call 
+you?" 
+
+I did not relish the prospect of being called by my Christian name, for, 
+as I have already said, I was a proud child, so I did not reply.
+
+"Unable to answer a plain question!" observed Mrs. Marks, bespeaking the 
+attention of Mrs. Digby with her raised forefinger; "does not know its 
+own name!" 
+
+"My name is Miss Burns," I said indignantly. 
+
+"Does not know the difference between a surname and a Christian name!" 
+continued Mrs. Marks, commenting on my obtuseness. "Come," she charitably 
+added, to aid the efforts of my infant mind, "are we to call you Jane, 
+Louisa, Mary Lucy, Alice?"
+
+I remained silent.
+
+"This looks like obstinacy," remarked Mrs. Marks, in a tone of discovery. 
+"Let us reason like rational beings," she added, forgetting I was only a 
+little animal: "if I don't know your Christian name, how am I to call 
+you?"
+
+"Sarah never called me by my Christian name," I bluntly replied.
+
+"Miss Burns," solemnly inquired Mrs. Marks, "do you mean to establish a 
+parallel? May I know who and what you take me for?"
+
+"You are the housekeeper," I answered. 
+
+Alas! why has the plain truth the power of offending so many people 
+besides Mrs. Marks, and who, like her, too, scorn to attribute their 
+wrath to its true cause?
+
+"You have been asked for your Christian name," she said, irefully; "with 
+unparalleled obstinacy you have refused to tell it; you shall be called 
+Burns, and go to bed at once."
+
+The sentence was immediately carried into effect; I was taken to the next 
+room, undressed, and hoisted up into the tall four-posted bedstead which 
+nightly received Mrs Marks, and left there to darkness and my 
+reflections. But no punishment from those I did not love ever had 
+affected me. I was soon fast asleep.
+
+Memory is a succession of vivid pictures and sudden blanks. I remember my 
+first evening at Thornton House more distinctly than the incidents of 
+last week, but the days that followed it are wrapt in a dim mist. But 
+much that then seemed mysterious on account of my ignorance, I have since 
+learned to understand.
+
+My grandfather was a country gentleman of good family, but of eccentric 
+character. He had from a youth devoted himself to science, and renounced 
+the world. I believe he knew and studied everything, but his learning led 
+to no result, save that of diminishing a fortune which had never been 
+very ample, and of burdening still more heavily his encumbered estate. I 
+have often thought what a dull life my poor mother must have led with him 
+in that gloomy old house, and I can scarcely wonder that, when a man, 
+young, amiable, and rather good-looking than plain, was imprudently 
+thrown in her way, she knew not how to resist the temptation of love and 
+liberty. 
+
+Mr. Thornton never forgave them. Soon after the elopement of his daughter 
+he went abroad on some scientific errand, leaving his property to the 
+care of lawyers, and his house to Mrs. Marks, the widow of a scientific 
+man, whom he had taken for his housekeeper. He returned to Leigh about 
+the time of my father's death, unaltered in temper or feelings. Wrapt in 
+his books and studies, he went nowhere and saw no one. Fate having chosen 
+to burden him with two feminine guests--his niece and myself--he did his 
+best to elude the penalty, by keeping away from us both.
+
+Miss Grainger's sojourn at Thornton House was caused by an indiscretion, 
+in which beautiful young ladies will sometimes indulge. She had chosen to 
+divert from the plain daughter of an aunt, with whom she resided, the 
+affections of her betrothed; who was also my grandfather's heir. Edward 
+Thornton lost his intended and her ten thousand pounds, and the beautiful 
+Edith exchanged a luxurious abode and fashionable life for Thornton House 
+and the society of her uncle. A rose and an owl would have been as well 
+matched. Mr. Thornton shunned his niece with all his might; and, not 
+being able to forgive her the sin of her birth, he saw still less of his 
+grand-daughter.
+
+A room near that of Mrs. Marks was fitted up for me. There I spent my 
+days, occasionally enlivened by the sound of her alarum-bell; my old 
+books and playthings my only company. Even childish errors win their 
+retribution. I had been an exclusive, unsociable child, caring but for 
+one being, and contemning every other affection and companionship; no one 
+now cared for me. Miss Murray sent me my things, and troubled herself 
+about nothing else; my grandfather I never saw; his niece came not near 
+me; Mrs. Digby imitated her mistress. I was left to Mrs. Marks; she might 
+have been negligent and tyrannical with utter impunity; but though she 
+still considered me in the light of a little animal, and persisted in 
+calling me "Burns," she did her duty by me.
+
+My wants were attended to; but that was all; I was left to myself, to 
+solitude and liberty. I was again sickly and languid. To go up and down 
+stairs, to play in the court, wander in the grounds, or walk in the wild 
+and neglected garden behind the house, were exertions beyond my strength. 
+I remained in my room, a voluntary captive, satisfied with looking out of 
+the window. It commanded the grounds below, a green and wild desert, with 
+a bright stream gliding through, and looked beyond them over a soft and 
+fertile tract of country bounded by a waving line of low hills, which 
+opened to afford, as in a vision, a sudden view of some glorious world,--
+a glimpse of blending sea and heaven, limited, yet giving that sense of 
+the infinite, for which the mind ever longs and which the eye ever seeks.
+
+I sat at that window for hours daily, and grew not wearied of gazing. The 
+sea, glittering as glass in sunshine, of the deepest blue in shadow, dark 
+and sullen, or white with foam in tempest; the mellow and pastoral look 
+of the distant country; the varied beauty of the park, with its ancient 
+trees, woodland aspect, and bounding deer; the high grass below, suddenly 
+swept down by the strong wind, and ever rising again; the slow and 
+stately clouds that passed on in the blue air above me, with a sense, 
+motion, and in a region of their own, were not, however, the objects that 
+attracted me so irresistibly.
+
+The avenue stretching beneath my gaze, with its dark and stately trees, 
+under which cool shadows ever lingered, and the grass-grown path lit up 
+by gliding sunbeams, had my first and last look. Untaught by 
+disappointment, I kept watching for Cornelius O'Reilly. My plans were 
+laid, and I one day tested their practicability. Deceived by a strong 
+resemblance in height and figure, I slipped down, unlocked a side-door 
+which nobody minded, and thus admitted into Thornton House a handsome 
+fashionable-looking man, who seemed surprised, and asked for Miss 
+Grainger. I stole away without answering. The same evening Mrs. Marks 
+called me to her presence. She sat down, and made me stand before her. 
+"Burns," she said, "was it you who let in young Mr. Thornton by the side-
+door?"
+
+"Yes," I replied, unhesitatingly.
+
+"Who told you to do so?"
+
+"No one; I did it out of my own head."
+
+"You did it on purpose?"
+
+"Yes, I saw him coming, and went down."
+
+Mrs. Marks looked astounded.
+
+"Burns! what could be your motive?"
+
+I remained mute, though the question was put under every variety of 
+shape.
+
+"Unfortunate little creature!" observed Mrs. Marks, whose dull eyes 
+beamed compassion on me, "it does not know the nature of its own blind 
+impulses."
+
+Thanks to this charitable conclusion, I escaped punishment; but on the 
+following day I found the side-door secured by a high bolt beyond my 
+reach. I did not, however, give up the point. A wicket-gate opened from 
+the garden on the grounds, and commanded a side view of the avenue; 
+there, every fine day, I took my post, still vainly hoping for the coming 
+of Cornelius.
+
+It was thus I sometimes saw my cousin Edith. Her great loveliness and 
+rich attire impressed me strongly. Her room was below mine. I daily heard 
+her, like a fair lady in her bower, playing on her lute, or warbling 
+sweet songs; she was the beauty and enchanted princess of all my fairy 
+tales; yet, when we met, the only notice she took of me was a cold and 
+gentle "How are you, dear?" the reply to which she never stopped to hear. 
+She generally walked with Mrs. Digby, who, drawing her attention to my 
+evident admiration, never failed to observe as they passed by me, "The 
+child can't take her eyes off you, Ma'am." "Hush! Digby," invariably 
+replied the fair Edith, in a tone implying that she disapproved of the 
+liberty, although the sweetness of her disposition induced her to forgive 
+it. Mrs. Digby, however, persisted in repeating her offence, even when I 
+was not looking, and was always checked with the same gentleness.
+
+One day, when I came down, I found Miss Grainger no longer in the company 
+of Mrs. Digby, but sitting in an arbour with a fair and fashionable lady 
+of thirty, or so, whom she called Bertha, and who, after eyeing me 
+through her gold eye-glass, impressively observed, as, without noticing 
+them, I took my usual place: "Edith, such are the consequences of love-
+matches! Mr. Langton--"
+
+"But he is so old, Bertha," interrupted Edith, pouting.
+
+"So I thought of Mr. Brand, when I married him; but it is not generous to 
+be always thinking of age. Ah! love is very selfish, Edith."
+
+Miss Grainger raised her handkerchief to her eyes.
+
+"My dearest girl," said the lady, "be generous; be unselfish. Mr. Langton 
+will be so kind--he has the means, you know,--and poor Edward--poor in 
+every sense--can only--Edward, what brought you here?"
+
+She addressed the same young man whom I had admitted, and who had now 
+suddenly stepped from behind the arbour where the two ladies sat. He gave 
+the speaker an angry look, and taking the hand of my cousin, he hastily 
+led her away down one of the garden paths, talking earnestly. The lady 
+bit her lip, followed them with a provoked glance, and stood waiting 
+their return. She had to wait some time. At length young Mr. Thornton 
+appeared; he looked pale, desperate, strode past the lady, opened the 
+gate by which I stood, entered the grounds, leaped over a fence, and 
+vanished. Edith came up more slowly. She was crying, and looked 
+frightened. The lady went up to her.
+
+"Well!" she said, eagerly.
+
+"Edward says he'll kill himself!" sobbed Edith.
+
+"My dear," sighed her friend, "Arthur said so too when we parted. He is 
+alive still. I am Edward's sister, and yet, you see, I am quite easy. Do 
+not fret, dear. You must come with me to the Mitfords this evening."
+
+"I can't, Bertha."
+
+"My dearest girl, you must. It is extremely selfish to brood over 
+sorrow."
+
+With this she kissed her, and they entered the house together.
+
+"Burns, come in to dinner," said the voice of Mrs. Marks, addressing me 
+from the arched doorway.
+
+I obeyed, and, for some unexplained reason, was consigned to my room 
+during the rest of the day, which I spent by the window, still watching 
+for my friend with a patient persistent hope that would not be conquered. 
+I was so absorbed that I never heard Mrs. Marks enter, until she said, 
+close behind me, "Burns, what are you always looking out of that window 
+for?"
+
+Before I could reply, a sharp voice inquired from the corridor:
+
+"Mrs. Marks, who is it I have twice this day heard you addressing by the 
+extraordinary name of Burns?"
+
+We both looked round. Mrs. Marks had left my door open; exactly opposite 
+it stood a ladder leading to a trap-door in the roof of the house, 
+through which Mr. Thornton, who had gone to survey the progress of an 
+observatory he was causing to be erected there, now appeared descending.
+
+"That child won't tell her other name, Sir," replied Mrs. Marks, 
+reddening.
+
+"Do you know it?"
+
+"She won't tell it, Sir."
+
+My grandfather fastened his keen black eyes full on me, and signed me to 
+approach. He stood on the last step of the ladder. I went up to him; he 
+gave my head a quick survey, then suddenly fixed the tip of his 
+forefinger somewhere towards the summit, and exclaimed, in a tone that 
+showed he had settled the bump and the question: "Firmness large; 
+secretiveness too; but good moral and intellectual development. What is 
+your name?"
+
+"Margaret," I replied, unhesitatingly.
+
+Margaret had been my mother's name. Mr. Thornton turned away at once.
+
+"Margaret, go back to your room," shortly said Mrs. Marks.
+
+Mr. Thornton was descending the staircase. He stopped to turn round, and 
+observed, with great emphasis, "Miss Margaret, will you please to go back 
+to your room?"
+
+He went down without uttering another word.
+
+Mrs. Marks became scarlet; and, declaring that she was not going to Miss 
+Margaret any one, she retired to her own apartment in high dudgeon. I 
+thought to spend this autumn evening, as usual, in the companionship of 
+lamp, fire, books, and toys; but scarcely had Mrs. Marks brought me my 
+light, and retired again, when Miss Grainger entered.
+
+Was it tardy pity? Had my grandfather spoken to her? or had she come, 
+like the fairy godmother of poor forlorn Cinderella, to visit me in all 
+her splendour, and fill my room with a fleeting vision of elegance and 
+beauty? Her tears had ceased, her sorrow was over; she was evidently 
+going out for the evening: and she looked triumphant, like a long-captive 
+princess emerging from her enchanted tower. Her dark ringlets fell on 
+shoulders of ivory; her bright blue eyes sparkled with joy; the sweetest 
+of smiles played on her enchanting face. A robe of rose-coloured silk 
+fell to her feet in rustling folds; strings of pearls were wreathed in 
+her hair, encircled her neck, and clasped her white arms. I gazed on her, 
+mute with wonder and admiration. She looked gracious; but I ventured to 
+touch her! She drew back with extreme alarm, glanced at her robe, and 
+gently extending her hands before her person, to keep me at a safe 
+distance, she smiled sweetly at me, with--"Yes, I know; good night, 
+dear."
+
+With this she vanished.
+
+Why did she leave me far more chill and lonely than she had found me? Why 
+did I remember the tender caresses of my dead father, and the embrace of 
+Cornelius in the garden, and feel very dreary and desolate? Providence 
+often answers our feelings and our thoughts in a manner that is both 
+touching and strange. Ere long the door again opened; I looked up, and 
+saw--Cornelius O'Reilly.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ 
+
+What between surprise and joy, I could neither move nor speak. When the 
+young man closed the door, came up to me, sat down by me, and, with a 
+kiss, asked cheerfully, "Well, Margaret, how are you?" I hid my face on 
+his shoulder, and began to cry. But he made me look up, and said with 
+concern, "How pale and thin you are, child!--are you ill?"
+
+"No," I answered, astonished.
+
+Cornelius looked around him, at the fire with the guard, at the table 
+with my books and playthings, at me; then observed, "Why are you alone?"
+
+"I am always alone."
+
+"Does no one come near you?"
+
+"No one."
+
+"Does your grandfather never send for you?"
+
+"Oh no!"
+
+"Who takes care of you?"
+
+"Mrs. Marks, the housekeeper."
+
+"Do you never leave this room?"
+
+"I can go down if I like; but it tires me."
+
+"Poor little thing! how do you spend your time?"
+
+"In the daytime I look out of the window; in the evening I play by 
+myself."
+
+"Have you no children to play with?"
+
+"No, none."
+
+"And what do you learn?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing!" he echoed.
+
+"Yes, nothing."
+
+"Have you no lessons?"
+
+"No; Mrs. Marks says, that, as I can read well, and write a little, it is 
+enough."
+
+"Enough!" indignantly exclaimed Cornelius; but he checked himself to 
+observe, "Mrs. Marks knows nothing about it; a good education is the 
+least Mr. Thornton can give his grand-daughter."
+
+He was not questioning me; but I looked at him, and said, bluntly, "I am 
+to get a common-place education; I am not to be a lady."
+
+"Who says so?" indignantly asked Cornelius.
+
+"Mr. Thornton."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"He said it, before me, to Miss Grainger. He said I was to be neither a 
+governess nor a lady; and that a common-place education, and some decent 
+occupation, were to be my destiny." The words had stung me to the quick 
+at the time, and had never been forgotten. As I repeated them, the blood 
+rushed up to the face of Cornelius O'Reilly; his look lit; his lip 
+trembled with all the quickness of emotion of his race.
+
+"But you shall be a lady," he exclaimed, with rapid warmth. "Your father, 
+who was an Irish gentleman born and bred, gave me the education of a 
+gentleman; and I will give you the education of a lady,--so help me God!"
+
+He drew and pressed me to him. I looked up at him, and said, "I should 
+not take up much room." He seemed surprised at the observation.
+
+I continued--"And Mrs. Marks says I eat so little." Cornelius looked 
+perplexed.
+
+"Will you take me with you?" I asked earnestly.
+
+Cornelius drew in a long breath.
+
+"You are an odd child!" he said.
+
+I passed my arms around his neck, and asked again, "Will you take me with 
+you?"
+
+"Why do you want me to take you?"
+
+I hung down my head, and did not answer. The strange unconquerable 
+shyness of childhood was on me, and rendered me tongue-tied. Cornelius 
+gently raised my face, so that it met his look, and smiled at seeing it 
+grow hot and flushed beneath his gaze.
+
+"Do you really want me to take you?" he asked, after a pause.
+
+I looked up quickly; I said nothing; but if childhood has no words to 
+render its feelings, it has eloquent looks easily read. Cornelius was at 
+no loss to understand the meaning of mine.
+
+"Indeed, then, if I can I will," he replied earnestly.
+
+"Oh! we can get out by the back-door," I said, quickly.
+
+"My dear," answered Cornelius, gravely, "never leave a house by the back-
+door, unless in case of fire; besides, it would look like an elopement. 
+We must speak to Mr. Thornton."
+
+I could not see the necessity of this; but I submitted to his decision, 
+and, taking his hand, I accompanied him downstairs. No stray domestic was 
+visible, not even the little servant appeared. Cornelius looked around 
+him, then resolutely knocked at the door of my grandfather's study. A 
+sharp "Come in!" authorized us to enter. This time Mr. Thornton had 
+exchanged the magnifying glass and the beetle for a pair of compasses and 
+an immense map which covered the whole table. He looked up; and, on 
+perceiving Cornelius, exclaimed, with a ludicrous expression of dismay, 
+"Sir, have you brought me another little girl?"
+
+"No, Sir," replied Cornelius smiling; "this is the same."
+
+"Oh! the same, is it?"
+
+"No; not quite the same," resumed Cornelius; "the child, whom I left here 
+a month ago, is strangely altered; question her yourself, Sir, and 
+ascertain the manner in which, without your wish or knowledge, I feel 
+assured, your grand-daughter has been treated in your house."
+
+My grandfather gave the young man a sharp look, and his brown face 
+darkened in meaning if not in hue.
+
+"Come here," he said, addressing me; "and remember, that, though you have 
+large secretiveness, I must have the truth."
+
+I looked at Cornelius; he nodded; I went up to Mr. Thornton, who looked 
+keenly at my face, and, as if something there suggested the question, 
+abruptly asked, "Do you get enough to eat?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Why don't you eat, then?"
+
+"But I do eat."
+
+"Why does Mrs. Marks strike you?"
+
+"She never strikes me," I replied indignantly.
+
+"But why does she ill-use you?"
+
+"She does not ill-use me; she dare not."
+
+Mr. Thornton looked at Cornelius with ironical triumph. The young man 
+seemed disgusted, and said warmly, "I never meant, sir, that Margaret 
+Burns was a starved, ill-used child. Heaven forbid! But I meant to say 
+that she is left to solitude, idleness, and disgraceful ignorance."
+
+"Upon my word, Mr. O'Reilly," observed Mr. Thornton, pushing away his 
+map, as if to survey Cornelius better,--"upon my word, you meddle in my 
+family arrangements with praiseworthy coolness."
+
+"Mr. Thornton," replied Cornelius, not a whit disconcerted, and looking 
+at him very calmly, "I brought the child to you; this gives me a right to 
+interfere, which you have yourself acknowledged by not checking me at 
+once."
+
+Mr. Thornton gave him an odd look, then grunted a sort of assent, looked 
+at his map, and said impatiently--
+
+"Granted; but not that the child is not treated as she ought to be. 
+Still, within reasonable bounds, she shall be judge in her own case. Do 
+you hear?" he added, turning towards me, "if you want for anything, say 
+so, and you shall get it." 
+
+"I want to go away," I said at once.
+
+"Very well; I shall send you to school."
+
+"But I want to go with Mr. O'Reilly."
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly is welcome to you," sarcastically replied my grandfather; 
+"he may take you, drop you on the way, do what he likes with you--if he 
+chooses to have you!" I ran to Cornelius.
+
+"Shall I get ready?" I asked eagerly.
+
+"My dear," he gently replied, "Mr. Thornton means to send you to school, 
+where you will learn many things."
+
+"She will not be troubled with much learning," drily observed Mr. 
+Thornton.
+
+"Surely, Sir," remonstrated Cornelius, "the poor child is to be 
+educated?"
+
+"Sir, she is not to be a fine lady."
+
+"Allow me to observe--"
+
+"Sir, I will allow you to take her away and do what you like with her; 
+but not to observe."
+
+"I take you at your word," warmly replied Cornelius, on whom Mr. Thornton 
+bestowed an astonished look; "take her I will, and educate her too. It 
+would be strange if I could not do for her father's child what that 
+father did for me! I thank you, Sir, for that which brought me here, but 
+which I scarcely knew how to ask for."
+
+My grandfather looked at me, and made an odd grimace, as if not 
+considering me a particularly valuable present. Still, and though taken 
+at his word, he seemed scarcely pleased.
+
+"Well," he said at length, "be it so. I certainly do not care much about 
+the child myself, not being able to forget where that face of hers came 
+from--you do; you want to make a penniless lady of her; she wants to go 
+with you: have both your wish. If she should prove troublesome or in the 
+way, send her back to me, or, in my absence, to Mrs. Marks. You 
+distinctly understand that I am willing to provide for her; though, I 
+suppose," he added, looking at Cornelius, "I must not propose--"
+
+"No, Sir," gravely interrupted the young man.
+
+"Very well; provide for her too, since such is your fancy. Take her; you 
+are welcome to her."
+
+And thus it was decided; and in less than a quarter of an hour we had not 
+only left Thornton House, but the surly porter at the lodge had closed 
+his iron gates upon us, and we were on our way to Ryde, whence Cornelius 
+wished to proceed to London, straight on, that same evening.
+
+After walking on for awhile in utter silence, Cornelius said to me--
+
+"Are you tired. Margaret?"
+
+"Oh no!" I answered eagerly.
+
+Indeed the question seemed to take away my sense of fatigue. For some 
+time, the fear of being left behind lent me fictitious strength; but at 
+length my sore and weary feet could carry me no further; in the wildest 
+and most desolate part of the road I was obliged to stop short.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Cornelius.
+
+"I can't go on," I replied, despondingly.
+
+"Can't you, indeed?"
+
+"No," I said, sitting down on a milestone, and feeling ready to cry, "I 
+can't at all."
+
+"Well, then, if you can't at all," coolly observed Cornelius, "I must 
+carry you."
+
+"I am very heavy!" I objected, astonished at the suggestion.
+
+He laughed, and attempted to lift me up, but I resisted.
+
+"Oh! it will fatigue you so!" I said.
+
+"No, nature has given me such extraordinary strength that I can bear 
+without fatigue burdens--like you, for instance--beneath which other men 
+would sink."
+
+He raised me with an ease that justified his assertion. I clasped my arms 
+around his neck, rested my head on his shoulder, and feeling how firm and 
+secure was his hold, I yielded with a pleasurable sensation to a mode of 
+conveyance which I found both novel and luxurious. I could not however 
+help asking once, with lingering uneasiness, "If he did not feel tired?"
+
+"No; strange to say, and heavy as you are, I do not: but why do you 
+shiver? Are you cold?"
+
+"No, thank you," I replied, but my teeth chattered as I spoke.
+
+"I hope it is nothing worse than cold," uneasily observed Cornelius, 
+stopping short; "undo the clasp of my cloak, and bring it around you."
+
+I obeyed; he helped to wrap me up in the warm and ample folds, and we 
+resumed our journey, a moment interrupted. He walked fast; we soon 
+reached Ryde; but he would not let me come to light until we were safely 
+housed. I heard a staid voice observing--
+
+"Your carpet-bag. I presume, Sir. It will be quite safe here."
+
+"It is not a carpet-bag," replied Cornelius, unwrapping me, and 
+depositing me in a small ill-lit back parlour, with a grim landlady 
+looking on.
+
+"Your carpet-bag will be quite safe here," she resumed.
+
+"I have none." She looked aghast. A little girl, and no carpet-bag!
+
+"Yours, Sir, I presume?" she steadily observed.
+
+"Mine!" echoed Cornelius, reddening, "no."
+
+"Your sister, I presume, Sir?" persisted the landlady.
+
+"She is no relative," he shortly answered; then, without heeding her, he 
+felt my forehead, took my hand, said both were burning; looked at his 
+watch, pondered, and finally startled the landlady--who had remained in 
+the room taciturn and suspicious--with the abrupt query--
+
+"Is there a medical man about here, Ma'am?"
+
+"There is Mr. Wood."
+
+"Be so kind as to send for him; I fear this child is ill."
+
+She looked mistrustful, but complied with the request, and in about ten 
+minutes returned with a sleek little man in black, who bowed himself into 
+the room, peeped at my tongue, held my wrist delicately suspended between 
+his thumb and forefinger, then for the space of a minute looked intently 
+at the ceiling, with his right eye firmly shut, and his tongue shrewdly 
+screwed in the left corner of his mouth. At length he dropped my hand, 
+opened his eye, put in his tongue, and gravely said:
+
+"The young lady is only a little feverish."
+
+"You are quite sure it is nothing worse?" observed Cornelius, seeming 
+much relieved.
+
+"Quite sure," decisively replied Mr. Wood; "but concerning the young 
+lady--not your daughter, Sir?"
+
+"No!" was the indignant answer.
+
+"Concerning this young lady," placidly resumed Mr. Wood, "I wish to 
+observe that she is of an excitable temperament, requiring--Not your 
+sister?" he added, again breaking off into an inquiry.
+
+"No, Sir," impatiently replied Cornelius.
+
+"Of an excitable temperament, requiring gentle exercise, indulgence, 
+little study, and none of those violent emotions," (here he held up his 
+forefinger in solemn warning,) "none of those violent emotions which sap 
+the springs of life in the youthful being. Not your ward?" he observed, 
+with another negative inquiry.
+
+"No!--Yes!" hesitatingly said Cornelius.
+
+"In the youthful being--" again began Mr. Wood.
+
+"Excuse me, Sir," impatiently interrupted Cornelius, "but the coach will 
+soon pass by; is there anything that can be done for the child?"
+
+"Yes, Sir," drily answered Mr. Wood, "there are several things to be done 
+for the young lady; the first is to put her to bed directly."
+
+"To bed?" uneasily said Cornelius.
+
+"Directly. The second, to administer a sedative draught, that will make 
+her spend the night in a state of deep repose."
+
+"Then we must actually sleep here?"
+
+"Of deep repose. The third is not to attempt moving her for the next 
+twelve hours."
+
+"Remember, Sir, you said it was only feverishness."
+
+"It is nothing more _now_," replied the inexorable Mr. Wood, in a tone 
+threatening anything from scarlatina to typhus if his directions were 
+disregarded. Cornelius sighed, submitted, asked for the sedative draught, 
+and consigned me to the care of the grim landlady.
+
+I allowed her to undress me and put me to bed in a dull little room 
+upstairs; but when she attempted to make me take the sedative, duly sent 
+round by Mr. Wood, I buried my face in the pillow. Though she said 
+"Miss!" in a most threatening accent, she could not conquer my mute 
+obstinacy. She departed in great indignation.
+
+Soon after she had left, the door opened, and Cornelius entered. He 
+looked grave. I prepared for a lecture, but he only sat down by me and 
+said very gently, "Margaret, why will you not drink the sedative?"
+
+I did not answer. He tasted the beverage, then said earnestly, "It is not 
+unpleasant; try."
+
+He wanted to approach the cup to my lips, but I turned away, and said 
+with some emotion, "I don't want to sleep."
+
+"Why so, child?"
+
+"Because I shall not wake up in time; you will go away and leave me."
+
+"Margaret, why should I leave you?"
+
+"Because you don't like me as Papa did; you do not care about me," I 
+replied, a little excitedly; for I was now quite conscious that the 
+affection was all on my side.
+
+He looked surprised at the reproach and all it implied, and to my 
+mortification he also looked amused. I turned my face to the wall; he 
+bent over me and saw that my eyes were full of tears.
+
+"Crying!" he said chidingly.
+
+"You laugh at me," I replied indignantly.
+
+"Which is a shame," he answered, vainly striving to repress a smile; "but 
+whether or not, Margaret, you must oblige me by drinking this."
+
+He spoke authoritatively. I yielded, and took the cup from him; but in so 
+doing I gave him a look which must have been rather appealing, for he 
+said with some warmth, "On my word, child, I shall not leave you behind. 
+Why, I would as soon give up a pet lamb to the butcher as let you go back 
+to Thornton House,--or turn out a poor unfledged bird from the nest as 
+forsake a helpless little creature like you."
+
+I drank at once. To reward my obedience, Cornelius said he would stay 
+with me until I had fallen asleep. I tried to delay the moment as long as 
+I could, but, conquered by a power mightier than my will, I was gradually 
+compelled to yield. I remember the amused smile of the young man at my 
+unavailing efforts to keep my eyes open and fixed on his face; then 
+follows a sudden blank and darkness, into which even he has vanished.
+
+I awoke the next morning cool, well, and free from fever. The landlady 
+dressed me in surly silence, then led me down to the little parlour, 
+where I found Cornelius reading the newspaper by the breakfast table. He 
+seemed much pleased to find that the fever had left me, and observed with 
+a smile, "Well, Margaret, did I run away?"
+
+I hung down my head ashamed.
+
+"Why, my poor child," he added, drawing me towards him, "I should be a 
+perfect savage to dream of such a thing; besides, how ungallant to go and 
+desert a lady in distress! Never more could Cornelius O'Reilly--a 
+disgrace to his name and country--show his face after so dark a deed."
+
+He was laughing at me again; I did not mind it now; but as the grim 
+landlady, who had lingered by, looked mystified, Cornelius amused himself 
+by treating me with the most attentive and fastidious politeness during 
+the whole of breakfast-time. To complete her satisfaction, and to make up 
+for the missing carpet-bag, she was edified by the arrival of Miss 
+Burns's luggage from Thornton House.
+
+We left early. We rode outside the stage-coach. It was a fine autumn day, 
+and the journey was pleasant until evening came on; Cornelius then drew 
+me closer to him, and shared with me the folds of his ample cloak. The 
+unusual warmth and motion soon sent me to sleep. Once or twice I woke to 
+the momentary consciousness of a starlight night, and trees and houses 
+rapidly passing before me; but after this all was darkness; the cloak had 
+shrouded me completely. I merely opened my eyes to close them again and 
+fall asleep, with my head resting against Cornelius, and his arm passed 
+around me to save me from falling.
+
+I have a vague remembrance of reaching a large and noisy city, of leaving 
+the stage-coach to enter a cab, where I again fell fast to sleep, and at 
+length of awaking with a start, as Cornelius said, "Margaret, we are at 
+home."
+
+The cab had stopped; Cornelius had got out; he lifted me down even as he 
+spoke, and the cab rolled away along the lonely lane in which we stood.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ 
+
+I felt a little bewildered. The night and the spot were both dark; all I 
+could see was a low garden-wall, half lost in the shadow of a few tall 
+trees, and a narrow wooden door. The gleam of light that appeared through 
+the chinks, and the sound of a quick step on the gravel within, spared 
+Cornelius the trouble of ringing. The door opened of its own accord, and 
+on the threshold appeared a lady in black, holding a low lamp in her 
+right hand. We entered; she closed the door upon us, and, almost 
+immediately, flung the arm that was free around the neck of Cornelius.
+
+"God bless you!" she exclaimed eagerly, and speaking in a warm ardent 
+tone, that sounded like a gentle echo of his; "God bless you! I have been 
+so wretched!"
+
+"Did you not get my letter?"
+
+"Yes, but I had such a dream!"
+
+"A dream! Oh Kate!" he spoke with jesting reproach, but pausing in the 
+path, he stooped and kissed his sister several times, each time more 
+tenderly.
+
+"How is the child? Where is she?" asked Miss O'Reilly.
+
+"She is here, and well. By the bye, I have left her little property 
+outside."
+
+"Deborah shall fetch it. Take her in."
+
+We were entering the house, which stood at the end of the garden.
+
+"This way, Margaret," said Cornelius, leading me into a small, but 
+comfortable and elegant-looking parlour, which took my fancy at once. The 
+furniture, though simple, was both good and handsome; the walls were 
+adorned with a few pictures and engravings in gilt frames; a well-filled 
+book-case faced the rosewood piano; a large table, covered with books, 
+occupied the centre of the room, and a stand of splendid flowers stood in 
+the deep bow-window.
+
+"Well!" carelessly said Miss O'Reilly, who had followed us in almost 
+immediately, "where is that little Sassenach girl?"
+
+"Here she is, Kate," replied Cornelius, leading me to his sister; he 
+stood behind me, his hand lightly resting on my shoulder, and looking at 
+her, I felt sure, for, in the stoic sadness of her gaze, there was 
+something of a glance returned. She lowered the light, gave me a cursory 
+look, put by the lamp, and sat down on a low chair by the fire, on which 
+she kept her eyes intently fixed.
+
+Miss O'Reilly was very like her brother, and almost as good-looking, 
+though at least ten or twelve years older. She was fresh as a rose, and 
+had the dark hair, finely arched eyebrows, clear hazel eyes, and handsome 
+features of Cornelius; but the expression of countenance was different. 
+It was as decided, but more calm; as kind, but scarcely as good-humoured. 
+She was very simply attired in black; her glossy and luxuriant hair was 
+braided, and fastened at the back of her head with jet pins; jet 
+bracelets clasped her wrists. As she sat leaning back in her chair, her 
+hands clasped on her knees, even that simple attire and careless attitude 
+could not disguise the elegant symmetry of her figure; her hands were 
+small and perfect.
+
+"Well!" said Cornelius in a low tone.
+
+"Well!" replied his sister, smiling at the fire with sorrowful triumph in 
+her clear eyes; "she is like her father; she has his eyes; pity she has 
+not his hair, instead of those pale and sickly flaxen locks. Come here, 
+little thing," she added, looking up at me, and holding out her hand.
+
+I hesitated.
+
+"She is very shy, Kate," said Cornelius.
+
+"I shall cure her of her shyness. Come here, Midge."
+
+I obeyed, and took her extended hand. She had the open, direct manner of 
+which children are quick to feel the power; her likeness to her brother 
+made me more communicative than I usually was with strangers.
+
+"My name is not Midge," I said to her.
+
+"Then it ought to have been, you mite of a thing!"
+
+"My name is Margaret; it was Mamma's name."
+
+Miss O'Reilly dropped my hand, and rose somewhat abruptly. Then she took 
+my hand again and said calmly--
+
+"Come, child, you look dusty and tired, after your journey."
+
+She led me upstairs to a cheerful-looking bed-room, where she unpacked my 
+wardrobe, and changed my whole attire, with a prompt dexterity that 
+seemed natural to her. When we returned to the parlour we found Cornelius 
+lying at full length on a sofa drawn before the hearth; a dark cushion 
+pillowed his handsome head; the flickering fire-light played on his face. 
+His sister went up to him at once; she passed her white hand in his dark 
+hair, and bending over him, said tenderly, as if speaking to a child--
+
+"Poor boy! you are tired."
+
+He shook his head, and laughed up in her face.
+
+"Not a bit, Kate. Where is she?"
+
+He half raised his head to look for me; signed me to approach, and made 
+room for me on the sofa. I sat down and looked at him and his sister, who 
+stood lingering there, smiling silently over him, and still passing her 
+slender fingers in his luxuriant hair. The light fell on their two faces, 
+almost equally handsome, and to which their striking resemblance gave a 
+charm beyond that of mere contrast. To trace in both the same symmetrical 
+outlines of form and feature, was to recognize the loveliness of nature's 
+gifts, received and perpetuated for generations in the same race; and to 
+look at them thus in their familiar tenderness, was to feel the beauty 
+and holiness of kindred blood. Child as I was, I was moved with the 
+tender sweetness of Miss O'Reilly's smile; it preceded however a question 
+more kind than romantic. 
+
+"What will you have with your tea? Ham?" 
+
+"Nothing, Kate; we dined on the road." 
+
+"Will she?" 
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"Yes," she interrupted impatiently.
+
+He looked at his sister, who went up to the table, then put the question 
+to me. I wished for nothing; so Miss O'Reilly simply rang the bell; a 
+demure-looking servant brought in the tray. When the tea was made and 
+poured out, Miss O'Reilly said to me, in her short way--
+
+"Child, Thing, give that cup to Cornelius." 
+
+"But my name is Margaret," I objected, a little nettled at being called 
+"Thing."
+
+"I know it is," she replied in a low tone. 
+
+"Margaret," musingly repeated Cornelius, taking the cup I was handing to 
+him, "diminutives, Meg, Peg, and by way of variety Peggy; which do you 
+prefer, child?" 
+
+"I don't like any of them," I frankly replied. 
+
+"Mar-ga-ret! three syllables! I could not afford the time; Katherine has 
+come down to Kate.--you must be Meg." 
+
+I sat at the table taking my tea. I laid down the cup with dismay.
+
+"I don't like Meg," I said. 
+
+"Well then, Peg." 
+
+"I don't like Peg, either." 
+
+"Well then, Peggy." 
+
+"I hate Peggy!" I indignantly exclaimed. 
+
+"Let the child alone!" said Miss O'Reilly. 
+
+"Meg, my dear, a little more milk, if you please," calmly observed 
+Cornelius. Though ready to cry with mortification, I acknowledged the 
+name by complying with his request.
+
+"Thank you, Meg," he said, returning the milk-jug. 
+
+"Let the child alone," again put in his sister. 
+
+"She is my property, and I shall call her as I choose," quietly replied 
+Cornelius. "I don't like the name of Mar-ga-ret."
+
+"Papa said there was not a prettier name," I objected.
+
+"That is a matter of taste," almost sharply replied Cornelius; "I think 
+Katherine is a much prettier name."
+
+He reddened as he spoke, whilst his sister pushed back her untasted tea.
+
+"He said Margaret was the name of a flower," I persisted,--"of the China-
+aster."
+
+"Which you do not resemble a bit," inexorably replied Cornelius; "the 
+garden has shorter and prettier names; Rose, Lily, Violet, etc."
+
+"I like my own name best."
+
+"Meg! No; well then Peg. What!--not Peg! which then?"
+
+"I don't care which," I replied despondingly. 
+
+He saw that my eyes were full of tears, and yet that I submitted.
+
+"Poor little thing!" he observed with a touch of pity. "I must think of 
+something else.--Let me see.--Eureka! Kate, what do you say to Daisy, the 
+botanical diminutive of Margaret?"
+
+"Anything you like, Cornelius," she replied sadly, "but don't teaze the 
+poor child."
+
+"She shall decide."
+
+He called me to him, and left the matter to me. I was glad to escape from 
+Meg and Peg; and Daisy I was called from that hour.
+
+"You already have it quite your own way with that child," observed Miss 
+O'Reilly, looking at her brother; "and yet she looks a little wilful!"
+
+"That is just what makes it pleasant having one's way with her," he 
+replied, smiling down at me, as if amused at his triumph over my 
+obstinacy, and gently pulling my hair by way of caress. "News from the 
+city?" he added after a while.
+
+"There came a message yesterday and two to-day."
+
+Cornelius shook his head impatiently, in a manner habitual to him, and 
+which was ever displaying the heavy masses of his dark hair, but, 
+catching the eye of his sister, he smoothed his brow, and said, smiling--
+
+"I am glad I am so precious."
+
+"It was Mr. Trim who came this evening."
+
+"Very kind of him to call on my handsome sister when I am out of the 
+way."
+
+"He says it is a pity you do not give more of your mind to business."
+
+"I give ninety pounds' worth a year," disdainfully replied Cornelius, 
+"the exact amount of my salary."
+
+"He has got his long-promised government office, with a salary of five 
+hundred a year," continued Miss O'Reilly.
+
+Cornelius half started up on one elbow, to exclaim gaily--
+
+"Kate! has he made you an offer?"
+
+"Nonsense," she replied impatiently, "who is to take the place Trim is 
+leaving vacant?"
+
+"And to do his work," answered Cornelius, indolently sinking back into 
+his previous attitude; "Faith! I don't know, Kate."
+
+"Trim leaves next month," said Miss O'Reilly, looking at her brother.
+
+"Let him, Kate."
+
+"Will you allow that Briggs to step in?"
+
+"Why not, poor fellow?"
+
+Miss O'Reilly's brown eyes sparkled. She gave the fire a vigorous and 
+indignant poke.
+
+"Will you let that Briggs walk upon you?" she asked vehemently.
+
+"Yes," answered Cornelius, yawning slightly, "I will, Kate."
+
+"You have no spirit!"
+
+"None."
+
+He spoke with irritating carelessness. From reproach she changed to 
+argument.
+
+"It would make a great difference in the salary, Cornelius!"
+
+"And in the work, Kate. I shudder to think of the dull letters that 
+unfortunate Briggs will have to write. The tedious additions, 
+subtractions, and divisions he must go through, make my head ache for 
+him."
+
+"Do you fear work, Cornelius?"
+
+"I hate it, Kate."
+
+Again she poked the fire; then looked up at her brother, and said 
+decisively--
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"You idle? Nonsense! I don't believe it."
+
+"Then you ought; nothing but the direct necessity daily hunts me to the 
+city."
+
+"I hate the city!"
+
+"Why so, poor thing? It is only a little smoky, dingy, noisy, and foggy, 
+after all."
+
+"I wish," hotly observed Miss O'Reilly, "that instead of pulling that 
+unfortunate child's hair as if it were the ear of a spaniel, you would 
+talk sense. Come here, Primrose," she added, impatiently, addressing me.
+
+Instead of going I looked at Cornelius. I sat by him on the edge of the 
+sofa, and he was in the act of mechanically unrolling a stray lock of my 
+hair.
+
+"Well!" said Miss O'Reilly
+
+He smiled; but his look said I was to obey his sister; I went up to her a 
+little reluctantly. She made me sit down on a low cushion at her feet, 
+then resumed--
+
+"Cornelius, will you talk sense?"
+
+"Kate, I will."
+
+"Do you, or do you not, like the life you have chosen?"
+
+He did not answer.
+
+"I always thought a stool in an office unworthy of your talents and 
+education. If you do not like it, leave it; if you do like it, seek at 
+least to rise."
+
+"Viz.: Get up on a higher stool, do more work, earn more money, and end 
+the year as I began it--a poor devil of a clerk."
+
+"Why be a clerk at all?"
+
+"Because, though I am idle, I must work to live. Ask me no more, Kate; I 
+have no more to tell you."
+
+He threw himself back on the sofa in a manner that implied a sufficient 
+degree of obstinacy.
+
+"Will you have any supper?" asked his sister, as composedly as if nothing 
+had passed between them.
+
+"Yes, Kate, my dear," he answered pleasantly. She rose and left the room. 
+As the door closed on her, Cornelius half rose and bent forward; from 
+careless his face became serious; from indifferent, thoughtful and 
+attentive, like that of one engaged in close argument; then he looked up 
+and shook his head with a triumphant smile; but chancing to catch my eye, 
+as I sat facing him on the low stool where Miss O'Reilly had left me, he 
+started slightly, and exclaimed, with a touch of impatience--
+
+"Don't look so like a fairy, child! take a book." And bending forward he 
+took from the table a volume of engravings, which he handed to me, 
+informing me I should find it more entertaining than his face. I never 
+looked up from the volume until Deborah brought in the supper.
+
+When the frugal meal was over, Miss O'Reilly took my hand, and led me to 
+her brother. He was standing on the hearth; he looked down at me, laid 
+his hand on my head, and quietly bade me good-night. His sister offered 
+him her cheek.
+
+"Are you not coming down again?" he asked.
+
+"No. I feel sleepy."
+
+He looked deep into her eyes.
+
+"Nonsense!" she said impatiently, "no such a thing."
+
+He passed his arm around her and smiled.
+
+"How handsome you are, Kate!" he observed, with jesting flattery; "woe to 
+my peace of mind when I meet--"
+
+"Not a bit!" she interrupted with a blush and a sigh; "no dark-haired 
+woman will ever endanger your peace. Give me a kiss and let me go."
+
+He embraced her with a lingering tenderness that seemed to have a 
+meaning, for she looked another way, and appeared moved. But at length he 
+released her; she took my hand, led me up to her room, and undressed me 
+in silence. She then looked at me, and said pointedly--
+
+"Well!"
+
+I thought she meant I was to kiss her. I offered to do so, but she put me 
+away, and observed more emphatically than before--
+
+"Well!"
+
+I looked at her thoroughly puzzled.
+
+"Bless me!" she said, in her warm way, "is the child a heathen! Midge, 
+Daisy, whatever your name may be, don't you know that you must say your 
+prayers before going to bed!"
+
+"I always said my prayers to Papa," I replied, rather offended.
+
+"Then kneel down and say them to me."
+
+She sat on the edge of the bed; I knelt at her feet; she took my hands in 
+hers, and fastening on me her clear brown eyes, she heard me to the end. 
+Then she put me to bed, closed the curtains, and told me to sleep. I 
+obeyed. I know not how long I had slept, when low moans awoke me. The 
+light was still burning; I sat up softly, and looked through the opening 
+of the curtains. The handsome sister of Cornelius was kneeling before a 
+small table, on which stood a low lamp; its white circle of light fell on 
+an open volume, but she was not reading; thrown back somewhat in the 
+attitude of the penitent Magdalene, with her hands clasped, and her head 
+sunk in her bosom, she was weeping bitterly. She whom I had seen but a 
+few hours before fresh as a flower, cheerful, gay, was now pale as death, 
+and seemed bowed down with grief. Tears ran down her check like rain, but 
+the only words that passed her lips were those uttered by Christ in his 
+agony on the Mount--"Thy will, not mine, be done!" And this she repeated 
+over and over, as if vainly thirsting for the resignation she thus 
+expressed.
+
+I looked at her with wonder. At length she rose; I softly sank back into 
+my place; scarcely had I done so, when Miss O'Reilly came up to the bed 
+and opened the curtains. I closed my eyes almost without knowing why. She 
+bent over me, I felt her breath soft and warm on my face; then a light 
+though lingering kiss was pressed on my cheek. I did not dare to stir 
+until I felt her lying down by my side; when I then looked, I found the 
+room quite dark. Miss O'Reilly remained very still; for awhile I staid 
+awake, wondering at what I had seen, but at length I fell fast asleep.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ 
+
+I awoke late on the following morning, dazzled by the sunshine which 
+filled the room. I was alone, but on the staircase outside I heard Miss 
+O'Reilly's voice, exclaiming--
+
+"Deborah, will you never clean those door-steps?"
+
+With this, she opened the door and came in. I looked at her; her cheek 
+was fresh, her eyes were bright and clear. With a smile, she asked how I 
+felt, said I did not look amiss, and helped me to rise and dress, 
+chatting cheerfully all the time. A lonely breakfast awaited me in the 
+back parlour; I looked in vain for Cornelius.
+
+"He is gone to the City, and will not be back till five," said Miss 
+O'Reilly. "What, already done! Why, child, how little you eat!" she added 
+with concern; "go into the garden, and run about for awhile."
+
+She opened a glass door, through which came a green and sunny glimpse of 
+a pleasant-looking garden beyond. Without being small, it had the look of 
+a bower, and a very charming bower it was, fragrant and wild. In the 
+centre of a grass-plat rose an old sun-dial of grey stone, with many a 
+green mossy tint. Around wound a circular path, between which and the 
+wall extended a broad space filled with lilac-trees, laburnums, thickets 
+of gorse and broom, and where, though half wild and neglected, also grew, 
+according to their season, cool blue hyacinths, yellow crocuses with 
+their glowing hearts, gay daffodils, pale primroses, snowdrops, shy hare-
+bells, fair lilies of the valley, tall foxgloves of many a rich dark hue, 
+summer roses laden with perfume, stately holly-hocks, bright China-
+asters, and bending chrysanthemums--"a wilderness of sweets." The wall 
+itself, when it could be seen, was not without some charm and verdure. It 
+was old and crumbling, but bristling with bright snap-dragons, yellow 
+with stonecrop above, and green below with dark ivy that trailed and 
+crept along the ground. From a few rusty nails hung, torn and wild, 
+banners of tangled honeysuckle and jasmine, haunted by the bees of a 
+neighbouring hive. Two tall and noble poplars, growing on either side the 
+wooden door by which Cornelius and I had entered, cast their narrow line 
+of waving shadow over the whole place, which they filled with a low 
+rustling murmur. The lane behind was silent; beyond it, and everywhere 
+around, extended gardens, wide or small, where quiet dwellings rose in 
+the shade and shelter of embowering trees; still further on, spread a 
+rising horizon, bounded by lines of low hills, where grey clouds lay 
+lazily sleeping all the day long.
+
+On this autumn morning, Miss O'Reilly's garden was little more than warm, 
+green, and sunny. The poplars had strewn it with sere and yellow leaves, 
+and of the flowers none remained save a few late roses, China-asters, and 
+chrysanthemums. I walked around it, then sat down on the flag at the foot 
+of the sun-dial, and amused myself with looking at the house.
+
+It was one of those low-roofed, red-tiled, and antiquated abodes, which 
+can still be seen on the outskirts of London, daily removed, it is true, 
+to make room for the modern cottage and villa. It stood between a quiet 
+street and a lonely lane, a plain brick building, with many-paned 
+windows, half hid by clustering ivy, which shadowed its projecting porch, 
+and gave it a gloom both soft and deep. A screen of ivy sloping down to 
+the garden-wall partly separated it from a larger house, to which, in 
+point of fact, it belonged; both had originally formed one abode, but, 
+for the purpose of letting, had thus been subdivided by Miss O'Reilly, 
+whose property they had recently become. On either side, the double 
+building was sheltered by young trees. It looked secluded, lone, and 
+ancient: an abode where generations had lived and loved.
+
+From contemplating it, I turned to watching a spider's web, one of my 
+favourite occupations in our garden at Rock Cottage.
+
+"Well!" said the frank voice of Miss O'Reilly.
+
+I looked up; the sun fell full on the house, and on the three worn stone 
+steps that led down to the garden, but she stood above them, beneath the 
+ivied porch, where she looked fresh and cool, like a bright flower in the 
+shade. She gazed at me with her head a little pensively inclined towards 
+her right shoulder; then said gently--
+
+"Why do you sit, instead of running about?"
+
+"It tires me so."
+
+"Poor little thing! but you must move. Come in; go about the house; walk 
+up and down stairs; open the cupboards, look, do something."
+
+"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, astonished however at her singular behests.
+
+"You must call me Kate; say Kate."
+
+I did so; for, like her brother, it was not easy to say her nay. With a 
+kind smile, she sent me on my voyage of discovery. The only apartment 
+that interested me was a room lying at the top of the house, and which I 
+considered to be the lumber-room. It was filled with plaster casts and 
+old dusty pictures without frames; the greater part were turned to the 
+wall; a few that were exposed looked dull in the warm sun-light pouring 
+in on them through the open window; before it stood a deal table, on 
+which, after examining the pictures. I got up.
+
+"Daisy, what are you doing there?" exclaimed Miss O'Reilly, entering the 
+room; "come down."
+
+I obeyed, but said in a tone of chagrin--
+
+"I cannot see the sea!"
+
+"I should think not. Why did you turn those pictures?"
+
+"I found them so, Kate."
+
+She frowned slightly; turned them back, every one, then said gravely--
+
+"You must not come here any more; it is the study of Cornelius. He reads 
+and writes here."
+
+"Did he paint them?" I asked, with sudden interest.
+
+"No," was the short answer; "they are by my father, who has been dead 
+some years."
+
+"Why does he not paint pictures too?"
+
+"Bless the child!" exclaimed Miss O'Reilly, turning on me a flushed and 
+annoyed face; but she checked herself to observe, "He is at a bank, and 
+has neither time nor inclination for painting."
+
+With this we left the room, and went down to the front parlour, where she 
+worked, and I amused myself with a book until the clock struck five. I 
+then looked up at Miss O'Reilly.
+
+"Yes," she said, smiling, "he will soon be here." But there was a delay 
+of ten or fifteen minutes: she saw me restless with expectation, and 
+good-naturedly told me I might go and look out for him at the back-door. 
+I jumped up with an eagerness that again made her smile, and having 
+promised not to pass the threshold of the garden, I ran out to watch for 
+Cornelius, as I had formerly so often watched for my father. The lane was 
+green, silent, and lonely, with high hawthorn hedges, a few overshadowing 
+trees, and a narrow path ever encroached on by grass, weeds, and low 
+trailing plants. Ere long I saw Cornelius appear in the distance; he 
+walked with his eyes on the ground, and never saw me until he had reached 
+the door. He entered, and in passing by me carelessly stroked my hair by 
+way of greeting. To his sister, who stood waiting for him on the last 
+step of the house, he gave the embrace without which they never met or 
+parted.
+
+The tea was made and waiting. Miss O'Reilly poured it out, and called me 
+from where I sat apart, feeling shy and unnoticed, to hand his cup to her 
+brother, who was again lying on the sofa. He asked how I had behaved.
+
+"Too well; she is too quiet."
+
+"Shall we send her to school!" said Cornelius.
+
+I turned round from the table, to give him an entreating look, which he 
+did not heed.
+
+"She is too weak; we must teach her ourselves," replied his sister.
+
+I heard the decision with great relief. A school was my horror. When the 
+meal was over, I made my way to Cornelius, and half whispered--
+
+"Will _you_ teach me?"
+
+"Perhaps so; well, don't look disappointed--I will."
+
+"What do you know?"
+
+"Grammar, history, geography--"
+
+"I can vouch for the geography," interrupted Miss O'Reilly.
+
+"We shall see."
+
+He examined me; I did my best to answer well, and waited for his verdict 
+with a beating heart.
+
+"What do you think of her?" asked his sister, who now re-entered the 
+room, which she had left for awhile.
+
+"She won't fit in it!" replied Cornelius, giving me a perplexed look.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Ah! I forgot to tell you. I bought her a cot, or crib--what do you call 
+it?--I fear she won't fit in it! Can't we shorten her?"
+
+"You have bought her a bed!" exclaimed Miss O'Reilly, looking confounded, 
+and laying down her work.
+
+"Yes; come here, Daisy."
+
+He measured me with his eye, then added triumphantly, "She will fit in 
+it; it is just her size, Kate! see if it is not, when it arrives! just 
+her size."
+
+"Just her size! bless the boy! does he not mean the poor child to grow?"
+
+"Faith!" exclaimed Cornelius, looking astonished, "I never thought of 
+that, never!--and yet," he added thoughtfully, "I think I can remember 
+her shorter than she is now."
+
+"You are the most foolish lad in all Ireland!" hotly observed Miss 
+O'Reilly, with whom, though she had left it many years, her native 
+country was ever present.
+
+She gave him a scolding, which he bore with perfect good-humour. A little 
+mollified by this, she changed the subject by asking--
+
+"Well, how did the child answer?"
+
+"Oh,--hem! Oh, very well, of course."
+
+He had already forgotten all about it, as I felt, with some 
+mortification. Quite unconscious of this, he rose, opened the piano, and 
+turning to his sister, said--
+
+"What shall I sing you, Kate?"
+
+"Anything you like,--one of the Melodies."
+
+She sat back to listen, with her hand across her eyes, whilst, in a rich 
+harmonious voice, her brother sang one of those wild and beautiful Irish 
+melodies,--plaintive as the songs of their own land which the captives of 
+Sion sang by the rivers of Babylon. I listened, entranced, until he 
+closed the piano, and read aloud to his sister from a book of travels, 
+which sent me fast asleep.
+
+Happy are the bereaved children whom Providence leads to the harbour of 
+such a home as I had found! Cornelius and his sister lived in a retired 
+way; their tastes were simple; their means moderate; but their home, 
+though quiet, was pleasant like a shady bower, where the waving trees let 
+in ever-new glimpses of the blue sky, with gliding sun beams and many a 
+wandering breeze. There was a genial light and vivacity about them; an 
+endless variety of moods, never degenerating into ill-temper; a pleasant 
+union of shrewdness, simplicity, and originality, which lent a great 
+charm to their daily intercourse. To be with them was to breathe an 
+atmosphere of cheerful, living peace, far removed from the fatal and 
+enervating calmness which makes a pain of repose.
+
+I knew them at the least troubled period of their lives. They were the 
+children, by different mothers, of an ambitious and disappointed artist, 
+who had left Ireland ardent with hope, and after vainly struggling 
+against obscurity for a few years, had died in London, poor, miserable, 
+and broken-hearted.
+
+For some years his daughter supported herself and her young brother by 
+teaching; then my father, who had long known them, came to her aid, and 
+insisted on defraying the expenses of the education of Cornelius. She 
+struggled on alone, until, about a year before I saw her, an old 
+relative, who had never assisted her in her poverty, died, leaving her a 
+moderate income, and the house in which we now resided. Towards the same 
+time Cornelius, who had completed his studies, instead of entering one of 
+the learned professions, as his sister urged him to do, accepted of a 
+situation in the City. This was one of the few subjects on which they 
+differed; but it was seldom alluded to, and never allowed to disturb the 
+harmony of their home. On most points they agreed; on none more entirely 
+than in taking every care of their adopted child.
+
+Cornelius had a memory tenacious of benefits and injuries. He thought 
+himself bound to watch over the orphan daughter of his benefactor and 
+friend. He took me, indeed, to my grandfather--my natural protector; but, 
+on learning from Miss Murray the footing on which I was said to be 
+treated in Mr. Thornton's house, he at once set off to obtain possession 
+of me, "if possible," not being quite prepared for the ease with which 
+his object was accomplished.
+
+I rejoiced in the change, as might a plant removed from deadly shade to 
+living sunshine. My health improved; I became more cheerful. Every day I 
+walked out with Kate in the neighbourhood. It was then one of the 
+prettiest suburbs about London. We lived in a street called the "Grove," 
+and which deserved its name, for it was planted with old trees, and 
+passed like a broad walk through the gardens on either side, where, like 
+brown nests in a green hedge, appeared a few ancient houses irregularly 
+built, and still more irregularly scattered. But its lanes were the great 
+attraction of this vicinity. 
+
+If we opened the garden door we entered a verdant wilderness of paths 
+crossing one another; and each was (and there lay the charm) in itself a 
+solitude. Country lanes may break the grand lines of a landscape; but, in 
+the neighbourhood of a great and crowded city, every glimpse of nature is 
+pleasant and lovely. I remember the sense of serene happiness I felt in 
+walking out with Kate in the early morning, along a quiet path; now, 
+alas! crowded with villas, but then called "Nightingale lane," and 
+sheltered on one side by a cheerful orchard, with its white and fragrant 
+blossoms in Spring, or its bending fruit in Autumn, glittering in the 
+rising sun; and, on the other, screened by a row of elms, whose ancient 
+roots grasped earth in the tenacious hold of ages, and whose broad base 
+young green shoots veiled with a tender grace. The horizon on our left 
+was bounded by an old park, a stately, motionless grove of beech-trees, 
+above which, bending to every breeze, rose a few tall and graceful 
+poplars; to our right, hidden in its garden, lay our humble home. Kate, 
+reading her favourite Thomas ? Kempis, walked on, her eyes bent on the 
+page; I followed more slowly, reading, child though I was, from the 
+Divine book man cannot improve, and vainly tries to mar.
+
+Between the path and the hedge which enclosed the orchard, lay a broad 
+ditch. There grew green grasses, that bent to the breeze like forests, 
+and beneath which flowed a faint thread of water, the river of that small 
+world, peopled with nations of insects, and which to me possessed both 
+attraction and beauty. For there the ground-ivy trailed along the earth, 
+its delicate blue flowers hidden by fresh leaves; there rose the purple 
+bugle, the stately dead-nettle, with its broad leaves and white whorls, 
+and grew the cheerful celandine, bright buttercups, the sunny dandelion, 
+the diminutive shepherd's purse, the starry blossoms of the chickweed, 
+the dark bitter-sweet with its poisonous red berries, the frail and 
+transparent flowers of the bindweed, sheltered in the prickly hedge like 
+shy or captive beauties, with every other common weed and plant which man 
+despises, and God disdained not to fashion.
+
+My communion with nature, though restricted, was very sweet. I was 
+debarred from her wildness and grandeur, but I became all the more 
+familiar with those aspects which she takes around human homes. And is 
+there not a great charm in the very way in which man and nature meet? The 
+narrow garden, its flowers and shrubs so tenderly protected and cared 
+for, the ivy that clings around the porch, the grass that half disputes 
+the little beaten path, have a half wild, half domestic grace, I have 
+often felt as deeply, as the romantic beauty of ancient glens, where 
+mountain torrents make a way through pathless solitudes. My world might 
+seem narrow, but I never found it so whilst the deep skies, with all 
+their changes, spread above to tell of infinity, and the sweet and 
+mysterious song of free birds, under distant cover, allured thought away 
+to many a green and shady bower.
+
+Not less pleasant to me were the autumn evenings. They still stand forth 
+on the background of memory, as vivid and minutely distinct as the home 
+scenes, by light of lamp or fire-flame, which the old masters like to 
+paint. Cornelius loved music and poetry, those two glorious gifts of God 
+to man. He played and sang with taste, and read well. When the piano was 
+closed, he took down some favourite volume from the bookcase, and gave us 
+a few scenes from Shakspeare, a grand passage from Milton, a calm 
+meditative page from Wordsworth. Sometimes he opened AEschylus, 
+Sophocles, or Euripides, and, translating freely, transported us into a 
+world gone by, but beautiful and human in its passions and sorrows. Miss 
+O'Reilly listened attentively; then, after hearing some fine fragment 
+from the Bound Prometheus, some stirring description from the Seven 
+against Thebes, she would look up from her work and say, with mingled 
+wonder and admiration--
+
+"That is grand, Cornelius!"
+
+"Is it not?" he would reply, with kindling glance, for they both had the 
+same strong admiration for the heroic and great.
+
+I should have been very happy, but for one drawback. It was natural, 
+perhaps, that having been reared by my father, and never having known my 
+mother, I should attach myself to Cornelius in preference to his sister. 
+But in vain I strove to win his attention and favour; in vain I ran, not 
+merely on his bidding, but on a word and on a look; gave him his hat and 
+gloves in the morning; watched for him every fine evening at the garden 
+gate; followed him about the house like his shadow, sat when he sat, 
+happy if I could but catch his eye; in vain I showed him how devotedly 
+fond I was of him; he treated me with the most tantalizing mixture of 
+kindness, carelessness, and indifference. Half the time, he did not seem 
+to see me about the house; when he became conscious that I existed, he 
+gave me a careless nod and smile. If I did anything for him he thanked 
+me, and stroked my hair; yet if I looked unwell, he was quick to notice 
+it. He occasionally made me small presents of books and toys, and every 
+evening he devoted several hours to the task of teaching me. I worked 
+hard to give him satisfaction, but he only took this as a matter of 
+course; called me a good child, and, as I was quiet and silent, generally 
+allowed me to sit somewhere near him for the rest of the evening, and 
+this was all: he seldom caressed, he never kissed me.
+
+With his sister Cornelius was very different, and I felt the contrast 
+keenly. He loved her tenderly; he was proud of her beauty; he liked to 
+call her his handsome Kate, to talk and jest with her, and often, too, to 
+sit by her and caress her with a fondness more filial than brotherly; 
+whilst I looked on, not merely unheeded, but wholly forgotten.
+
+Of course I was still less thought of, when, as happened occasionally, 
+evening visitors dropped in. I remember a dark-eyed Miss Hart, who kept 
+up a gay quarrel with Cornelius, and of whom I was miserably jealous, 
+until, to my great satisfaction, she got married and went into the 
+country; also a bald and learned Mr. Mountford, whom I disliked heartily 
+for keeping Cornelius to himself, but who, in a lucky hour, having made 
+an offer to Kate and being rejected, came no more; likewise Mr. Leopold 
+Trim, whom I detested on the score of his own merits.
+
+As I entered the front parlour on a mild autumn afternoon which I had 
+spent in the garden, I found Miss O'Reilly entertaining him and another 
+gentleman. Mr. Trim sat by the fire in his usual attitude: that is to 
+say, with his hands benevolently resting on his knees, his little eyes 
+peering about the room, and his capacious mouth good-naturedly open.
+
+"Eh! little Daisy!" he said, in his warm husky voice, "and how are you, 
+little Daisy, eh?"
+
+He stretched out an arm--long, for so short a man--and attempted to seize 
+on me for the kind purpose of bestowing a kiss; but I eluded his grasp, 
+and took refuge behind Miss O'Reilly's chair, whence I looked at him 
+rather ungraciously. Mr. Trim took this as an excellent joke, threw 
+himself back in his chair, shut his little eyes, opened his mouth wider, 
+and gave utterance to a boisterous "Ha! ha!" that ended all at once in a 
+strange sort of squeak. Miss O'Reilly frowned; she never heard that laugh 
+with patience.
+
+"Daisy," she said, "go and shake hands with Mr. Smalley, an old friend of 
+Cornelius."
+
+I was shy, but that name had a spell; I obeyed it at once. Morton Smalley 
+was a pale, slender, and good-looking young clergyman, with a stoop, and 
+a long neck; he seemed amiable, and might be said to look meekly into the 
+world through a pair of gold spectacles and over an immaculate white 
+neckcloth. He sat on the edge of his chair, nervously holding his hat; 
+yet when I went up to him, he held out his hand with a smile so kind, and 
+looked at me so benignantly through his glasses, that my shyness vanished 
+at once.
+
+"That Smalley always was a lucky fellow with the ladies," ejaculated Mr. 
+Trim, once more peering round the room with his hands on his knees.
+
+Mr. Smalley blushed rosy red at the imputation.
+
+"A very wild fellow he used to be, I assure you, Ma'am,--ha! ha!"
+
+"My dear Trim," nervously began Mr. Smalley.
+
+"Now, don't Smalley," deprecatingly interrupted Leopold Trim,--"don't be 
+severe; you always are so confoundedly severe."
+
+"Not in an unchristian manner, I hope," observed Mr. Smalley, looking 
+uncomfortable.
+
+"As if _I_ meant any harm!" continued Mr. Trim, looking low-spirited; "as 
+if any one minded the jokes of a good-natured fellow like _me!_"
+
+Mr. Smalley looked remorseful.
+
+"Don't be afraid of me, my dear," he said to me, "I am very fond of 
+little girls."
+
+"Oh! I am not afraid," I replied, confidently; for he did not look as if 
+he could hurt a fly.
+
+Mr. Smalley brightened, and began questioning me; I answered readily. He 
+looked surprised and said--
+
+"You are really very well informed, my dear."
+
+"It is Cornelius who teaches me," I replied proudly.
+
+"Then my wonder ceases. We were all proud of your brother, Ma'am," 
+observed Mr. Smalley, addressing Kate, "and grateful--"
+
+"For fighting all your battles--eh, Smalley?" kindly interrupted Mr. 
+Trim.
+
+Mr. Smalley coloured, but subdued the carnal man, to answer meekly--
+
+"I objected on principle to the unchristian encounters which take place 
+amongst boys, and I certainly owed much to the superior physical strength 
+of our valued friend."
+
+"Lord, Smalley! how touchy you are!" exclaimed Mr. Trim, with mournful 
+surprise.
+
+"Not in this case, surely," Mr. Smalley anxiously replied; "how could I 
+take your remarks unkindly, when you know it was actually with you our 
+dear friend had that first little affair--"
+
+"It is very well for you, who looked on, to call it a little affair," 
+rather sharply interrupted Mr. Trim, "but I never got such a drubbing."
+
+Kate laughed gaily. Mr. Smalley, finding he had unconsciously been 
+sarcastic, looked confounded, and tried to get out of it by suddenly 
+finding out that when Miss O'Reilly laughed she was very like her 
+brother. But Mr. Trim was on him directly. He, as every one knew, was as 
+blind as a bat; but how did it happen that Smalley, who wore glasses, and 
+pretended to have weak eyes, could yet see well enough to discover 
+likenesses? He put the question with an air of injured candour. Mr. 
+Smalley protested that his eyes were weak; but Mr. Trim proved to him so 
+clearly that he was physically and mentally as sharp-eyed as a lynx, that 
+his friend gave in, a convicted impostor, and took refuge in the 
+Dorsetshire curacy to which he was proceeding, and of which he gave an 
+account that might have answered for a bishopric. But thither too, Mr. 
+Trim pursued him, and broadly hinted at the selfishness of some people, 
+who could think of nothing but that which concerned them. Upon which Mr. 
+Smalley, looking at Kate, declared in self-defence that it was not 
+through indifference, but from a sense of discretion, he had not inquired 
+in what branch of literature, science, or art, her brother was now 
+distinguishing himself. Miss O'Reilly reddened, and looked indignantly at 
+Mr. Trim, who, with his eyes shut and his hands on his knees, had 
+suddenly dropped into a doze by the fire-side. Then she drew up her 
+slender figure, and said stiffly--
+
+"My brother is a clerk, Sir."
+
+Mr. Smalley looked at her with mute and incredulous surprise.
+
+"Don't you remember I told you?" observed Mr. Trim, wakening up: "we were 
+turning the corner of Oxford-street."
+
+Mr. Smalley remembered turning the corner of Oxford-street, but no more.
+
+"Yes, yes," confidently resumed Mr. Trim, "we were turning the corner of 
+Oxford-street, when I said to you, 'Is it not a shame a scholar, a genius 
+like O'Reilly, should be perched up on a high stool in a dirty hole of an 
+office--'"
+
+"It was his own choice," interrupted Kate, and she began speaking of the 
+weather.
+
+Five struck; I stole out of the room, went to the garden, and opening the 
+door, stood on the threshold to watch for Cornelius. I soon saw him, and 
+ran out to meet him.
+
+"Mr. Trim is come," I said.
+
+"Is he?" was the careless reply.
+
+"And Mr. Smalley, too."
+
+Cornelius uttered a joyful exclamation, and hastened in, leaving me the 
+door to close. The greeting of the two friends was not over when I 
+entered the parlour. They stood in a proximity that rendered more 
+apparent Mr. Smalley's feminine slenderness as contrasted with the erect 
+and decided bearing of Cornelius, who, although much younger, had, as if 
+by the intuitive remembrance of their old relation of protector and 
+protected, laid his hand on the shoulder of his former school-fellow, 
+looking down at him with a pleased smile.
+
+"Don't you think he's grown?" asked Mr. Trim.
+
+"More than you," was the short reply.
+
+"How much _you_ are altered!" said Mr. Smalley, surveying his friend with 
+evident admiration.
+
+"And so are you," replied Cornelius, glancing at his clerical attire: "I 
+congratulate you."
+
+The Reverend Morton Smalley coloured a little, and, with a proud and 
+happy smile, replied, gently squeezing the hand of Cornelius--
+
+"Thank you, my dear friend; I have indeed obtained the privilege of 
+entering our beloved Church--"
+
+"Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Trim, peering around, "Smalley always liked 
+the ladies,--ha! ha!"
+
+Mr. Smalley reddened and looked hurt, like a lover who hears his mistress 
+slighted. Cornelius, who still stood with his hand on the shoulder of his 
+friend, slowly turned towards Mr. Trim, to say, in a tone of ice--
+
+"Did you speak, Trim?"
+
+Mr. Trim opened his eyes with an alarmed start, as if he rather expected 
+a sort of sequel to "the little affair" of their early days.
+
+"Why, it is only a joke," he hastily replied; "I like a joke, you know; 
+but who minds _me?_"
+
+Before Cornelius could answer, Miss O'Reilly closed the discussion by 
+ringing for tea. Mr. Trim, who now seemed gathered up into himself, like 
+a snail in his shell, drank six cups in profound silence, then went back 
+to the fireside, where, shutting his eyes, he indulged in a nap. Miss 
+O'Reilly was as silent as a hostess could well be. I sat near her, 
+unnoticed, but attentive.
+
+Both during and after the meal the conversation was left to Cornelius and 
+his friend. They spoke of Mr. Smalley's prospects; of the Dorsetshire 
+curacy, on which he again dwelt _con amore;_ they talked of old times, 
+laughed over old jokes, and exchanged information concerning old 
+companions and school-fellows, now scattered far and wide.
+
+"What has become of Smith?" asked Cornelius.
+
+"He is in the army."
+
+"And Griffiths in the navy. You know that Blake is a physician, at 
+Manchester?"
+
+"Yes, and Reed has turned gentleman-farmer--is going to marry--"
+
+"And lead a pastoral life. I am glad they are all doing well."
+
+"Smalley!" observed Mr. Trim, wakening up, "tell O'Reilly you think it a 
+shame for a fine fellow like him to poke in an office."
+
+"_Et tu Brute!_" exclaimed Cornelius, turning round to Mr. Smalley, who 
+replied, a little embarrassed--
+
+"I confess I was surprised--"
+
+"What did you expect from me?"
+
+"Well, remembering your argumentative powers and flow of speech--"
+
+"The law! Smalley, do you, a clergyman, advise me to set unfortunate 
+people by the ears?"
+
+Mr. Smalley looked startled, and took refuge in the healing art.
+
+"The medical profession affords opportunities of benevolence--"
+
+"And of being called up at two in the morning, to the relief of 
+apoplectic gentlemen and ladies in distress."
+
+"Shall I then suggest the army?"
+
+"Would you advise me to make fighting a profession?"
+
+"I fear the navy is open to the same objection," gently observed Mr. 
+Smalley; but he suddenly brightened, laid one hand on the arm of 
+Cornelius, and, raising the forefinger of the other, to impress on him 
+the importance of the discovery, he said earnestly, "My dear friend, how 
+odd it is that you should have forgotten the wide world of science, 
+literature, and art, for which you are so wonderfully gifted!"
+
+"Am I?" carelessly replied Cornelius. He sat on the hearth, facing the 
+fire; he stooped, took up the poker, and began to drive in the coals, 
+much in his sister's way.
+
+"Why, you are a first-rate scholar."
+
+"Learning is worthless now. Besides, cannot I enjoy my old authors 
+without driving bargains out of them?"
+
+"But science?"
+
+"I have no patience for it; then it is hard work, and I am indolent."
+
+"And literature?"
+
+"Bid me become one of the builders of the Tower of Babel," hastily 
+interrupted Cornelius. "No, Smalley, the office, with its paltry salary, 
+moderate labour, and, heaven be praised for it, its absence from care, is 
+the thing for me." He laid down the poker, and reclined back in his chair 
+with careless indolence. Mr. Smalley slowly rubbed his forehead with his 
+forefinger, and looked at Cornelius through his glasses and over his 
+neckcloth, with a gently puzzled air. Then he turned to Miss O'Reilly, 
+and said simply--
+
+"Your brother's philosophy puts me to shame, Ma'am: yet I used to think 
+him ambitious, and I remember that once--I mean no reflection--one of the 
+older boys having doubted his ability to--to do something or other--our 
+dear friend being somewhat hasty, pushed him so that he fell."
+
+"Say I knocked him down," replied Cornelius, reddening and trying to 
+laugh. "Well, those days are gone, and with them the knocking-down 
+propensity, as well as the ambition: I have become as meek and lowly as a 
+lamb."
+
+He threw back his head with the clear keen look of a hawk, and a curl of 
+the lip implying no great degree of meekness.
+
+"Yes," quietly said Kate from her corner, "the child is not always father 
+of the man."
+
+Cornelius bit his lip; Mr. Trim, who was again napping, woke up with a 
+Ha! ha! Then, standing up to look at the clock on the mantelpiece, asked 
+Mr. Smalley "if he called this Christian conduct."
+
+"You know," he added with feeling reproach, "that we have that 
+appointment at seven with Jameson, that I am half blind, the most 
+unfortunate fellow for dozing and forgetting, whilst you always have your 
+wits about you, and are quite a telescope for seeing. Oh! Smalley!" He 
+shook his head at him, peering around the room with eyes that looked 
+smaller than ever. Mr. Smalley attempted a justification on the score of 
+not remembering that the appointment had been made; but Leopold Trim 
+hinted that it was too much to expect him to believe that; though, having 
+been always more or less victimized and imposed upon by Smalley, he was 
+getting used to it. Mr. Smalley expressed his penitence by rising at 
+once, and this brought their visit to an abrupt close. The door was 
+scarcely shut on them, when Miss O'Reilly, poking the fire with great 
+vigour and vivacity, looked up at Cornelius and said--
+
+"I don't believe in Trim; I don't believe in his voice; in his bark and 
+whistle laugh: in his eyes or in his dozing: I don't believe in him at 
+all."
+
+"But Smalley?"
+
+"He is a good young man," she replied impressively.
+
+"Cornelius is a great deal better," I put in, quickly; "he fought for Mr. 
+Smalley, who never fought for him."
+
+"Did you ever hear such a conclusion!" exclaimed Miss O'Reilly, laying 
+down the poker; "fighting made the test of excellence! You naughty girl! 
+don't you see Mr. Smalley was a Christian lad, and Cornelius a young 
+heathen?"
+
+"I like the heathens," was my reply, more prompt than orthodox: "they 
+were always brave; Achilles was, and so was Hector," I added, with a shy 
+look at Cornelius, whom I had secretly identified with the Trojan hero.
+
+Hector laughed, and told me to bring the books for the lessons. I 
+remember that I answered him particularly well,--so well, that his sister 
+asked if I was not progressing.
+
+"Very much," he carelessly replied. "Kate, what has become of that 'Go 
+where Glory waits thee'?"
+
+"I really don't know. Child, what are you about?" I was on my knees, 
+hunting through the music, ardent and eager to find the piece he wanted. 
+He allowed me to search, and sat down by his sister.
+
+"Cornelius, here it is," I said, standing before him with the piece of 
+music in my hand.
+
+"Thank you, put it there. Kate, Smalley is smitten with you!" 
+
+"Nonsense, boy, go and sing your song."
+
+He laughed; rose and kissed her blooming cheek. He had never so much as 
+looked at me. Whilst he sang, I sat at the end of the piano as usual; 
+when he closed the instrument and went to the sofa, I followed him and 
+drew my stool at the foot of the couch. There he indolently lay for 
+awhile; then suddenly started up, and walked, or rather lounged about the 
+room, looking at the books on the table, at the flowers in the stand, and 
+talking to his sister. I rose, and, unperceived as I thought, I followed 
+him quietly; walking when he walked, stopping when he stopped, and 
+waiting for the favourable moment to catch a look and obtain, perhaps, a 
+negligent caress.
+
+"It is most extraordinary," exclaimed Miss O'Reilly, who had been 
+watching me.
+
+"What is extraordinary, Kate?"
+
+"How that child persists in sneaking after you, as if she were a little 
+spaniel and you were her master!"
+
+"Is she not gone to bed yet?" asked Cornelius, turning round to give me a 
+surprised look.
+
+"She is going," replied Miss O'Reilly, rising and taking my hand: "early 
+to bed and early to rise. By the bye, Cornelius, do try and get up 
+earlier. It is too bad to keep breakfast as you do until near nine every 
+morning, with the tea not worth drinking, and the ham getting cold with 
+waiting."
+
+She spoke with some solemnity. He laughed, and promised to amend, 
+throwing the whole fault on "that dreadful indolence of his."
+
+But he did not amend; for though the next morning was bright and sunny as 
+an autumn morning can be, eight struck, and yet Cornelius did not come 
+down, to the infinite detriment of tea and ham. This was but the 
+repetition of a long-standing offence, until then patiently endured; but 
+Miss O'Reilly now put by patience; she looked at the clock, gave the fire 
+a good poke, and, knitting her smooth brow, exclaimed--
+
+"I should like to know why it is that Cornelius will persist in getting 
+up late!"
+
+She was not addressing me; it was rather one of her peculiarities--and 
+she had many--to soliloquize, and I was accustomed to it; but I now 
+raised my eyes from the grammar I was studying, and, looking at her, I 
+listened. She detected this.
+
+"Did you ever see anything like it?" she emphatically observed, 
+questioning that unknown individual with whom she often held a sort of 
+interrogative discourse; "why, if that child were fast asleep, and you 
+only whispered my brother's name, she would wake up directly. Oh! Midge, 
+Midge!" She shook her head as though scarcely approving a feeling so 
+exclusive, and gave the fire a slow meditative thrust. The clock, by 
+striking half-past eight, roused her from her abstraction.
+
+"Daisy," she said very seriously, "go and knock at the door of Cornelius, 
+and tell him the hour." I obeyed; that is to say, I went upstairs; but I 
+found the door standing wide open, and the room vacant, so I proceeded to 
+the little study, thinking Cornelius might perhaps be there. I knocked at 
+the door and received no answer; I knocked again with the same result. 
+Then I perceived that the door was not quite shut, but stood ajar; I 
+gently pushed it open and looked in. The little table was not in its 
+usual place; it stood so as to receive the most favourable degree of 
+light; before it sat Cornelius in a bending attitude, and, as I saw at a 
+glance, drawing from one of the plaster casts.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ 
+
+So intent was Cornelius on his occupation that he never heard or saw me, 
+until I observed, somewhat timidly, "Cornelius, Kate sent me up to tell 
+you that it is half-past eight o'clock."
+
+He looked up with a sudden start that nearly upset the table, and sharply 
+exclaimed, "Why did you come in without knocking?"
+
+"I knocked twice, Cornelius, but you did not answer."
+
+"If you had knocked ten times, you had no right to open that door and 
+enter this room."
+
+"Cornelius, the door was open," I said very earnestly, for he looked 
+quite vexed, with his face flushed, and his brow knit.
+
+"Oh, was it?" he replied, smoothing down. He looked hastily at the 
+drawing on the table, then gave me a quick glance, read in my face that I 
+had seen it, and, taking a sudden resolve, he said, "Come in, and shut 
+the door."
+
+I obeyed. When I stood by his side, Cornelius laid his hand on my head, 
+and gazing very earnestly in my eyes, he said, "You look as if you could 
+keep a secret. Do you know what a secret is?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, I do."
+
+"Then keep mine for me. You see I am drawing. I rise every morning with 
+dawn, to draw; but I do not want Kate to know it just yet,--not until I 
+have done something worth showing. This is the secret you will have to 
+keep; do you understand?"
+
+"Oh yes," I confidently answered. 
+
+"How will you manage?"
+
+"I shall not tell her," was my prompt reply. 
+
+"Why, of course," he said, smiling; "but not to tell is only the first 
+step in keeping a secret. The next, and far more difficult, is not to let 
+it appear that there is a secret. This shall be the test of your 
+discretion."
+
+He removed every trace of his late occupation, and accompanied me 
+downstairs. Miss O'Reilly was not in the parlour; but when she came in 
+she gave her brother a good scolding, which he bore patiently. When he 
+rose to go I handed him his hat as usual; as he took it from my hand, he 
+stooped, and whispered, "Remember!"
+
+He was no sooner gone than Kate, turning to me, said, with a puzzled 
+smile, "Daisy! what was it Cornelius whispered so mysteriously?"
+
+I hung down my head. 
+
+"Did you hear me?"
+
+"Yes, Kate."
+
+"Then answer, child." Again I was mute. Kate laid down her work and 
+beckoned me to her. 
+
+"Is it a secret?" she asked, gravely. 
+
+"I don't say it is, Kate," I replied eagerly. 
+
+"Then answer." I was obstinately silent. 
+
+"Will you tell me?" she asked, much incensed. 
+
+"No," I resolutely replied.
+
+She rose in great wrath, and consigned me to the back-parlour for the 
+rest of the day. Never did punishment sit so lightly on me. Towards dusk 
+Miss O'Reilly opened the door, that I might not feel quite alone. 
+Cornelius came home much later than usual; I sat in the dark, but I could 
+see him; he had thrown himself down on the sofa; the light of the lamp 
+fell full on his face; his look wandered around the room in search of me.
+
+"She has been naughty," gravely said his sister; and she proceeded to 
+relate my offence.
+
+"She would not tell you?" he observed.
+
+"No, indeed! I tried her again in the afternoon; but she stood before me, 
+white with stubbornness, her lips quite closed, hanging down her head, 
+and as mute as a stone."
+
+"She is a peculiar child," quietly said Cornelius, and I could see his 
+gaze seeking to pierce the gloom in which I had lingered.
+
+"Peculiar! you had better call it originality."
+
+Cornelius laughed; and half raising himself up on one elbow, summoned me 
+in with a "Come here, Daisy!" that quickly brought me to his side. He 
+pushed back the hair from my forehead, looked into my face, and said, 
+gravely, "She looks stubborn; I see it in her eyes, and yet what 
+wonderfully fine eyes they are, Kate!"
+
+"Eyes, indeed!" was her indignant rejoinder. "Daisy, go back to your 
+room."
+
+I turned away to obey, but Cornelius called me back.
+
+"Let me try my power," he said to his sister; then to me, "Daisy, tell 
+Kate what I whispered to you."
+
+"Remember!" was my ready reply.
+
+"How can you call her stubborn?" asked Cornelius.
+
+"Remember--what?" inquired Kate; "there, do you see how she won't 
+answer?"
+
+"You obstinate child!" said Cornelius, smiling, "don't you see I mean you 
+to speak? Say all; tell Kate why I bade you remember."
+
+"I was not to tell you that I had found him drawing," I said, turning to 
+Miss O'Reilly.
+
+Her work dropped on her knees; she turned very pale; her look, keen and 
+troubled, at once sought the calm face of her brother, who had again sunk 
+into his indolent attitude, with his hand carelessly smoothing my hair. 
+Miss O'Reilly tried to look composed, and observed, in a voice which all 
+her efforts could not prevent from being tremulous and low, "Oh! you were 
+drawing, Cornelius, were you?"
+
+"Yes," he carelessly replied, "it amuses me in the morning."
+
+"Oh, it amuses you very much, Cornelius?"
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+She took up her work; laid it down, rose, went up to her brother, and 
+standing before him said, resolutely, "Cornelius, tell me the truth."
+
+He sat up, and making her sit down by him, he calmly observed, "Why do 
+you look so frightened, Kate?"
+
+"The truth!" she exclaimed, almost passionately, "the truth!"
+
+"You have had it."
+
+"What does that morning drawing mean?"
+
+"You know it."
+
+"You mean to become an artist?"
+
+"I am an artist," he replied, drawing himself up slightly.
+
+She rocked herself to and fro, looking at her brother drearily. He laid 
+his hand on her shoulder, and said, with earnest tone and look--
+
+"Kate, I know all you dread; there are obstacles; I see them, and I will 
+conquer them. Obstacles! why if there were none, would anything in this 
+world be worth the winning?"
+
+He had begun calmly; he ended with strange warmth and vehemence, throwing 
+back his head with the presumptuous but not ungraceful confidence of 
+youth. His look was daring, his smile full of trust; to both his sister 
+responded by a mournful glance dimmed with tears.
+
+"You had promised--" she began.
+
+"Not to give it up for ever, Kate," he interrupted; "I have kept my 
+promise, I have tried not to draw; I might as well try not to breathe."
+
+"I know now why you took that paltry situation; you did not mean to stop 
+there."
+
+"No, indeed, Kate."
+
+"I always knew you were ambitious."
+
+"So I am."
+
+"A nice mistress Fame will make you, my poor brother! Oh yes, very!"
+
+"I won't make a mistress of her, Kate; she is too much used to that; she 
+shall be my hand-maiden."
+
+"First catch her!" shortly replied his sister. 
+
+He laughed good-humouredly; she gave a deep, impatient sigh.
+
+"I know I must seem harsh," she said, "but our father's death--of a 
+broken heart--is always before me. You are very like him in person and 
+temper; for God's sake be not like him in destiny! I know painting; once 
+it has taken hold of a man's mind, soul and being, he must either win or 
+perish. Love is nothing to it. I would rather see you in love with ten 
+girls."
+
+"At a time?" interrupted Cornelius, looking shocked. "Am I a Turk?"
+
+"You foolish boy, is a Turk ever in love? I mean I would rather see you 
+wasting, in successive follies, the best years of your youth, than see 
+you a painter. There comes a time, when, of his own accord, a man gives 
+up passion; but when does the unlucky wight who has once begun to write 
+poetry or paint pictures give them up?"
+
+"Never, unless he never loved them," replied Cornelius, with a triumphant 
+smile; "poetry or painting, which I hold to be far higher, becomes part 
+of a man's being, and follows him to the grave. But it is a desecration 
+to speak of it as a human passion. I am not hard-hearted; but if Venus in 
+all her charms, or, to use a stronger figure of speech, if one of 
+Raffaelle's divine women were to become flesh and blood for my sake, and 
+implore me to return her passion--"
+
+"Why you would of course; don't make yourself out more flinty than you 
+are; it would not take one of Raffaelle's women to do that either."
+
+"Hear me out: if to win this lovely creature I should give up painting, 
+not for ever, not for ten years, nor yet five, but just for one year,--
+Kate, she might walk back to her canvas."
+
+"Conceited fellow!" indignantly said Kate, divided between vexation at 
+his predilection for Art, and the slight thrown on her sex.
+
+"It is not conceit, Kate; it is the superior attraction of Art over 
+passion. How is it you do not see there is and can be nothing like 
+painting pictures?" Kate groaned. "It beats all else hollow,--poetry, 
+music, ambition, war, and love, which is held master of all. Alexander, 
+unhappy man! wept because he had no more worlds to win. Did Apelles ever 
+weep for having no more pictures to paint? Paris carried off Helen to 
+Troy, which was taken after a ten years' siege. Imagine Paris an artist; 
+he paints Helen under a variety of attitudes: Menelaus benevolently 
+looking on; little Hermione plays near her mamma; Troy stands in the 
+distance, with Priam on the walls; everything peace and harmony.--Moral: 
+if fine gentlemen would take the portraits, and not the persons of fair 
+ladies, we should not hear so much of invaded hearths and affairs of 
+honour."
+
+"Will you talk seriously?" impatiently said Kate.
+
+"As seriously as you can wish," he replied gravely. "What do you fear for 
+me? It is late to begin, but I have been working hard these two years. 
+What about our poor father? many a great painter has been the son of a 
+disappointed artist. What even about the difficulty of winning fame? I am 
+ambitious, not so much to be famous, as to do great things. There is the 
+aim of a life; there is the glorious victory to win."
+
+His handsome face had never looked half so handsome: it expressed daring, 
+power, hope, ardour, all that subdues the future to a man's will.
+
+"I tell you," he resumed, with a short triumphant laugh, "that I shall 
+succeed. I feel the power within me; I shall give fame to the name of 
+O'Reilly, stuff your pockets with money, charm your eyes with fair forms; 
+in short I shall conquer Art."
+
+He passed his arm around his sister's neck, and gave her a warm kiss. She 
+half smiled.
+
+"That always was the way," she said, with a sigh: "I argued; you talked 
+me out of my better knowledge, and then you would put your arm around my 
+neck, and--"
+
+"There was no resisting that, Kate; but then I looked up, and now I look 
+down."
+
+"Yes, you are a man now," she replied, looking at him with an admiring 
+smile, "and the O'Reillys have always been fine men."
+
+"And the women lovely, gifted, admired--"
+
+"And minded as much as the whistling of the wind. Don't look vexed, my 
+poor boy. I know I am not fair to you; that many a son is not so good and 
+dutiful to his mother as you are to me; but, you see, it is as if you had 
+been marrying a girl I hated; I can't get over it, even though I feel you 
+have a right to please yourself. The best course will be not to talk of 
+it: we should not agree; and where's the use of disagreeing?"
+
+"If wives were as sensible as you are--"
+
+"Nonsense!" she interrupted, smiling; "no woman of spirit would give in 
+to her husband; but to her boy! oh, that's very different. Please 
+yourself; paint your pictures, my darling, only--only--if the public 
+don't like them, don't break your heart." 
+
+She now stood by him, with her hand resting lightly on his fine dark 
+hair, and her eyes seeking his with wistful fondness. He laughed at her 
+last words, laughed and knit his brow as he said--
+
+"The public may break its heart about me, Kate--not that I wish it such a 
+fate, poor thing!--but against the reverse I protest. And now have mercy 
+on your brother, who has heard something about Daisy, and a good deal 
+about painting, but nothing about tea."
+
+"Are you hungry?"
+
+"Starving."
+
+"Poor fellow! I had no idea of it,--I shall see to it myself."
+
+She left the room. Her brother remained sitting in the same attitude, a 
+little bent forward, abstractedly gazing at the fire. Then all at once he 
+saw and noticed me, as I sat apart quiet and silent. He beckoned; I 
+approached.
+
+"What shall I give you?"
+
+"Nothing," was my laconic reply.
+
+"But I want to give you something."
+
+I hated the idea of my being paid for my secrecy and my punishment. I 
+felt myself reddening as I answered--
+
+"But I don't want anything, Cornelius."
+
+"Don't you?" he replied, smiling, and before I knew what he was about, I 
+found myself on the knee and in the arms of Cornelius, who was kissing me 
+merrily. He had never done half as much since I was with him and his 
+sister. My face burned with surprise and delight; he laughed, kissed me 
+again, and said, with the secure smile of conscious power, "Well, what am 
+I to give you?"
+
+I was completely subdued; I replied, submissively, "Anything you like, 
+Cornelius."
+
+"No, it must be anything you like, and in my power to give. A book, a 
+plaything, a doll, etc."
+
+"Anything! may I really ask for anything?" I exclaimed, with sudden 
+animation.
+
+"Yes, you may."
+
+"Do you really mean it?"
+
+"I always mean what I say. Why, child, what can it be? Your eyes sparkle 
+and your cheeks flush. What is it? Speak out."
+
+"Let me be with you in the morning when you are drawing."
+
+"Is that it?" he said, looking annoyed and surprised.
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+"You will have to stay very quiet."
+
+"I don't mind that, Cornelius."
+
+"You must not speak."
+
+"I don't mind that either."
+
+"Have something else: a book with pictures."
+
+I did not answer.
+
+"And I will let you come in now and then."
+
+I remained mute. Cornelius saw that what I had asked for, and nothing 
+else, I would have. Again he warned me.
+
+"Daisy, you will find it very dull to sit without speaking or moving. I 
+pity you, my poor child."
+
+I was shrewd enough to see through his pity. I looked up into his face, 
+and said demurely--
+
+"I shall not mind it, Cornelius."
+
+"You will mind nothing to have your way--obstinate little thing!--but I 
+warn you: you must come in without knocking, without saying good morning; 
+you must not move, speak, or go in and out; if you break the agreement 
+once, you lose the privilege for ever."
+
+"I shall not break the agreement, Cornelius."
+
+"Of course you won't," he said, looking both provoked and amused, "catch 
+me again passing my word to you, Miss Bums."
+
+I half feared he was vexed, but he was not, for when Deborah brought in 
+the tea-tray, with the addition of fried ham and eggs, Cornelius, instead 
+of putting me away, kept me on his knee.
+
+"The O'Reillys always had good appetites," observed Miss O'Reilly, who 
+stood looking on, enjoying the vigour with which her brother attacked her 
+good-cheer. "Daisy, what are you perched up there for? Come down 
+directly."
+
+"Stay, Daisy," said Cornelius, "you are not in my way." And indeed, from 
+the fashion in which everything vanished before him, I do not think I 
+was. But Miss O'Reilly was of a different opinion, for she resumed 
+impatiently--
+
+"Now, Cornelius, you need not feed that child from your plate; she left 
+half her own tea, and she drinks yours, because it is yours."
+
+Cornelius was holding his cup to my lips. He smiled, and kissed me.
+
+"Yes, pet her now," said Kate, "after getting her unjustly punished."
+
+"It was thoughtless of me--I beg her pardon."
+
+"I don't want you to beg my pardon," I replied, looking a little 
+indignantly at his sister.
+
+"I think if he were to beat you, you would enjoy it," was her short 
+answer.
+
+His meal was over; he had removed from the table to the sofa; but he had 
+not put me away. Miss O'Reilly looked at us from her place, and evidently 
+could not make it out.
+
+"Are there to be no lessons?" she asked at length.
+
+"No, this is a holiday."
+
+"Shall there be no singing?"
+
+"I am tired."
+
+He was not too tired to talk to me, and make me talk, to an extent that 
+induced Miss O'Reilly to exclaim--
+
+"I thought the child was a mouse, and she turns out to be a magpie."
+
+She spoke shortly, but he kept me still.
+
+"Decidedly," said Kate, after vainly waiting for me to be put away, 
+"decidedly, if one were to meet you in China or Japan, that little pale 
+face would be somewhere about you."
+
+He said it was a little pale face, but that it had fine eyes, and he 
+caressed her who owned it, very kindly.
+
+"Nonsense!" observed his sister, frowning.
+
+"She is so shy," he pleaded.
+
+"Pretty shyness, indeed!" replied Kate, as she saw me, with the sudden 
+familiarity of childhood, pass my arm around the neck of her brother, and 
+rest my head on his shoulder. "Daisy, it is bed-time."
+
+She rose, but I could not bear to leave Cornelius on the first evening of 
+his kindness. I clasped my two hands around his neck, and looked 
+beseechingly in his face.
+
+"Another quarter of an hour, Kate," he said.
+
+"Not another minute," she replied, taking my hand, for I lingered in his 
+embrace like our mother Eve in Eden. "If you are good." she added, to 
+comfort me, "you shall stay up half an hour longer as the days increase."
+
+"But they are shortening now," I said, mournfully.
+
+"Let her stay up for this one evening," entreated Cornelius, "to make up 
+for her dull day in the back-parlour."
+
+Miss O'Reilly allowed herself to be mollified; but as she returned to her 
+place and sat down, she said emphatically, looking at the fire--
+
+"He will spoil that child, you'll see he will." 
+
+Cornelius only smiled; he did not attempt to contradict the prophecy by 
+putting me away; as long as I liked, he allowed me to remain thus--once 
+more an indulged and very happy child.
+
+From that evening Cornelius liked me. By making him all to me, I had 
+succeeded in becoming something to him; for there is this mysterious 
+beauty in love, that it wins love; unlike other prodigals, it is in the 
+very excess of its bounty that it finds a return.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ 
+
+Early the next morning I stole up to the study. I did not knock; I 
+entered on tiptoe; I closed the door softly; I did not bid Cornelius good 
+morning; but I brought forward a high stool, placed it so that it 
+commanded a good view of him and of his drawing, and, with some trouble, 
+I clambered up to its summit: once there, I moved no more, but watched 
+him with intense interest.
+
+He neither moved nor looked up; his task absorbed every faculty of his 
+being; he looked breathless; every feature expressed the concentration of 
+his mind and senses towards one point. For an hour he never stirred; at 
+length he pushed away his drawing, threw himself back in his chair, and, 
+having been up since dawn, indulged in a very unromantic yawn. I sat 
+rather behind him; it was some time before he remembered me; he then 
+suddenly turned round, and looked at me in profound silence. I was too 
+much on my guard to infringe the agreement by either moving or opening my 
+lips.
+
+"You have a good eye for a position," he said.
+
+I did not answer.
+
+"Are you comfortable, perched up there?" he continued.
+
+"I don't mind it, Cornelius."
+
+"You can come down now."
+
+I obeyed with great alacrity.
+
+"May I speak now?" I asked with a questioning look.
+
+"You may ease yourself a little," was his charitable reply.
+
+"Cornelius, is not that Juno?"
+
+"The wife of Jupiter and the mamma of Vulcan--precisely."
+
+I was standing by him. There were other drawings on the table; I raised 
+the corner of one and glanced at Cornelius; he smiled assent. I drew it 
+forth; it represented an Italian boy sitting on sunlit stone steps.
+
+"That is the boy to whom Kate gave the piece of bread the other morning," 
+I exclaimed eagerly, "is it not, Cornelius?"
+
+I looked up into his face; he seemed charmed: first praise is like early 
+dew, very fresh and very sweet. He drew forth another drawing, and asked 
+whose face it was. Breathless with astonishment, I recognized myself; 
+then Kate, Deborah, Miss Hart, and even Mr. Trim, passed before me in 
+graphic sketches. I felt excited; I now knew the power of Cornelius: he 
+had actually, if not created, yet drawn from obscurity, those forms and 
+faces by the mere force of his will.
+
+"Why, how flushed and animated you look!" said Cornelius, with an amused 
+smile, as he put away the drawings.
+
+"Cornelius," I said eagerly.
+
+"Daisy."
+
+"Don't you think that if you like--" I paused: he was not attending to 
+me.
+
+"I hear you," he observed, stooping to pick up a stray drawing,--"don't I 
+think that if I like--"
+
+"Don't you think that if you like you may become as great a painter as 
+Raffaelle or Michael Angelo?"
+
+I spoke seriously and waited for his reply, as if it were to decide the 
+question. Cornelius looked at me with his drawing in his hand; he tried 
+to laugh, but only reddened violently.
+
+"You ambitious little thing!" he said, "what has put Raffaelle or Michael 
+Angelo into your head?"
+
+"Papa told me they were the two greatest painters, but I don't see why 
+you should not be as great as either of them."
+
+"One can be great and yet be unlike them;--ay, and be famous too!"
+
+"Will you be famous?"
+
+"Who was it never bade me good morning?" asked Cornelius, kissing me.
+
+But in the very midst of the caress, as his lips touched my cheek, I 
+repeated my question, with the unconquerable persistency of children:
+
+"Will you be famous?"
+
+"Would you like it?" he asked, smiling.
+
+"Oh! so much!" I exclaimed, with my whole heart.
+
+"Then, on my word, my dear, I shall do my best to please you; and now let 
+us go down to breakfast."
+
+He was unusually late, but his sister did not complain. She received him 
+with pleasant cheerfulness; yet several times, in the course of that day, 
+I overheard her sighing to herself very sadly.
+
+I have since then wondered at the secretiveness of Cornelius; but though 
+he was religious, he never spoke of religion; he rarely alluded to his 
+country, for which he could do nothing, whose wrongs he resented too 
+proudly to lament, and yet which he carried in his heart; and, perhaps 
+because he loved it so ardently, he had never made painting the subject 
+of daily speech. When it became the avowed occupation of his life--a task 
+instead of a feeling--this reserve lessened; something of it remained 
+with his sister; little, I might almost say nothing, with me.
+
+I was a child, but I gave him sympathy, a food which the strongest hearts 
+have needed. I loved him, I admired him, I believed in him; he soon liked 
+to have me in his study, or studio, as by a convenient change of the 
+vowels it was now called. He could talk to me, amuse himself with my 
+criticisms, then with a look consign me to silence. Perhaps it was thus 
+he became so fond of me,--too fond, his sister said; all I know is, he 
+was very kind and the winter a very happy time.
+
+The spring that followed it was lovely. One day I remember especially for 
+its joyous brightness. The garden was green and blooming; Kate sat sewing 
+on the bench by the house; I stood at the door looking down the lane. The 
+hawthorn hedge that faced the west was ready to break out in blossom; the 
+sun was warm; the air clear; the south-western wind was gently blowing; 
+the newly leaved trees seemed rejoicing in a second birth; afar, through 
+the stillness of this quiet place, the cuckoo's voice was faintly heard. 
+I know not why I record these things, save that there is a portion of our 
+hearts to which the aspects of this lovely world ever cling, and that, as 
+I stood there looking, Cornelius came up the lane. He had gathered the 
+ripest hawthorn bough; he gave it to me smiling; entered and sat down on 
+the bench by his sister: I sat on a step at their feet. For awhile they 
+talked of indifferent things, then he said--
+
+"Kate, will you sit to me?"
+
+"What for?" she asked, looking rather startled.
+
+"A little oil painting: subject, Mother and child. You we to be the 
+mamma, Daisy the child."
+
+"Where will you send it?"
+
+"To the Academy, of course. Can you give me early sittings?"
+
+"I can; but can Daisy?"
+
+I saw his face express keen disappointment, and I said eagerly--
+
+"I shall get up early, Cornelius; with dawn; I shall not mind a bit."
+
+"Nonsense, you shall get up at your usual hour--and there's an end of 
+it."
+
+"Cornelius, may I speak to you?"
+
+"No:" he started up, walked across the garden, came back and threw 
+himself down, exclaiming--
+
+"It will never be finished, never!"
+
+"Cornelius," I said again, "let me speak to you _now_."
+
+"Speak, and have done with it," he said, impatiently.
+
+"If I go to bed early, may I not get up early? Early to bed and early to 
+rise, you know."
+
+He bent on me a face that lit with sudden gladness.
+
+"And will you really do that for me?" he asked eagerly. "Will you, who 
+hate going to bed early, do that for my sake?"
+
+"Oh yes, Cornelius, and be so glad to help you a little!"
+
+"God bless you, my good little girl!" cried Cornelius, as he caught me up 
+in his arms, and accompanied the benediction with a warm kiss, "I shall 
+never forget that, never!"
+
+He looked touched and delighted. He who had heaped so many kindnesses on 
+me, was as quick to feel this little proof of my grateful affection, as 
+though he had done nothing to call it forth.
+
+"Now, is not that good of her?" he said to Kate, "to offer to go to bed 
+early just as she is beginning to stay up that half-hour later? Is it not 
+good of her?"
+
+"She shall be put to the test this very evening," replied Kate, smiling.
+
+I stood the test with a heroism only to be equalled by my patience as a 
+sitter on the following morning. I was as submissive as Kate was 
+rebellious.
+
+"Kate," once remonstrated her brother, "will you do nothing for Art,--not 
+even to sit quietly?"
+
+"Nonsense!" she impatiently replied.
+
+"Nonsense!" he mournfully echoed, "she calls Art nonsense! Art, that is 
+to win her brother so much honour, ay; and with this very picture!"
+
+Kate sighed deeply.
+
+"How very odd," said Cornelius, pausing in his work to look at her--"how 
+very odd you do not see what is so clear to me, that I must succeed! I am 
+surprised you do not see it, Kate."
+
+There was not the shadow of a doubt on his clear brow; not a sign of fear 
+in his secure and ardent look.
+
+"Our poor father used to say just the same, Cornelius, only if one 
+doubted, he would fly out."
+
+"Then I do not; there is the difference."
+
+"He was not bad-tempered; but disappointment--"
+
+"Kate, your manner of supporting Daisy is getting less and less maternal; 
+pray do not forget that you are very miserable about your darling. Daisy, 
+my pet, your doll was put there to show you are too ill to enjoy it, not 
+to look at."
+
+The sitting was long; our attitudes were rather fatiguing: Kate lost 
+patience.
+
+"You will be late," she said, "and Daisy is tired."
+
+"I am not tired," I observed.
+
+"Don't you know, Kate," said her brother, smiling, "that if I were to ask 
+her to jump out of that window, she would?"
+
+"Nonsense!" shortly replied Miss O'Reilly.
+
+"There," she added, as I reddened indignantly at what I considered an 
+imputation on my devotedness,--"there, did you see the look the little 
+minx gave me?"
+
+"I see that, as my attitudes are spoiled, I [must] release you. Ah, Daisy 
+is the best sitter of the two," he added, as his sister jumped up with 
+great alacrity; and he thanked me with a caress so kind, that Kate said, 
+in a displeased tone--
+
+"You may make that child too fond of you, Cornelius."
+
+"And if I do, Kate, have I not the antidote? Am I not getting very fond 
+of her myself?"
+
+He was, and I knew it; and daily rejoiced in the blessed consciousness.
+
+Spring yielded to summer; summer passed; the picture progressed; 
+Cornelius devoted to it his brief holiday in the autumn.
+
+"You look pale and ill," said Kate; "you want rest."
+
+"I feel in perfect health; work is my holiday," was his invariable reply.
+
+And to work he fell--harder than ever.
+
+"Yes, yes," she sadly said, "the fever is on you."
+
+The fever was indeed on him; that strange, engrossing fever to which 
+passion is nothing; which to the strong is life, but death to the weak. 
+He revelled in it as in a new, free, delightful existence. Pale and thin 
+he was, but his brow had never been more serene, his glance more hopeful, 
+his whole bearing more living and energetic. But as autumn waned, as days 
+grew short, as leisure to work lessened, the serenity of Cornelius 
+vanished. He rose long before dawn and paced his little studio up and 
+down, impatiently watching the east: with the first streak of daylight he 
+was at work, and day after day it became more difficult to tear him from 
+his task. When he came home at dusk, his first act was to run up to his 
+picture. I often followed him unnoticed, and found him standing before 
+it, fastening on his unfinished labour a concentrated look that seemed as 
+if it would struggle against fate and annihilate the laws of time. When 
+he turned away, it was with an impatient sigh unmixed with the least atom 
+of resignation.
+
+We were sitting dull enough in the parlour, one evening just before 
+Christmas, when Kate said to him, in her sudden way--
+
+"The days will get long in January."
+
+"And I shall then be a free man," he replied, with a smile.
+
+"You have been discharged!" she exclaimed, dismayed.
+
+"I have discharged myself. Now, Kate, don't look so startled! The picture 
+shall be finished in time."
+
+"I dare say it will, Cornelius," she replied, ruefully.
+
+"Well, then, what do you fear?"
+
+"Suppose," she hesitatingly suggested, "that it cannot get exhibited!"
+
+"I do not see how that can be," composedly replied Cornelius.
+
+"Bless the boy! do they never reject pictures?"
+
+I sat by Cornelius, whose hand played idly with my hair; he stopped short 
+to give his sister an astonished glance, then he shook his handsome head, 
+and laughed gaily.
+
+"Reject _that_ picture, Kate!"
+
+"He is his father all over," she sighed.
+
+He smiled at her blindness, and turning to me, said--
+
+"What do you say, Daisy?"
+
+"They shan't reject it; they dare not," was my ready reply.
+
+"It is too absurd to suppose such a thing, is it not?" he added, to teaze 
+his sister, who disappointed him by unexpectedly veering round.
+
+"Cornelius," she said, decisively, "your energy and decision in this 
+matter give me more hope than your enthusiasm. I like a man to act for 
+himself; but you must go on as you have begun, and give yourself up 
+entirely. Will you be a student at the Royal Academy? Will you study 
+under some great master? Will you travel? Speak, I have money."
+
+"Thank you, Kate; I am glad you think I have acted rightly; but I have 
+begun alone, and alone I must go on, with experience for my sole teacher. 
+I must keep my originality."
+
+Kate remonstrated, but Cornelius, once in the fortification of his 
+originality, was not to be ejected thence.
+
+"Just like his poor father!" sighed Kate; "he was always for his 
+originality." 
+
+Cornelius also resembled his poor father in the possession of a will of 
+his own. Kate knew it, and wisely gave up the point.
+
+In a few days more Cornelius was free. His tread about the house had 
+another sound; his eyes overflowed with gladness and burned with the hope 
+of coming triumphs. He exulted in the endless sittings we gave him, and 
+amused himself like a child with day-dreams and air-castles. His 
+favourite one--the fame and fortune were both settled--was a skylight.
+
+"Yes, Kate," he once said, looking up at the ceiling, "to keep your 
+brother under your roof, you must knock it down and give him a skylight. 
+Some artists prefer studios in town; but I, domestic man, stick to the 
+household gods: with a skylight you may keep me for ever."
+
+"Conceited fellow!"
+
+"Conceited! now is not this a nice bit of painting?" he drew her to his 
+side and made her face the easel.
+
+"Indeed it is," she replied admiringly: "where will you send it?"
+
+"To the Academy, Kate, the first place or none."
+
+"Oh!" she hastened to answer, "I only fear they may not hang it as well 
+as it deserves. Jealousy, you know, or even want of room."
+
+"There is always room for the really good pictures," replied Cornelius.
+
+This was in February, but his sister evidently felt some uneasiness on 
+the subject, for she recurred to it several times, and when nothing led 
+to the remark, observed to Cornelius with a wistful look--
+
+"I hope it may be well hung, Cornelius."
+
+"I hope so," he quietly replied.
+
+At length came the day on which this interesting fact was to be 
+ascertained. A bright May day it was; Cornelius wished to go alone, 
+"there always was such a crowd on the first day," and had his wish. We 
+stayed at home trying to seem very careless, very indifferent, but Miss 
+O'Reilly could not work and I could not study. We began sudden 
+conversations on common-place themes, that broke off as they had 
+commenced, at once and without cause. Of the real subject that occupied 
+our thoughts we never spoke. I went up and down the house with unusual 
+restlessness, ever coming back to the window that overlooked the Grove.
+
+"I should like to know what you mean by it?" suddenly asked Miss 
+O'Reilly. "Why do you look out of that window?"
+
+"Cornelius told me he would come by the Grove."
+
+"And why do you fidget about his coming back on this particular day? Just 
+get out of my light, if you please."
+
+I obeyed; but the next thing Kate did herself was to open the window and 
+look down the Grove. The day was waning; Cornelius did not return; she 
+could not keep in, but said anxiously--
+
+"I am afraid it is not well hung, after all."
+
+"I am afraid it is not," I replied, for I too began to feel very 
+uncomfortable.
+
+"No, decidedly it is not well hung," she continued, "but I don't see why 
+that should prevent him from coming back;" and no longer caring to hide 
+her impatience, she took her seat at the window, which she left no more.
+
+"There is Cornelius!" I said, with a start, as a ring was heard at the 
+garden-door.
+
+"Hold your tongue!" indignantly exclaimed Kate. "Why should he slink in 
+by the back way? Daisy, I forbid you to open; it is a run-away ring: 
+Cornelius indeed!"
+
+I obeyed reluctantly; I was sure it was Cornelius, and as I had not been 
+forbidden to look, I went to the back-parlour window. I reached it as 
+Deborah opened the door. It was Cornelius, with his hat pulled down over 
+his brow, and what could be seen of his face, of a dull leaden white. He 
+passed by the girl without uttering a word, entered the house, and went 
+upstairs at once. I heard him locking himself up in his room, then all 
+was still.
+
+I returned to the front parlour. Miss O'Reilly was pacing it up and down 
+in great agitation, wringing her hands and uttering many broken 
+ejaculations of mingled grief and anger.
+
+"My poor boy! my poor boy!" she exclaimed, with a strange mixture of 
+pathos and tenderness in her voice, like a mother lamenting over her 
+child; then stopping short, she added, her brown eyes kindling with 
+sudden and rapid wrath--"What a bad set they are! a bad envious set! They 
+thought they would not let him get up and eclipse them all. Oh no!--not 
+they--they knew better than that--crush him at once--don't give him 
+time--crush him at once!"
+
+She laughed sarcastically, then resumed, in a tone of indignant and 
+dignified wonder, "I am astonished at Cornelius. What else could he 
+expect? Has he not genius, and is he not an Irishman? Why did he not put 
+Samuel Smith or John Jenkins or Leopold Trim at the bottom of his 
+picture?--it would have got in at once; but with such a name as Cornelius 
+O'Reilly, it was ludicrous to expect it."
+
+"Don't they take in the pictures of Irish artists?" I asked.
+
+"Hold your tongue!" was the short reply I got.
+
+"Please, Ma'am," said Deborah, opening the door, "don't you want the 
+tea?"
+
+"And why should we not want the tea?" asked Miss O'Reilly, giving her a 
+suspicious look,--"can you tell me why, Deborah? Can you give me any 
+reason?--I should like to know why?"
+
+Deborah opened her mouth in mute wonder.
+
+"Bring up the tea-tray," continued her mistress, "and henceforth don't be 
+uppish and make remarks, for you see it won't go down with me."
+
+Deborah endured the reproof with a perplexed air, retired, and returned 
+with the tray. Miss O'Reilly made the tea with a deep sigh. We had eaten 
+little at dinner; but had Cornelius dined at all? He gave us no sign of 
+existence, and Kate did not seem inclined to go near him. When the tea 
+was poured out, she turned to me and said, in a low tone--
+
+"Go and tell Cornelius tea is ready."
+
+I obeyed in silence.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ 
+
+I knocked at the door of Cornelius; he opened it; the landing was dark, I 
+could not see him distinctly. I delivered my message; he did not reply, 
+but quietly followed me downstairs. As he entered the parlour, the look 
+of Kate became riveted on his face; it was pale but perfectly collected. 
+He sat down and drank his tea in total silence. No sooner was the tray 
+removed, than Miss O'Reilly entered abruptly on the subject, by saying--
+
+"What mean jealousy there is, Cornelius!"
+
+"Yes, Kate, very mean jealousy."
+
+"In this case especially."
+
+"It was not jealousy," he replied, looking annoyed.
+
+"The name then! I said so: a Smith, a Jones, a Jenkins would have got in, 
+but an O'Reilly--"
+
+"Kate," interrupted her brother, reddening,  "it was not the name."
+
+"What then?" she asked, with a wistful look.
+
+His lip trembled, but he made an effort, and replied firmly--
+
+"The picture."
+
+"The picture!" echoed Kate, looking disheartened.
+
+"Yes, the picture," resumed Cornelius, inexorable to himself, to his 
+youthful ambition, to his long-cherished dreams; "it is not its being 
+rejected that troubles me, but its having deserved the rejection. Kate, I 
+have committed a bitter mistake, and I found it out, not to-day, but 
+weeks ago. So long as Art was unattempted, faith was in me as a living 
+stream; it has ebbed away, and left the bed where it once flowed, barren 
+and dry."
+
+He sat by the table, his brow resting on his hand, the light of the lamp 
+falling on his pale face, where will vainly sought to control the keen 
+disappointment of a life-long aim. There was a pause, then his sister 
+said--
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"Seek for some other situation; anything will do."
+
+"The City again! Why not try for work as an artist?"
+
+"And do as a drudge the work I so long hoped to do as a master," replied 
+Cornelius, colouring to the very temples. "No, Kate, that indeed would be 
+degradation!"
+
+"Then you give up painting?"
+
+"Utterly."
+
+She started from her seat, went up to him, laid her hand on his arm, and 
+said warmly--
+
+"Leave the City to drudges, and painting to enthusiasts. You have youth, 
+talent, energy; choose the career of a gentleman, work, and make your way 
+as you can, if you will--I shall find the means."
+
+"I cannot," replied Cornelius, after a pause.
+
+"Then you mean to return to painting," vehemently exclaimed his sister.
+
+"If I cannot paint good pictures, Kate, I will not paint bad ones."
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"The City--"
+
+"The City! the dirty, smoky City for an Irish gentleman, of pure Milesian 
+blood, without Scotch or Saxon stain, and who calls himself O'Reilly too! 
+Cornelius, return to painting rather."
+
+"Kate," he replied, with an expression of pain and weariness, "this is 
+not a matter of will; I cannot paint now; my faith is dead. You may lock 
+up the studio; the easel may stand against the wall; pencil or palette 
+your brother will never handle again."
+
+"Nor shall my brother be a clerk," she said resolutely.
+
+Cornelius knit his brow and looked obstinate.
+
+"But why?" she exclaimed, impatiently; "will you just tell me why?"
+
+"You ask!" he replied, tossing on the couch, where he had again thrown 
+himself with listless indolence.
+
+"Ay, and I want to know, too, Cornelius," she said, quietly returning to 
+her chair.
+
+"Kate, when James could not marry his cousin, a plain, silly girl, why 
+did he go to London Bridge and jump over?"
+
+Miss O'Reilly jumped on her chair.
+
+"Nonsense!" she cried, reddening, "you are not going to take that leap 
+because you cannot paint pictures!"
+
+"No, but I'll do like James. I cannot have the girl I like--I'll have no 
+other. I cannot marry painting, a maid as fair as May, as rosy as June, 
+fresh as an eternal spring: and you think, Kate," he added, quite 
+indignantly, "you actually think I would wed surly law, ill-favoured 
+medicine, or any of those old ladies whom men woo for their money--no, 
+'faith!"
+
+He spoke resolutely, and sank back in his old attitude with great 
+decision.
+
+"James was a fool!" hastily said Kate.
+
+"He was; and though there is no girl can compare with painting; though 
+the love about which so much has been sung is cold and tame compared to 
+the passion which fills a true painter's heart, I am not going to drown 
+myself because the glorious gift has been denied me, and I cannot be that 
+man."
+
+He laughed rather drearily as he said it.
+
+"Yes, but you will do nothing else," replied Kate.
+
+"I can put my heart to nothing else. Daisy, why do you not bring the 
+books as usual?"
+
+I obeyed, but I could not give my attention to the lessons.
+
+"Child," impatiently said Cornelius, "what can you be thinking of?"
+
+I was thinking that he was not to be an artist; that he had given up 
+painting, fame, and fortune; and, as he put the question, I burst into 
+tears.
+
+"I understand," quietly said Cornelius: "you do not know your lessons."
+
+He closed the book, went to the piano, and sang as usual.
+
+It was plain Cornelius rejected sympathy. He showed no pity to himself, 
+and would accept none from others. If he suffered, the jealous pride of 
+youth would not let him confess it, yet we could see that he was not 
+happy. He set about looking for another situation, with the dogged sort 
+of satisfaction a man may find in choosing the rope with which he is to 
+hang himself. His pleasant face contracted a bitter expression; his good-
+humoured smile became ironical and sarcastic; he had fits of the most 
+dreary merriment; of pity he was so resentfully suspicious that we 
+scarcely dared to look at him. Three weeks had thus elapsed, when, as I 
+sat with Kate and Cornelius in the garden, I ventured, thinking him in a 
+better mood than usual, to say, in my most insinuating accents--
+
+"Cornelius, what will be the subject of your next picture?"
+
+He turned round and gave me a look so stern that I drew back half 
+frightened.
+
+"How dare you be so presuming?" said Kate, indignantly.
+
+I did not reply, but after a while I left them. I re-entered the house, 
+and stole up to the studio, there to brood in peace over what it was now 
+an offence to remember. The easel stood against the wall; the papers and 
+portfolios were covered with dust; a sketch of a group of trees--the last 
+thing on which I had seen Cornelius engaged--lay on the table unfinished, 
+but soiled with lying about. I opened one of the portfolios: it contained 
+the drawings he most valued. I took them out, and, kneeling on the floor, 
+spread them around me. Absorbed in looking at them, I never heard 
+Cornelius enter, until his voice said close to me--
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+"I was looking at these," I replied in some confusion.
+
+"Then you were taking a great liberty."
+
+I silently began to restore the drawings to the portfolio; he said 
+shortly--
+
+"They will do on the floor." And he walked across them to the window.
+
+"Cornelius," I observed, timidly, "you are standing on the head of the 
+poor Italian boy, and you are going to tread on the flower-girl."
+
+"They are only fit to burn," was his misanthropic reply.
+
+"Let me take them away," I urged.
+
+He seemed disposed to answer angrily, but he restrained himself and 
+stepped aside. I removed the drawings, carefully replaced them in the 
+portfolio, gently slipped in a few more, then stole up a glance at 
+Cornelius: he was looking down at me with a displeased face.
+
+"Lay down that portfolio," he said.
+
+"Pray don't burn them!" I exclaimed, tearfully.
+
+"Leave the room," he said, impatiently.
+
+I obeyed, but as I reached the door I saw Cornelius go to the fire-place 
+and take down the match-box. It might be to light a cigar, or make a 
+bonfire of the drawings.
+
+"Don't, pray don't," I entreated.
+
+"Don't what?" he asked, lighting the match.
+
+"Don't burn your beautiful drawings, Cornelius, pray don't."
+
+"Daisy! did I or did I not tell you to leave the room?"
+
+I stood near the door: I opened and closed it again, but unable to resist 
+the temptation of ascertaining to what fate the drawings were reserved, I 
+was stooping to look through the keyhole, when the door suddenly opened, 
+and Cornelius appeared on the threshold.
+
+"Go down at once," he said, angrily.
+
+I obeyed, and, crying with vexation and grief. I entered the parlour 
+where Kate sat sewing.
+
+"Oh, Kate!" I exclaimed through my tears, "Cornelius is burning his 
+drawings!"
+
+"Is he?" was her calm reply.
+
+"He turned me out, pray go and prevent him."
+
+"Is there a great quantity of them?" she asked.
+
+"Three large portfolios and a little one."
+
+"That must make quite a heap."
+
+"You might save a few by going now, Kate."
+
+"He will be some time about it," she musingly observed; "better delay the 
+tea a little."
+
+"Kate, they will be all burned if you don't go."
+
+"I hope he will be careful," said Miss O'Reilly, a little uneasy; "I hope 
+he will not set the chimney on fire."
+
+It was plain she would not take a step to save the drawings. I sat down 
+in the darkest corner of the room and grieved silently over this 
+miserable end to so many bright day-dreams. It was a long time before 
+Cornelius came down; he apologized for having delayed the tea.
+
+"Never mind!" said Kate, sighing. "Daisy, where are you? That child does 
+nothing but mope and fret of late."
+
+"I am here, Kate," I replied, rising.
+
+"Hand Cornelius his cup."
+
+"What is the matter with her?" he asked.
+
+"She is a foolish child," replied Miss O'Reilly.
+
+As I handed his cup to Cornelius, I saw his sister give him a look of 
+gentle pity. He smiled cheerfully; she sighed; he kindly asked what was 
+the matter.
+
+"There are hard things to be gone through," was her ambiguous reply.
+
+"Why, yes, Kate, there are."
+
+"They require a brave spirit," she continued.
+
+He looked puzzled.
+
+"But it is quite right to cut the matter short."
+
+"Kate, what has happened?"
+
+"Well, it is not an event; but I admire your courage."
+
+"My courage! in what?"
+
+"Why, in burning your drawings, of course."
+
+He bit his lip, reddened, and said gravely--
+
+"I have not been burning them, Kate."
+
+"Not burning them!" she exclaimed, with a sharp look at me.
+
+"Daisy is not to blame," quickly observed Cornelius.
+
+"Not burning them!" resumed Miss O'Reilly; "and I who kept tea waiting 
+until it was spoiled in order not to disturb you!"
+
+"Thank you all the same, Kate."
+
+"Not burning them!" she said, giving him a very suspicious look, "and 
+what were you doing up there. Cornelius?"
+
+"Finishing a little thing which I will show you to-morrow."
+
+"He's going to flirt with painting again!" desperately said Miss 
+O'Reilly, rocking herself to and fro.
+
+"I hope to go beyond flirtation, Kate."
+
+"My poor boy, don't trust her,--she is a heartless coquette."
+
+"No, Kate, she is merely coy,--a charming feminine defect that only makes 
+her more irresistibly alluring."
+
+"You have tried her once."
+
+"And failed; I must try again: faint heart never won fair lady."
+
+He spoke so gaily, he looked once more so happy, so confident, that the 
+cloud left his sister's handsome face. She checked a sigh, to say with a 
+smile--
+
+"I was a fool to trust to the vows of a man in love; that is all."
+
+"Yes," he said, resolutely, "I know I vowed to give her up a few weeks 
+ago; but now, Kate, I vow I cannot--I cannot; no man can divide himself 
+from his nature."
+
+"What will you do?" she asked.
+
+"Anything, Kate," he replied, his eyes kindling with hope and ardour; "no 
+drudgery will seem drudgery, no work too hard."
+
+I could keep in no longer. At the imminent risk of upsetting his cup, I 
+threw my arms around the neck of Cornelius, and, crying for joy, I 
+exclaimed--
+
+"Oh! I am so glad that you are to be a great artist after all--and that 
+you did not burn the Italian boy nor the poor flower-girl!"
+
+"Am I an inquisitor?" asked Cornelius, smiling.
+
+"She is as mad as he is," said Kate, shaking her head; "indeed I rather 
+think she is worse."
+
+He laughed, and, drawing me on his knee, petted me even to my craving 
+heart's content. I had not been well of late; the joyous excitement with 
+which I had learned his return to Art once over, I became listless and 
+languid. Cornelius had to remind me of the lessons; I know not how I 
+answered him, but in the very middle of them he pushed away the books, 
+said that would do, and made me sit by him on the sofa. Kate looked at me 
+a little uneasily. Cornelius was always kind, but I had never known him 
+so kind as on this evening. He read to me, sang and played, then returned 
+to the couch on which I lay, and, with a tender fondness I shall ever 
+remember, he pressed me to tell him if there was anything I should like.
+
+"Nothing, thank you," I replied, languidly.
+
+"A book?" he persisted; "no! well then a rosewood workbox--a desk? I have 
+some money, child; look."
+
+He drew out his purse and showed it to me, but I thanked him and refused.
+
+"Is there nothing you would like?" he asked.
+
+"I should like to know the subject of your next picture."
+
+"As if I should paint but one," he replied, gaily; and he proceeded to 
+describe to me, in a few graphic words, a magnificent collection of Holy 
+Families, grand historical battles, tragic stories, dewy landscapes, 
+exquisite domestic scenes, until, charmed by their variety, but rather 
+startled by their number, I exclaimed--
+
+"Cornelius, it will take a gallery to hold them all."
+
+"Let us build one then," he replied, striving to repress a smile, "and 
+whenever you feel dull, as you did this evening, we will take a walk in 
+it. Look at her, Kate," he added, addressing his sister, "don't you think 
+she seems better?"
+
+"I think," answered Kate, rather astonished, "that I never saw you lay 
+yourself out for a girl or woman, as you did this evening for that little 
+pale face. My opinion is, that the foolish way in which she goes on about 
+your pictures has won your heart."
+
+"Since you have found it out, Kate, it is useless to deny it. I am 
+waiting for Daisy. Am I not?" he added, turning to me with a smile.
+
+"No," I replied, half indignantly.
+
+"She won't have me," he said, feigning deep dejection; "ungrateful girl! 
+is it for this I have so often brought you home apples, gingerbread and 
+nuts, not harder than your heart?"
+
+Unmoved by this pathetic appeal, I persisted in rejecting Cornelius, 
+whom, even in jest, I could not consider otherwise than as my dear 
+adopted father. Miss O'Reilly settled the point by saying it was quite 
+ridiculous for little girls not yet twelve to be sitting up so late. As 
+she rose and took me by the hand, I bade Cornelius good-night. He kissed 
+me, not once, but two or three times, and so much more tenderly than 
+usual, that Kate said, smiling--
+
+"Cornelius, you are very fond of that child."
+
+"Yes, Kate, I am. Next to you, there is nothing I like half so well in 
+this world, and, somehow or other, I do not think I have ever felt fonder 
+of her than this evening."
+
+My cheek lay close to his, his heavy hair brushed my face, his eyes 
+looked into mine with something sad in their fondness. I felt how much, 
+how truly, how purely the good young man loved the child he had adopted, 
+and returning his tender embrace, I was happy even to a sense of pain.
+
+I believe in the presentiments of the heart, and I believe that on this 
+evening, and at that moment, Cornelius and I unconsciously had each ours, 
+and each, though different from the other, was destined to be fulfilled. 
+The next day Cornelius knew why he had felt so fond of me: I was 
+dangerously ill, and for days and weeks my life was despaired of.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ 
+
+That time is still to me a blank, on the vague back-ground of which stand 
+forth two vivid and distinct images. One is that of Cornelius, sitting by 
+me and holding my hand in his: the other, that of a tall, pale, and fair-
+haired lady, who stood at the foot of my bed, clad in white, calm and 
+beautiful as a vision. I had never seen her before, and I remember still 
+how vainly I tormented my poor feverish brain to make out who she was. I 
+have a vague recollection that I one day framed the question, "Who are 
+you?"
+
+"Miriam," she replied, in a voice as sweet and as cold as a silver bell, 
+and she laid her fingers on her lips, to enjoin silence. The name told me 
+nothing, but my wandering mind was too much confused to follow out any 
+train of thought. I accustomed myself to her presence, without striving 
+to know more. Another day, I remember her better still. She was standing 
+at the foot of the bed, half hidden by the white curtain. A little 
+further on, Cornelius talked to a grave-looking man, in tones which, 
+though low, awoke me from my dreamy unconsciousness.
+
+"I can give you no hope," said the physician, for such even then I knew 
+him to be: "it will end in a decline."
+
+"Oh! doctor," entreated Cornelius, "she is so young, scarcely twelve."
+
+"My dear Sir, we do not work miracles, and those excitable children--"
+
+"But my poor little Daisy is so quiet," interrupted Cornelius; "you never 
+knew such a quiet child; she will sit still for hours whilst I am drawing 
+or painting. Indeed, Sir," he added, giving the doctor an appealing look, 
+"she is the quietest little creature breathing."
+
+"Well, Sir," replied the physician, "I will not say that she cannot 
+outlive this, but she is too slight, too delicate for me to hold out much 
+hope for the future."
+
+He left. When he was gone Cornelius bent over me. "My poor little Daisy," 
+he said, in a low, sad tone,--"my poor little Daisy, I did not think you 
+would wither so very early."
+
+Two hot tears fell on my face.
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly," said a sweet voice behind him, "the child will live, you 
+love her too much, she cannot die."
+
+I looked languidly through my half-closed eyes. Miriam stood by 
+Cornelius; she had placed her hand on his shoulder; he sat half turned 
+round gazing at her with astonishment. She smiled and continued--
+
+"My child was given up three times; but I loved her; I would not let her 
+go; she stayed with me; your child too shall stay."
+
+"May God bless you at least for the prediction!" he replied in a low 
+tone, and, stooping, he laid his lips on her band; she coloured, and I 
+saw Kate, then in the act of coming in, stand still with wonder on the 
+threshold of the open door.
+
+The same day a favourable crisis took place, and when the physician 
+called again, he pronounced me out of danger. Only Kate and Cornelius 
+were present, and I shall never forget their joy; I do not think that if 
+I had been their own child they could have felt a purer and deeper 
+gladness. The happy face of Cornelius, as he bent over me and gave me a 
+kiss, was alone something to remember. I recovered rapidly; one of my 
+first requests was to be carried up to the studio, and, every precaution 
+being taken that I should not get cold, it was complied with on a 
+pleasant July morning. I looked at the picture Cornelius had begun during 
+my illness, then I asked him to place me near the open window. It 
+overlooked our garden and that of our tenant, Miss Russell, an old maiden 
+lady, of whom I had never caught more than a few distant glimpses. I was 
+accustomed to see her garden as quiet and lonely as ours, which it 
+resembled; to my surprise I now perceived a strange group. In the 
+honeysuckle bower sat two ladies; one read aloud to an old blind woman, 
+who after a while said--
+
+"That'll do for to-day, my blessed young lady."
+
+"Would you like to go in, nurse?" asked the lady very sweetly.
+
+"I think I should. You need not mind, Miss Ducky," she said, addressing 
+the other lady, "my dear young lady will do it."
+
+The lady who had read now helped the old woman to rise, and led her in 
+with great care. She soon returned alone, resumed her place, and read to 
+herself from a smaller volume. She was attired in white, and with her 
+head slightly bent, and her book on her lap, she looked as calm and still 
+as a garden statue. The other lady was very young, a mere girl, short, 
+pretty, fresh as a rose, and with glossy dark ringlets. She had been very 
+restless during the reading, and had indulged in two or three little 
+yawns. She now seemed joyous and happy at the release, and hovered around 
+the bower light and merry as a bee. There was an airy grace about her 
+little person that rendered motion as becoming to her as was repose to 
+the other lady. She skipped and started about with restless vivacity; now 
+she plucked a flower; now she stripped a shrub of its leaves; then 
+suddenly turning round, she addressed her companion in the tones of a 
+spoiled child:
+
+"Miriam, leave off reading! you won't?--take that!"
+
+She gathered a rose and threw it at her.
+
+Miriam raised her beautiful face, calm as the surface of unstirred 
+waters, and said, in a voice that rose sweetly on the air--
+
+"Child, what is it?"
+
+"Don't read."
+
+Miriam closed her book.
+
+"And come here."
+
+Miriam rose and went up to her.
+
+"How can you read so to stupid old nurse?" resumed the young girl; "I 
+don't like Baxter."
+
+"She likes it, my darling, and she is blind, and cannot read for 
+herself."
+
+"But if I were as jealous of you as you are of me," continued she whom 
+the old woman had called Ducky, "_I_ should not like it."
+
+She laid her curled head on the shoulder of the beautiful Miriam, who 
+stooped and gave her a long embrace. Then they walked up and down the 
+garden, arm in arm, talking in lower tones. I turned to ask Cornelius who 
+were the ladies, and I found that he stood behind me, looking down 
+intently.
+
+"Cornelius," I said, "did not the lady they call Miriam, come and see me 
+when I was ill?"
+
+"Yes, child," he replied, without looking at me, and returning to his 
+easel as he spoke.
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"Miss Russell, the niece of our tenant."
+
+"Who is the other one?"
+
+"Her sister."
+
+"Have they been here long, Cornelius?" 
+
+
+"They came the week you were taken ill."
+
+"Did Miss Russell come and see me often?"
+
+"Every day; one night she sat up with you."
+
+"She has not come of late, Cornelius?"
+
+"No," he replied, still without looking at me; "she came one day 
+unsought, and left off coming as soon as you were out of danger."
+
+"How good she seems to her nurse!"
+
+"She is all goodness."
+
+"And how fond of her sister!"
+
+"She is wrapt up in her."
+
+"And yet she is much more beautiful, is she not, Cornelius?" I added, 
+again looking down into the garden, where the sisters now sat in the 
+bower. Cornelius left his easel to come and look too.
+
+"Nonsense, child!" he replied, smiling, "the little one is much the 
+prettier of the two. Ask Kate," he added, as the door opened, and his 
+sister entered.
+
+"Humph," said Miss O'Reilly, on being appealed to, "your eyes are better 
+than mine, Cornelius, to see the difference at this distance; but I think 
+Miss Ducky a pretty little roly-poly thing, and her sister a fine woman, 
+though rather icy."
+
+"Roly-poly!" indignantly echoed Cornelius, "why, Kate, she is exquisitely 
+pretty!"
+
+"Don't you fear the child may take cold?" said Miss O'Reilly, coming up 
+to the window, which she closed with a mistrustful look, that seemed to 
+say to it--"I wish _you_ were not there."
+
+I spent about an hour more with Cornelius, who did his best to entertain 
+me, by talking of the gallery, then took me back to my room, where Kate 
+kept me company. I questioned her concerning Miss Russell, but learned 
+little. She supposed it was very kind of her to come, though to be sure I 
+did not want her; and cool people were often peculiar; and other things 
+which I did not understand. I asked if any one else had come.
+
+"Mr. Smalley, who has been disappointed of the Dorsetshire curacy after 
+all, and Mr. Trim came several times."
+
+"I hope Mr. Trim did not kiss me," I said, uneasily, for this amiable 
+individual still persisted in being affectionate to me.
+
+"Nonsense, child, I promise you they were more taken up in looking at 
+Miss Russell, than in thinking of you. Sleep, for they are to come this 
+evening, and I know Cornelius would like to take you down for an hour."
+
+I did my best to gratify her, and soon succeeded, and the same evening I 
+was dressed and wrapped up, or rather swathed like a mummy, said 
+Cornelius, as he carried me down in his arms. He had scarcely laid me on 
+the couch in the parlour, when Deborah announced "Miss Russell."
+
+A pretty head, with drooping ringlets, peeped in, and as suddenly 
+vanished.
+
+"Pray come in, Miss Russell," said Kate, rising.
+
+"You are engaged," lisped a soft voice behind the door.
+
+"Not at all, pray come in."
+
+"You--you are at tea, then."
+
+"We shall not have tea for an hour, pray come in."
+
+"I would rather come some other time," said the little voice, still 
+speaking from the door, but rather more faintly.
+
+"Surely my brother does not frighten you?"
+
+"Oh no," faltered the timid speaker, in a tone that said, "Oh dear yes, 
+precisely."
+
+Kate rose and walked to the door. We heard a giggle, a little suppressed 
+denial, and finally saw Miss O'Reilly re-enter the parlour and lead in 
+the bashful creature. Miss Ducky was in a state of bewitching confusion 
+and under-her-breath modesty. "She came to know how the little girl was--
+so glad she was well again. Sit down! Oh no, she would rather be 
+excused."
+
+She spoke with girlish fluency of easy speech, with many a gentle toss of 
+the glossy curls, and glancing of the bright dark eyes that looked 
+everywhere save in the direction of Cornelius. Kate was vainly pressing 
+her to sit down, when the fair creature was further alarmed by the 
+entrance of Mr. Smalley and Mr. Trim. In her confusion she flew to the 
+bow window instead of the door--"was astonished at the mistake--so 
+absurd--quite stupid, you know," and stood there blushing most 
+charmingly, when Kate at length persuaded her to sit down. By this time I 
+had received the congratulations of Mr. Smalley and Mr. Trim, both of 
+whom looked with some interest and curiosity at Miss Ducky.
+
+There never was such a little flirt. The introduction was scarcely over 
+when she attacked Mr. Trim with a look, Mr. Smalley with a smile, and 
+Cornelius with look, smile, and speech, and having thus hooked them, she 
+went on with the three to her own evident enjoyment and delight. Mr. 
+Trim, whom the ladies had not accustomed to such favours, seemed 
+exulting, and indulged in the most unbounded admiration. After warning 
+Miss Ducky that she need not mind him, he edged his chair nearer to hers, 
+and peering in her face, asked to know the number of hearts she had 
+broken.
+
+"I broke a cornelian heart the other day," she replied, demurely; "I was 
+so sorry."
+
+"Could it not be mended?" innocently asked Mr. Smalley.
+
+"I don't know," she answered, childishly, "I did not try; I used to wear 
+it round my neck--it is in a drawer now."
+
+"Poor heart!" compassionately said Cornelius.
+
+She laughed, and gaily shook her curls, but suddenly became as mute as a 
+mouse, and, with the frightened glance of a child taken at fault, she 
+looked at the door, on the threshold of which her sister now stood 
+unannounced.
+
+Miriam entered quietly, passing by Cornelius and me without giving either 
+a look, and apologized to Kate for her intrusion; but Miss Ducky had, it 
+seemed, been suddenly missed, to the great alarm of her relatives, whom 
+the sound of her voice next door had alone relieved from their painful 
+apprehensions. Miss Ducky heard all this with downcast eyes and a 
+penitent face, and stood ready to follow her sister, who had 
+pertinaciously refused to take a seat. Mr. Trim seemed rather anxious to 
+detain them, and, bending forward with his hands on his knees to catch a 
+look of Miriam's beautiful face, he said--
+
+"Your sister, Ma'am, was telling us of the hearts--"
+
+"I only spoke of the cornelian," interrupted Ducky, looking alarmed.
+
+Miriam looked through Mr. Trim with her calm blue eyes, bade Miss 
+O'Reilly good evening, smiled at Mr. Smalley, who coloured, then leading 
+away her sister, she again passed by Cornelius and me with a chilling 
+bend of the head.
+
+"Pretty girl!" said Mr. Trim, shutting his eyes as the door closed upon 
+them.
+
+"Has she not very classical features?" observed Mr. Smalley, seeming 
+surprised.
+
+"Oh, you mean the fair one," sneered Mr. Trim. "It is very well for you, 
+Smalley, a clergyman, to admire a girl who is as proud as Lucifer, just 
+because she has a Greek nose--"
+
+"I admire Miss Russell," interrupted Mr Smalley, reddening, "because the 
+first time I saw her she was fulfilling that precept of our Divine Lord, 
+which enjoins that the sick shall be visited and the afflicted 
+comforted."
+
+"Every man to his taste," replied Mr. Trim. "I like that pretty little 
+thing best, and so would Cornelius, if he were not such a confirmed 
+woman-hater. Ha! ha!"
+
+"I hope not," said Mr. Smalley, looking with mild surprise at Cornelius, 
+who did not repel the accusation, but seemed absorbed in my request of 
+being taken upstairs again. I was still weak, and the talking made my 
+head ache. I bade our two visitors good-night, and again had to resist 
+Mr. Trim's attempt to embrace me. I believe he knew how much I disliked 
+his ugly face, and would have found a malicious pleasure--I now acquit 
+him of caring for the kiss--in compelling mine to endure its proximity. 
+As I saw it bend towards me, grinning, I screamed, and took refuge in the 
+arms of Cornelius, who said, a little impatiently--
+
+"Do let that child alone, Trim."
+
+Mr. Trim went back to his chair, saying, mournfully, "he never had luck 
+with the ladies, whereas Cornelius, being a handsome, dashing young 
+fellow, and Smalley rather wild--a thing women always liked--"
+
+I lost the rest, for Cornelius, who was carrying me out of the room, shut 
+the door, muttering something in which "Trim" and "insolence" were all I 
+could hear distinctly.
+
+Two days after this, I was well enough to be carried down to the garden 
+in the arms of Cornelius, who sacrificed an hour of daylight to sitting 
+by me on the bench. It was a warm and pleasant noon, and I was enjoying 
+the delightful sense of existence which recovery from illness yields, 
+when Miriam Russell suddenly appeared before us. She always had a 
+noiseless step and had come down the steps from the porch so quietly that 
+we had never heard her. I saw the blood rush to the brow of Cornelius, 
+and felt the hand which mine clasped, tremble slightly. Miss Russell 
+looked very calm; she asked me how I was; I replied. "Very well," and 
+thanked her, in a low tone. Her statue-like beauty repelled the very idea 
+of familiarity; her white chiselled features had the purity and coldness 
+of sculptured marble; her face was faultless in outline, but it was too 
+colourless, and her eyes, though fine and clear, were of a blue too pale. 
+She gave me a careless look, then said to Cornelius, after refusing to be 
+seated--
+
+"You have kept your child."
+
+"She is still very weak."
+
+"Never mind, she will grow like my child yet."
+
+Cornelius liked me too well not to be partial.
+
+"Yes, she would be pretty if she were not so pale," he replied.
+
+"You spoil her, do you not?" asked Miriam.
+
+"Kate says so. Do I spoil you, Daisy?"
+
+I said "Yes," and half hid my face on his shoulder, whence I looked at 
+Miriam, who smiled, as if the fondness of Cornelius for me, and mine for 
+him, gave her pleasure to see.
+
+"She spoils me, but she won't let me have my way," said a soft lisping 
+voice from the porch. We looked, and saw Miss Ducky's pretty curled head 
+bending forward and looking at us. Her sister's whole face underwent a 
+change on seeing her.
+
+"But then she's so jealous," continued Ducky, pouting, "I hope you are 
+not jealous of Daisy."
+
+"Foolish child!" said Miriam, striving to smile.
+
+"But then she's very fond of me," resumed Ducky, smiling; "when Doctor 
+Johnson, stupid man, said I could not live, she was nearly distracted. 
+Silly of her, was it not, Mr. O'Reilly?"
+
+Her look so pertinaciously sought his that he could scarcely have avoided 
+looking at her. She was very pretty thus in the gloom of the porch, and 
+he smiled at her fresh young beauty. I saw Miriam glance uneasily from 
+one to the other, then a cloud gathered on her brow. She bade us a sudden 
+adieu, went up to her sister, and led her away, spite of her evident 
+reluctance. Cornelius continued to look like one entranced on the spot 
+where Miriam had lately stood; I was but a child, yet I knew he was now 
+listening to the sweet and delusive voice of passion, unheeded during the 
+earlier years of his youth, and enchanting him at last. I was watching 
+his face attentively: he looked down, met my glance, and said quietly--
+
+"Confess Miss Ducky is much prettier than her sister."
+
+If he wanted me to contradict, he was disappointed.
+
+"Yes, Cornelius," I replied, "she is."
+
+"I thought you admired Miriam most," he said a little shortly.
+
+"I did not know then she had green eyes."
+
+This was true: the hue of Miriam's eyes, of a blue verging on green, was 
+the fault of her face; I had been quick to detect it; Cornelius reddened 
+and never broached the subject again.
+
+Miriam came no more near us, and kept such good watch on her young 
+sister, that we never had the opportunity of again comparing them 
+together. Strange and sad to say, as autumn opened, the young girl 
+sickened and in a few weeks died in the arms of her sister, childish and 
+unconscious to the last. Miss O'Reilly and I watched the funeral leaving 
+the house; as I saw it pass by, I felt as if Death, baulked of one prey 
+and unwilling to leave our dwelling unsated, had seized on her, and I 
+startled Kate by observing--
+
+"Kate, don't you think poor Miss Ducky died instead of me?"
+
+"Bless the child!" exclaimed Kate, turning pale; "never say that again."
+
+But the fancy had taken hold of me, and, unless I am much deceived, of 
+another too. Weeks elapsed before we saw anything of the bereaved sister. 
+We heard that, wrapt in her grief, she remained for days locked in her 
+room, and there brooded over her loss, rejecting consolation with scorn, 
+and indulging in passionate mourning. Kate blamed this excessive sorrow; 
+her brother never uttered one word of praise or blame.
+
+Though my health was much improved, I was still delicate and subject to 
+attacks of languor. One evening, Kate, seeing me scarcely able to sit up, 
+wanted me to go to bed; but Cornelius had been out all day, I wished to 
+await his return, so I went to the back-parlour, reclined on a couch, and 
+there fell asleep.
+
+I was partly awakened by the sound of voices talking earnestly in the 
+next room, of which the door stood half open. I listened, still half 
+asleep: one of the voices was that of Cornelius, passionately entreating; 
+the other that of Miriam, coldly denying and accusing him of infidelity 
+to the dead, whilst with ardent warmth he protested that she alone had 
+been mistress of his thoughts. I sat up on the couch amazed and 
+confounded. My room was dark, they could not see me, but I could see 
+them. Miriam sat by the table, clad in deep mourning; Cornelius by her, 
+with his face averted from me; he held her hand in his, still entreating; 
+she said nothing, but she no longer denied. He raised her hand to his 
+lips unreproved; whilst a bright rosy hue, that seemed too ardent for a 
+blush, passed over her face, late so pale with grief.
+
+I sank back on my couch, frightened at having heard and seen what had 
+never been meant for my ear or sight; but I could not help it; I could 
+not leave the room where I was, without breaking in upon them; twice I 
+rose to do so, but each time my courage failed me. So I kept quiet, and 
+stopping my ears with my fingers, did my best not to hear. I could not 
+however help catching words now and then, and once I heard Miriam 
+saying--
+
+"Do you know why I, who never thought of you before this last hour, now 
+wish to love you?--Because you are so unlike me."
+
+What Cornelius replied I know not. Soon after this Miss Russell left. 
+Cornelius had followed her to the door. He returned to the parlour, and 
+throwing himself on the sofa, he there fell into a smiling reverie.
+
+I softly left my couch, entered the parlour, and quietly sat down on a 
+cushion at his feet. Cornelius looked as if he could not believe his 
+eyes, then slowly sat up, and bent on me a face that darkened as he 
+looked.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ 
+
+"Where do you come from?" he asked. 
+
+"From the next room." 
+
+"Have you been there long?" 
+
+"The whole evening." 
+
+"I thought you were upstairs sleeping?" 
+
+"No, Cornelius, I was lying on the couch." 
+
+"And you have just awakened, I suppose?" he carelessly observed, but with 
+his look bent keenly on my face. I answered in a faltering tone--
+
+"I have been awake some time."
+
+"Before Miss Russell left?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+The blood rushed up to his brow.
+
+"You listened?" he exclaimed, with a wrathful glance.
+
+"I heard, Cornelius," I replied, unwilling to lose the distinction, "and 
+heard as little as I could."
+
+"Heard!" he indignantly echoed. "Upon my word! and why did you hear? Why 
+did you not leave the room?"
+
+"Twice I rose to do so; I made a noise on purpose; but you did not hear 
+me, and I did not dare to disturb you."
+
+Cornelius did not say which of the two evils--being disturbed or 
+overheard by me--he would have preferred. I sat at his feet, wistfully 
+looking up into his face. It was always expressive, and now told very 
+plainly his annoyance and vexation. It would scarcely have been in the 
+nature of mortal man, not to resent the presence of a witness on so 
+interesting and delicate an occasion.
+
+"I never heard anything like it," he exclaimed, indignantly. "I am fond 
+of you, Daisy, but you do not imagine I ever contemplated taking you--a 
+little girl too--into my confidence, as twice I have been compelled to 
+do. What do you mean by it?" he added, with a perplexed and provoked air, 
+that to a looker-on might have been amusing.
+
+"I mean nothing, Cornelius."
+
+"Foolish child," he continued, impatiently, "not to stay on your couch, 
+and let me fancy you had slept through it!"
+
+"But that would have been a great shame," I replied very earnestly; "I 
+came out on purpose that you might know."
+
+"Thank you!" he said drily.
+
+"I shall not tell," I observed, in a low tone.
+
+"It is to be no secret," he shortly answered.
+
+I had no more to say. Cornelius rose impatiently, walked about the room, 
+came back to his place, and still looked unable to get over the 
+irritating consciousness of having been overheard.
+
+I rose to go; he suddenly detained me.
+
+"Stay," he said, with a profound sigh, "it is most provoking--the more 
+especially as there is no dipping you into Lethe--but '_Hon[n]i soit qui 
+mal y pense_.' I did not say one word of which I need be ashamed, and as 
+to its being a little ridiculous--why, it is very odd if a man cannot 
+afford to be ridiculous now and then--eh, Daisy?"
+
+He gave me an odd look, half shy, half amused. He could not help enjoying 
+a joke, even though it might be at his own expense.
+
+"Then you are not vexed with me, Cornelius?" I asked, looking up.
+
+"Not a bit," he replied, smiling with perfect good-humour; "I acquit you 
+of wilful indiscretion, my poor child; I should have shut the door--but 
+one cannot think of everything."
+
+He had laid his hand on my shoulder. I turned round and pressed my lips 
+to it, for the first time, scarce knowing why I gave him the token of 
+love and homage he had yielded to Miriam. It is thus in life; we are 
+perpetually bestowing on those who give back again, but rarely to us. 
+Every trace of vexation passed away from the face of Cornelius; he made 
+room for me by his side, and as I sat there in my familiar attitude, he 
+shook back his hair, and observed, with philosophic coolness--
+
+"After all, she would have known it to-morrow; only," he added, a little 
+uneasily, "I think there is no necessity to let Miriam suspect anything 
+of all this: you understand, Daisy?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius," I replied submissively.
+
+He smiled.
+
+"What a docile tone! Do you know, my pet, it is almost a pity there is 
+not some romantic mystery in this matter; how discreet you would be! how 
+you would carry letters or convey messages! but your good offices will 
+never be needed."
+
+He spoke gaily; I tried to smile, but he little knew how my heart was 
+aching.
+
+"I suppose, Cornelius, you will marry Miss Russell," I observed after 
+awhile.
+
+He smiled again.
+
+"Soon, Cornelius?" He sighed and shook his head.
+
+"Will you still live in this house?"
+
+"Provided Miriam does not think it too small," he replied with a 
+perplexed air, "but by uniting it to the next-door house, it would be 
+quite large enough. Then I could have the upper part of both houses with 
+a sky-light,--much better than a place in town; besides, I shall want her 
+to sit to me--eh, Daisy?"
+
+He turned to me; my face was partly averted from his gaze, or he must 
+have read there the sharp and jealous torment every word he uttered 
+awakened within me. Who was this stranger, that had stepped in between 
+Cornelius and me, whose thought absorbed all his thoughts, whose image 
+effaced every other image, who already made her supposed wishes his law, 
+already snatched from me my most delightful and exclusive privileges? He 
+seemed waiting for a reply; I compelled myself to answer--
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+"For our gallery, you know," he continued.
+
+I did not reply; I felt sick and faint. He stooped and looked into my 
+face with utter unconsciousness in his.
+
+"How pale you look, my little girl!" he said, with concern; "and you are 
+feverish too. Go up to your room."
+
+He bade me good-night, and kissed me two or three times with unusual 
+warmth and tenderness. Jealousy is all quickness of spirit and of sense. 
+I reluctantly endured caresses which I knew not to be mine; if I dared, I 
+would have repelled those overflowings of a heart in whose joy and 
+delight I had not the faintest part. Sweeter, dearer to me was the quiet, 
+careless kiss I was accustomed to get, than all this tenderness springing 
+from love to another. I was glad when Cornelius released me from his 
+embrace; glad to leave him; glad to go upstairs and be wretched in 
+liberty.
+
+Never since Sarah had told me that my father was going to marry Miss 
+Murray, had I felt as I now felt. The grief I had passed through after 
+his death was more mighty, but it did not, like this, attack the 
+existence of love and sting it in its very heart. Cornelius married to 
+Miriam Russell, parted from us in the sweet communion of daily life, 
+living with her in another home, painting his pictures for her and with 
+her sitting to him or looking on,--alas! where should I be then?--was a 
+thought so bitter, so tormenting, that it worked me into a fever, which 
+fed eagerly on the jealousy that had given it birth.
+
+Gone was the time when I stood next to Kate in his heart, and my loss was 
+the gain of her whom I had heard him making the aim of his future, the 
+hope and joy of his life. His love for her might not exclude calmer 
+affections, but it cast them beneath at an immeasurable distance. I could 
+not bear this. I was jealous by temper and by long habit. My father had 
+accustomed me to the dangerous sweetness of being loved ardently and 
+without a rival; and though I had not expected so much from Cornelius, 
+yet slowly, patiently, by loving him to an excess, I had made him love me 
+too; and now it was all labour lost: she had reached at once the heart 
+towards which I had toiled so long, and won without effort the exclusive 
+affection it was hard not to win, but utter misery to see bestowed on 
+another.
+
+The manner of Kate on the following morning showed me she knew nothing; 
+breakfast was scarcely over when she rather solemnly said to her 
+brother--
+
+"Cornelius, what did you do to that child whilst I was out yesterday?"
+
+He stood by the fire-place, looking down at the glowing embers and 
+smiling at his own thoughts; he woke from his reverie, shook his head, 
+opened his eyes, and looked up astonished.
+
+"I have done nothing to her, Kate," he replied, simply.
+
+"She has been crying herself to sleep, though!"
+
+I had, and I heard her with dismay; he gave me a keen look.
+
+"Her nerves are weak," he suggested.
+
+"Nonsense! did you ever know a fair-haired, dark-eyebrowed man or woman 
+to have weak nerves?"
+
+"I know dark eyebrows are a rare charm for a blonde."
+
+"Nonsense! charm!--I tell you it is an indication of character--of energy 
+and wilfulness. It is all very well for the fair, meek hair to say, 'Oh! 
+I'm so quiet;' I say the dark, passionate brow tells me another story, 
+and as Daisy never cries without a reason, I should like to know what she 
+has been crying about."
+
+"Her health affects her spirits, that is all," hastily replied Cornelius; 
+"come up with me, Daisy, it will cheer you."
+
+I obeyed reluctantly. It was some time however before Cornelius took any 
+notice of me. He stood looking at a study for a larger picture begun 
+during my illness. It represented poor children playing on a common, and 
+was to be called "The Happy Time."
+
+"And don't they look happy?" observed Cornelius, turning to me with a 
+smile.
+
+He was perhaps struck with the fact that the child he addressed did not 
+look a very happy one, for, with the abruptness of a thing suddenly 
+remembered, he said--
+
+"By the bye, what did you cry for, Daisy?"
+
+I hung down my head and did not reply.
+
+"Did you hear me?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+"Then answer, child."
+
+I did not; he looked astonished.
+
+"Answer," he said again.
+
+I felt myself turning red and pale, but to tell him I was jealous of 
+Miriam Russell! no, I could not; the confession was too bitter, too 
+humiliating.
+
+"Daisy," he said, "I shall get angry."
+
+I stood by him obstinately mute. I looked up at him with a dreary, 
+sorrowful gaze; he frowned and bit his lip. I summoned all my courage to 
+bear his coming wrath; to my dismay he chucked my chin, and said with 
+careless good humour--
+
+"As if I should not be fond of you all the same, you jealous little 
+thing!"
+
+And with the smile which he no longer repressed he turned away whistling 
+"Love's young dream." Vexed and mortified to the quick, I burst into 
+tears; Cornelius turned round and showed me an astonished face.
+
+"Nonsense!" he exclaimed, laughing incredulously, "you never can be 
+crying, Daisy!"
+
+The laugh, the gay, careless tone exasperated me. I turned to the door to 
+fly somewhere out of his sight; he caught me back and lifted me up. In 
+vain I resisted; with scarcely an effort he mastered me and laughed again 
+at my unavailing efforts to escape. Breathless with my recent resistance, 
+irritated by my subjection, I lay in his arms mute and sullen. He bent 
+his amused face over mine.
+
+"You are an odd little girl," he said, with the most provoking good-
+humour, looking with his merry brown eyes into mine, that were still 
+heavy with tears, and speaking gaily, as if my jealousy, anger, and 
+weeping were but a jest; "I suppose you object to my marrying--well, 
+that's a pity--but it is all your fault! You know I wanted to wait for 
+you, only you would not hear of it, so I naturally got desperate and 
+looked out elsewhere."
+
+With this, and as if to humble and mortify me to the last, he stooped to 
+embrace me. In vain, burning and indignant, I averted my face; he only 
+laughed and kissed me two or three times more. To be thus gently 
+ridiculed, laughed at, and kissed, was more than I could bear. I 
+submitted, but with a bursting heart, that betrayed itself by ill-
+repressed sobs and tears. Cornelius saw this was more than childish 
+pettishness: "Daisy!" he exclaimed, with concern, and he put me down at 
+once.
+
+There was a little couch close by; I threw myself upon it, and hid in the 
+pillow my shame and my grief. He said and did all he could to pacify me; 
+but when I looked up a little soothed, it stung me to read in his eyes 
+the smile his lips repressed. The folly of a child of my age in presuming 
+to be jealous of his beautiful Miriam, was evidently irresistibly 
+amusing. My tears and my sobs ceased at once. I locked in the poignant 
+feelings which could win no sympathy even from him who caused them. I 
+listened with downcast eyes to his consolations, and apathetically 
+submitted to his caresses. But Cornelius, satisfied that it was all 
+right, chid me gently for having made him lose "ten precious minutes," 
+gave me a last kiss, and returned to his easel. At once I rose and said--
+
+"May I go downstairs?"
+
+"Of course," he replied; but he looked surprised at the unusual request.
+
+I remained below all day. When after tea I brought out my books as usual, 
+Cornelius very coolly said--
+
+"My dear, Kate will hear you this evening."
+
+He took his hat and left us. As the door closed upon him, Miss O'Reilly 
+shook her head and poked the fire pensively. I saw she knew all. Once or 
+twice she sighed rather deeply, but subduing this she observed with 
+forced cheerfulness--
+
+"Well. Daisy, let us go through those lessons."
+
+We did go through them, but with strange inattentiveness on either side.
+
+"Nonsense, child!" impatiently exclaimed Kate; "why do you keep stopping 
+and listening so, it is only Cornelius singing next door; what about it?"
+
+What about it? nothing, of course; and yet you too, Kate, stopped often 
+in your questioning to catch the tones of your brother's gay and 
+harmonious voice; you, too, guessed that the time when he could feel 
+happy to stay at home and sing to you was for ever gone by; you, too, 
+when the lessons were over, sadly looked at his vacant place, and felt 
+how far now was he whose song and whose laughter resounded from the next 
+house. Oh, Love! invader of the heart, pitiless destroyer of its sweetest 
+ties, for two hearts whom thou makest blest in delightful union, how many 
+dost thou wound and divide asunder!
+
+We had thought to spend the evening alone, but a strange chance, not 
+without sad significance, brought us an unexpected visitor; the Reverend 
+Morton Smalley called, for once unaccompanied by Mr. Trim. He was more 
+gentle and charming than ever. He expressed himself very sorry not to see 
+Cornelius, whom he evidently thought absent on some laborious errand, for 
+looking at Kate in his benignant way over his spotless neckcloth and 
+through his bright gold spectacles, he earnestly begged "she would not 
+allow her brother to work so very hard."
+
+She shook her head and smiled a little sadly.
+
+"I fear Art absorbs him completely," gravely said Mr. Smalley.
+
+"Oh dear no!" sighed Kate.
+
+"We were never intended to lead a purely intellectual life," continued 
+our guest, bending slightly forward, and raising his fore-finger with 
+mild conviction, "and I fear your brother, Ma'am, is too much given to 
+what I may venture to term the abstract portion of life: life has very 
+lovely and tender realities."
+
+Kate poked the fire impatiently.
+
+"And then he works too hard," pensively continued Mr. Smalley, returning 
+to his old idea that Cornelius was engaged on some arduous task: "why not 
+give himself one evening's relaxation?"
+
+I sat apart on a low stool, unheeded and silent; I know not what impulse 
+made me look up in the face of our guest and say earnestly--
+
+"Cornelius is gone to see Miss Miriam."
+
+Mr. Smalley started like a man who has received an electric shock. He 
+looked at me, at Kate; her face gave sorrowful confirmation of all he 
+could suspect and dread. He said not a word, but turned very pale.
+
+"Mr. Smalley," said Kate, "have a glass of wine."
+
+He did not answer, he had not heard her; like one in a troubled dream, he 
+passed his handkerchief across his moist brow and trembling lips. He made 
+an effort to look more composed, as Kate handed him the glass of wine 
+which she had poured out. He took it from her, smiled a faint ghastly 
+smile, and said--
+
+"I wish our friend every happiness."
+
+But he could not drink his own pledge. He raised the glass to his lips, 
+laid it down as if it were poison, rose, pressed the hand of Miss 
+O'Reilly, and left us abruptly.
+
+"Daisy," severely said Kate, "go up to your room." I obeyed, to spend 
+another wretched night, not sleepless, but feverish dreams and sudden 
+wakenings.
+
+I did not go near Cornelius on the following day. Of this he took no 
+notice, and again went out in the evening. I saw him depart with a sharp 
+jealous pang. Ere long we heard him laughing next door.
+
+"Just listen to him!" said Kate, smiling, "is he not enjoying himself! 
+God bless him! that boy always had a gay laugh. Ah! many's the time, 
+when, though I scarcely knew how to provide for the morrow, that laugh 
+has made my heart light and hopeful--God bless him!"
+
+On the next evening Miriam called. She entered the room quietly, sat down 
+on the sofa, took a book from the table, looked listlessly over it, and 
+spoke calmly as if nothing had occurred. Both she and Kate were more 
+civil than cordial. Cornelius sat by Miss Russell. There was still a 
+place vacant by him; it had always been mine; I took it and gently laid 
+my head on his shoulder. As I did so, I met the glance of Miriam. She had 
+not seen me until then: she started, turned pale, and, as if she resented 
+that I, the weak sickly child, should still live, whilst her fair young 
+sister lay cold in the grave, she said--
+
+"How unwell that child looks!--but perhaps it is only because she is so 
+sallow."
+
+Childhood is fatally quick in catching the spirit of contest. I reddened, 
+looked at her, and suddenly pressed my lips to the cheek of Cornelius, 
+conscious this was more than she dare do.
+
+"Be quiet, child!" he said a little impatiently.
+
+I gave him a look of keen reproach; he did not heed it; his eyes were 
+again bent on Miriam; he was again absorbed in her. The child whom he had 
+petted and caressed evening after evening, for two years, was now 
+forgotten as if she had never existed.
+
+"Daisy," said Kate, "come and help me to wind this skein."
+
+She saw my misery, and did this to give me a pretence to leave them; but 
+I would not yield. As soon as the skein was wound, I returned to my place 
+by Cornelius; for two hours I persisted in staying there, vainly striving 
+to win a caress, a word, a look. Alas! he did not even know I was by him. 
+He was talking to Miriam of a new piece of music, and said--
+
+"I shall tell Daisy to look it out for you to-morrow."
+
+"Daisy is here," replied Miss Russell, "by you."
+
+He turned round astonished, and exclaimed--
+
+"Why, so she is!"
+
+To be so near him and yet so far apart, was too great a torment. My heart 
+swelled as if it would burst. Stung at his cruel indifference, I rose, 
+and without looking back I went up to Kate, sat down on the lowly cushion 
+at her feet, and thus silently relinquished the place which had been mine 
+so long.
+
+Miriam Russell was now acknowledged as the betrothed of Cornelius. She 
+was twenty-six, and independent both in her means and in her actions. Her 
+aunt declared "that she had made a very bad match, and that she was 
+throwing herself away on a handsome, penniless Irishman, whose artful 
+sister was at the bottom of it all."
+
+This speech was repeated to Miss O'Reilly, and brought on a great 
+coolness between her and her tenant. Kate resented especially the 
+reflection on her brother. Without letting him know what suggested the 
+remark, she observed to him in my presence--and it was the only comment 
+on his engagement I ever heard her make--
+
+"Cornelius, Miss Russell has some property, but I trust you will not 
+think of marriage before you have won a position."
+
+"No, indeed," he replied, reddening, and throwing back his head half 
+indignantly.
+
+I now never went near Cornelius unless when sent by Kate. At first I had 
+hoped he would miss me, but sufficient companionship to him was the 
+charmed presence which haunts the lover's solitude; he asked not why I 
+staid away, and pride forbade me to return. 
+
+
+
+Passion had seized on him, and she absorbed all his faculties save one: 
+he remained faithful to Art. He was a most enamoured lover, but not even 
+for his mistress did he leave his easel, or lose an hour of daylight. She 
+did not put him to a test, of which it was plain that, of his own accord, 
+he would never dream. Every moment he could spare he gave to her; evening 
+after evening he handed over my lessons to Kate, and left us to go next-
+door: he was still kind, but somehow or other the charm had departed from 
+his kindness.
+
+Several weeks had thus elapsed, when Miriam was suddenly summoned to the 
+sick bed of an aged relative, who dwelt in a retired village twenty miles 
+away. Cornelius seemed to feel this first separation very much. He sighed 
+deeply when the hour struck that usually led him to his beloved, opened 
+his cigar-case, and smoked what, if he had used a pipe, might have been 
+termed the calumet of sorrow. But he was not one of those inveterate 
+smokers who, from the clouds they raise around them, can look down on the 
+tribulations of this world with Olympic serenity. When his cigar was out, 
+he brought forth no other, and half sat on the sofa with a most _ennuy?_ 
+aspect. Kate had gone up to her room, complaining of a bad headache. I 
+sat reading by her vacant chair, in that place which had become the type 
+of my altered destiny.
+
+"Daisy!" all at once said Cornelius.
+
+I looked up.
+
+"Come here," he continued.
+
+I rose and obeyed, and, standing before him, waited to hear what he had 
+to say to me. He said nothing, but stretched out his arm and drew me on 
+his knee, smiling as he met my startled look, and felt my heart beating 
+against the arm that encircled me.
+
+"Are you afraid?" he asked.
+
+"Oh no, Cornelius," I replied, but I felt astonished and happy at this 
+unexpected return of kindness; so happy that, ashamed of it, I hid my 
+face on his shoulder. He laughed because I would not look up, kissed my 
+averted cheek, and finally compelled my burning face and overflowing eyes 
+to meet his gaze.
+
+"How perverse you have been!" he said, chidingly; "I don't know what 
+tempted me to take any notice of you again; I am too fond of you, you 
+jealous, sulky little creature."
+
+His old affection seemed to have returned in all its warmth; his look had 
+the old meaning, his voice the old familiar accent, his manner more than 
+the old tenderness. When I saw myself again so near him, again petted, 
+caressed, loved, how could I but forget Miriam, the past and the future, 
+to yield to the irresistible charm of the moment? Oh! why was he so 
+imprudently kind? Why, when I was growing almost accustomed to his 
+indifference, almost resigned, did he unconsciously destroy the slow 
+labour of weeks, and sow for us both the seed of future torment? But I 
+thought not of that then, nor did he. If I was glad to be once more near 
+him, I saw in his face--and it was that undid me--that he was glad to 
+have back again the child of whom he had for more than two years been so 
+fond. He caressed me as after a long separation, and smoothing my hair, 
+asked the question he had often put to me during my lingering illness--
+
+"What shall we talk about?"
+
+"The Gallery," was my prompt reply.
+
+"Will you never tire of it, my darling?"
+
+"Never, Cornelius."
+
+"Well, I have been making an addition to it lately: a Gipsy couple in a 
+green lane--the husband lying idly on the grass--his dark-eyed wife 
+cooking."
+
+"And the child?"
+
+"There is none; for I speak of a real Gipsy couple who are to come to sit 
+to me to-morrow, but who have no child."
+
+"Could not I do, Cornelius?"
+
+"Do you, with your fair hair, look like a little Gipsy?"
+
+"I might be a stolen child, Cornelius."
+
+"So you might!" cried Cornelius, his whole face lighting up at the idea; 
+"why, it is an excellent, an admirable subject! What a tender and 
+pathetic contrast!--they the type of rude animal enjoyment and power, 
+you, like divine Una among the Satyrs, a meek and intellectual captive. A 
+sketch! I shall make a picture of it--a fine picture--a great picture, 
+please God."
+
+He rose, and walked about the room quite excited; his eyes had kindled 
+and burned with inward light; his face glowed with triumph. Once he 
+paused, and with his fore-finger rapidly traced on the air lines which 
+had already struck his fancy for the arrangement of the group; then he 
+came back to me and gravely said--
+
+"I see it, Daisy; it is painted, finished, and hung in the great room; in 
+the meanwhile let us discuss the particulars."
+
+We discussed them, or rather Cornelius spoke, and I approved 
+unconditionally every word he uttered, until, to our common astonishment, 
+the clock struck eleven. As he bade me good-night, Cornelius laid his 
+hand on my head, and said, admiringly--
+
+"You clever little thing to have thought of it! no wonder I am fond of 
+you; but do you know you will have to dress in rags, like a poor little 
+drudge?"
+
+"As if I minded it, Cornelius!" I quickly replied.
+
+He smiled and kissed me very kindly. I went up to my room, to be as 
+restless and wakeful with joy as I had not so long ago been with bitter 
+grief.
+
+Early the next morning I stole up to the studio. Cornelius was already at 
+work; he never looked round as I entered, but observed, with a smile--
+
+"So you have at length found your way up here?"
+
+I did not answer.
+
+"What kept you away so long?" he continued.
+
+"I thought you did not want me."
+
+"Did I ever want you?"
+
+"No, that is true."
+
+"Then why do you come now?"
+
+"Shall I go away, Cornelius?"
+
+He turned round smiling.
+
+"Look at them," he said, nodding towards an open portfolio, "you have not 
+seen them yet."
+
+He alluded to several sketches of a child in various attitudes, intended 
+for the "Happy Time."
+
+"I have seen them, Cornelius," I replied.
+
+"And when, if you please?"
+
+"I came up the other day when you were out. Pray do not be vexed, but I 
+could not bear any longer not to see what you were doing."
+
+Vexed! oh, he did not look vexed at all with this proof of my constant 
+admiration. Flattery is so sweet, so subtle, so intoxicating. All he said 
+was--
+
+"Well, which do you prefer?"
+
+I luckily hit on the very sketch he himself approved.
+
+"That child has a great deal of judgment," he observed, with thoughtful 
+satisfaction: "I could trust to her opinion as to my own: it is the best, 
+of course it is. There, put them all away; you have always kept my things 
+in order for me until lately; see the mess in which they now are."
+
+So they were, in a most artistic confusion, which I remedied with great 
+alacrity. When we went down to breakfast, Kate, who had seen with 
+pleasure that I had not of late been so much with her brother, asked, 
+with some asperity, "if I was again going to settle myself upstairs."
+
+"Precisely," replied Cornelius, and with great ardour and enthusiasm he 
+told her of his intended picture. "Such an admirable subject,--not at all 
+so commonplace as the 'Happy Time.'"
+
+Miss O'Reilly was horrified at the prospect of Gipsy sitters, and 
+prophesied the utter ruin of her household. Cornelius laughed at her 
+fears, and promised to keep such strict watch that no disaster could 
+possibly occur. The Gipsy couple came the same day--a wild, restless-
+looking pair, who tried to the utmost the patience of Cornelius, and gave 
+me many an odd, shy look as they saw me take my attitude, in the costume, 
+more picturesque than attractive, of an old brown skirt, torn and made 
+ragged for the purpose; a shabby bodice; my hair loose and tangled, and 
+my neck, arms, and feet bare. They were very wilful, too, and had on the 
+subject of attitudes ideas which differed materially from those of 
+Cornelius. At length the group was formed, and in this first sitting he 
+could take a rapid sketch of it, "just to fix the idea of it in his 
+mind," he observed to Kate at tea-time; "they were a little restless for 
+the first time, but I have no doubt we shall get on very well, though you 
+looked rather afraid of that swarthy fellow, Daisy."
+
+"I did not like his eyes--nor those of his wife either, Cornelius."
+
+"Why, there is a tea-spoon missing," hastily observed Kate, who had been 
+holding a conference at the door with Deborah; "you had not one in the 
+studio, had you, Cornelius?"
+
+He rose precipitately, left the room, and in a few minutes, came down 
+with a melancholy face.
+
+"There was one and there is not one," he said, sadly,--"the perfidious 
+wretches!"
+
+"I shall send the police after them," warmly cried Kate.
+
+"Will the police make them sit to me again?" impatiently asked Cornelius.
+
+"Indeed I hope not," indignantly replied his sister.
+
+"To leave me in such a predicament for the sake of a miserable tea-
+spoon!" he observed, feelingly.
+
+"A miserable tea-spoon! one of the dozen that has been fifty years in the 
+family, with our crest, a hawk's head, upon it too! I am astonished at 
+you, Cornelius; a miserable tea-spoon! you speak as if you had been born 
+with a silver spoon in your mouth!"
+
+Cornelius sighed profoundly by way of reply; but even so tender a 
+disappointment could not weigh long on his cheerful temper.
+
+"After all," he philosophically observed, "they left me my idea."
+
+"I wish the tea-spoon had been an idea," shortly said Kate.
+
+"Well, I wish it had," placidly replied her brother; "but I have at least 
+the consolation of having hit on the very characters I wanted--arrant 
+thieves."
+
+"Indeed you did, Cornelius."
+
+"I remember their features quite well, and shall without scruple consider 
+and paint them too as the real abductors of Daisy; for it stands to 
+reason that she would not be here now if they had only found some decent 
+opportunity of abstracting her."
+
+"Or if she had only been a tea-spoon!" sighed Kate.
+
+"This incident will be of the greatest use to me," gravely continued 
+Cornelius; "it will enable me to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the 
+picture story."
+
+This was rather too much for Kate. But Cornelius bore her reproaches with 
+great serenity, and found another motive of consolation in the fact that 
+I, the principal figure, being always under his hand, it really was not 
+so bad after all.
+
+Happy were the three weeks that followed. Cornelius had acquired great 
+facility and worked hard; I sat to him nearly all the day long; we rested 
+together, and he then put by his own fatigue to cheer and amuse me. It 
+was to me as if Miriam had never existed. Cornelius by no means forgot 
+her, but even a man in love may think of other things besides his 
+mistress, and a new picture on the easel was the most dangerous rival 
+Miriam could dread in the heart of her betrothed. They wrote to one 
+another daily; every morning Cornelius consecrated a quarter of an hour 
+to love, then devoted himself heart and soul to his task; and I--as 
+sharing in that task--occupied, I believe, a greater share of his 
+thoughts and feelings than even his beautiful mistress.
+
+One morning indeed, when the postman did not bring him his usual letter, 
+he looked quite mournful, and began his labour with the declaration "that 
+it was no use--he could not work," but after a quarter of an hour his 
+brow had cleared and he was wholly absorbed in his task. He worked until 
+we were both tired, he with painting, I with sitting; he then threw 
+himself on the low couch, and wanted me to sit by him and talk as usual, 
+but I said he looked drowsy.
+
+"So I am, you little witch."
+
+"Then pray sleep awhile."
+
+"No, I should sleep too long."
+
+"Shall I awaken you?"
+
+"You could not."
+
+"Indeed I could, Cornelius."
+
+"Promise not to mind my entreaties."
+
+"I shall not mind them, Cornelius."
+
+"Then take my watch, your poor father's present, Daisy, and wake me in a 
+quarter of an hour."
+
+He closed his eyes, and, having the happy faculty of sleeping when he 
+liked, he was soon in deep slumber. I sat by him, the watch in one hand, 
+the other resting on the cushion which pillowed his head; I neither moved 
+nor spoke until the quarter of an hour was over, then, without a second's 
+grace, I called him up.
+
+"Five minutes more," he drowsily entreated.
+
+"Not five seconds. I wish you would wake up, Cornelius, or I shall have 
+to pinch you or pull your hair."
+
+"Pull and pinch, so you only let me sleep."
+
+Of course I did not pinch; but I pulled one of his raven locks with 
+sufficient force.
+
+"Little barbarian!" he exclaimed, "what do you mean by such usage?"
+
+"I mean to waken you, Cornelius."
+
+"And why so?" he asked, to obtain that second's delay which is so 
+delightful to the sleeper.
+
+"Oh, Cornelius! how can you ask? Must you not work to become a great 
+artist, paint fine pictures, and become famous?"
+
+"Very true!" he exclaimed, starting up; "thank you, Daisy, you are a 
+faithful friend." And in rising, he passed his arm around my neck and 
+kissed me. But even as he did so, I saw his glance light suddenly; I 
+turned round, Miriam was standing on the threshold of the open door 
+looking at us. I sighed: my three weeks' happiness was over.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ 
+
+Cornelius received Miriam with a flushed brow and eager look that 
+betrayed the joy of his heart. And yet with what indolent calmness she 
+let him clasp her hand in his, and stood in the centre of the room, 
+looking at him with an abstracted smile! In answer to his eager inquiries 
+she composedly answered--
+
+"Yes, my aunt is better and I am quite well. Just arrived? no--I came 
+back this morning."
+
+"And I never knew it!"
+
+"And never guessed it from not receiving the letter! I am come up to 
+scold you. Your sister says you take no rest."
+
+"I had been sleeping when you came in."
+
+"I saw you were being awakened very gently."
+
+"Gently! she used me as Minerva Achilles, but I do not complain; I wanted 
+to work: look!" He took her arm within his and led her to his easel.
+
+"Have you done all that since I left?" she asked.
+
+"Indeed I have, Miriam."
+
+"That accounts for your letters being so short." He reddened; she calmly 
+resumed--
+
+"Why are those two figures mere outlines?"
+
+"Thereby hangs a tale, or rather a tea-spoon. They are to be Gipsies: the 
+child is stolen."
+
+"And a miserable little creature it looks."
+
+"I see I have not caught the likeness," said Cornelius, looking 
+mortified: "it is Daisy." 
+
+"Why, so it is!" exclaimed Miss Russell, seeming astonished; "how could I 
+recognize the child in such unbecoming attire?"
+
+"Unbecoming! Do you know, Miriam, I rather admire Daisy in her rags: her 
+attitudes are so graceful and picturesque; and is she not wonderfully 
+fair?" he added, taking up one of my arms and seeming to call on Miss 
+Russell for confirmation.
+
+"You have made quite a drudge of her," she said, looking at the picture.
+
+"Not a degraded one, I hope," rather quickly replied Cornelius: "Marie 
+Antoinette looked a queen, even when she swept the floor of her prison; 
+if I have not made Daisy look superior and intellectual in her rags, the 
+fault is mine, Miriam."
+
+He looked at her, she did not reply; he continued--"I am taking great 
+pains with that stolen child; as a contrast to the coarse enjoyment of 
+the two Gipsies, and a type of unworthy degradation borne patiently and 
+with unconscious dignity. I mean it to be the principal figure of the 
+group: you understand?"
+
+"I should not have guessed it," was her discouraging reply. He looked 
+mortified; she smiled, and added, "I know nothing of Art. I have nearer 
+seen an artist at work. Let me look at you and learn."
+
+Cornelius looked delighted, and giving her a somewhat proud smile, set to 
+work at once. She stood by the easel in an attitude of simple and 
+attentive grace; she had taken off her black beaver bonnet, and the 
+wintry light by which the artist painted, fell with a pale subdued ray on 
+her fair head, and defined her perfect profile on the sombre background 
+of the room. But his picture and his sitter absorbed Cornelius; his 
+glance never wandered once to the spot where his beautiful mistress stood 
+in such dangerous proximity. I saw her look at him with wonder, almost 
+with pity, then with something like displeasure.
+
+Cornelius was more than usually intent. From his face I knew he was 
+obstinately striving against some difficulty. He frowned; he bit his lip; 
+his very manner of holding palette and pencil was annoyed and irritated. 
+At length he threw both down with an impetuous and indignant
+exclamation--
+
+"I cannot--do what I will--I cannot!" I was accustomed to such little 
+outbreaks, but Miriam drew back, and said in a tone of ice--
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly, you will break your palette."
+
+"I beg your pardon," replied Cornelius, with a start that showed he had 
+forgotten her presence, "but Daisy and the palette are used to it, and 
+there are things would provoke Saint Luke himself, saint and painter 
+though he was. Would you believe it? I cannot render the thoughtful look 
+of that child's eyes otherwise than by a stare!"
+
+He spoke quite mournfully: Miriam laughed; her lover looked astonished.
+
+"What about it?" she said.
+
+"Why, that I am painting a bad picture."
+
+"What matter?"
+
+"And the disappointment! the shame!"
+
+"Be more philosophic," she coolly replied: "success is but a chance."
+
+"Begging your pardon, Miriam, it is a chance that falls to the good 
+pictures, consequently it is worth any toil, any sacrifice."
+
+"Yes," she replied, with reproach in the very carelessness of her tone, 
+"you are, like all men, absorbed in your ambition."
+
+"Would you have me sit down in idleness?"
+
+"I would have you not set your heart on a picture and on fame."
+
+"I must work, Miriam, and the workman cannot separate himself from his 
+work, nor be careless of his wages."
+
+He spoke very warmly; she coldly smiled.
+
+"I can do so," she replied; "I can tell you: paint good or bad pictures--
+what matter? you are still the same man."
+
+"Ay, but there is a bit of difference between a good and bad painter," 
+answered Cornelius, looking half vexed, "and Cornelius O'Reilly hopes to 
+paint good pictures before he dies! But for one or two things this would 
+not be amiss. Daisy, come and look at it."
+
+"You appeal to her?"
+
+"She sometimes hits the right nail on the head. Are the eyes better, 
+Daisy?"
+
+"No, Cornelius," I frankly replied.
+
+"No!" he echoed, giving my neck a provoked pinch, "and why so, pray?"
+
+"I don't like them much; they look in."
+
+"You silly child, that is just what I want," he replied, smiling and 
+chucking my chin: "I don't know what I should do without that little 
+girl," he added, turning to Miriam, "she is a wonderful sitter, not a bad 
+critic--"
+
+"Are you not afraid she will take cold?" interrupted Miriam; "that dress 
+looks thin."
+
+"I trust not," answered Cornelius; "the room is kept warm; she says she 
+is quite warm, but she is so anxious to be of use to me that I can 
+scarcely trust her. Oh, Daisy! I hope you have not been deceiving me."
+
+He made me lie down on the couch, drew it by the fire, threw over me a 
+shawl that was kept in the studio for that purpose, and wrapped me in its 
+folds. I smiled at his anxiety; Miriam looked on with surprise, as if she 
+had forgotten that Cornelius was fond of me.
+
+"I am so thankful to you for mentioning it," he said, turning towards 
+her, "I am forgetful of these things; but if anything were to happen to 
+Daisy, even for the sake of the best picture man ever painted, I should 
+never forgive myself. How do you think she looks?"
+
+"Sallow, as usual," she replied, in passing by me to leave us.
+
+"You are not going yet," he said, going up to her, "you know I want to 
+convert you to Art."
+
+"Not to-day," she replied coldly, and, disengaging her hand from his, she 
+left the studio.
+
+Cornelius came back to the fireplace and looked pensive. I attempted to 
+rise.
+
+"No," he said quickly, "you must not sit any more to-day."
+
+"Oh! Cornelius," I entreated, "pray let me; I do so want to see the 
+picture finished."
+
+Cornelius sighed; he looked down at me rather wistfully, and said, 
+involuntarily perhaps--
+
+"Yes, _you_ like both the workman and his work."
+
+I had felt, after the death of her young sister, that Miriam never would 
+like me; from the very day she came back to the Grove, I felt she 
+disliked me. Her return, without making Cornelius less kind, brought its 
+own torment. She now daily came up to the studio, and from the moment her 
+calm and beautiful face appeared in the half-open door, I felt as if a 
+baleful shadow suddenly filled the room. She did not banish me from the 
+only spot she had left me, but she followed me to it and mercilessly 
+embittered all my happiness. Never once did she leave without having 
+stung me by slights and covert sneers which Cornelius was too frank and 
+good to perceive; which I dared not resent openly, but over which I 
+silently brooded, until jealousy became a rooted aversion.
+
+She had been back about ten days when I again fell ill. Cornelius thought 
+at first I had taken cold in sitting to him, and was miserable about it; 
+but the doctor on being called in declared I had the small-pox, and 
+though Cornelius averred he had gone through this dangerous disease, Miss 
+O'Reilly was morally convinced of the contrary, and banished him from my 
+room.
+
+Nothing could exceed her own devotedness to me during this short though 
+severe illness, and my slow recovery. She seldom left me, and never for 
+more than a few minutes. One evening however, as I woke from a light 
+sleep, I missed Kate from her usual place, and to my dismay I saw, by the 
+light of a low lamp burning on the table, her brother, who stood at the 
+foot of my bed, looking at me rather sadly.
+
+"Oh! Cornelius, go, pray go," I exclaimed, in great alarm.
+
+"There is no danger for me, child," he replied gently; "how are you?"
+
+"Almost well, Cornelius, but pray go; pray do."
+
+Without answering he hastily drew back and stepped within the shadow of 
+the bed-curtain as the door opened, and admitted, not Kate, but Miriam. 
+She did not see Cornelius, for the room was almost dark; she probably 
+thought I slept; she at least approached my bed very softly, moving 
+across the carpeted floor as dark and noiseless as a shadow. When she 
+reached the head of my bed she stood still a moment, then taking the lamp 
+lowered it so that its dim light fell on my face. Our eyes met; I looked 
+at her with a wonder she did not seem to heed; I had never seen her calm 
+look so eager. With a smile she laid down the lamp.
+
+"Oh, Miriam, Miriam!" exclaimed the reproachful voice of Cornelius, who 
+came forward as he spoke, "you have broken your word to me."
+
+She started slightly.
+
+"What brought you here?" she asked.
+
+"I wanted to see my poor child."
+
+He took her hand to lead her to the door; but she did not move, and said 
+in a peculiar tone--
+
+"Have you seen her?"
+
+"Not well."
+
+"Look at her then."
+
+She handed the lamp to him; he took it reluctantly, just allowed its ray 
+to fall upon me, then laid it down with a sigh.
+
+"Poor little thing!" he observed, sadly.
+
+"But it might have been much worse," said Miriam, gently.
+
+"Much worse," he echoed.
+
+I could not imagine what they were talking of.
+
+"I am almost well again, Cornelius," I said.
+
+"I am glad of it," he replied, cheerfully; then turning to Miriam, he 
+again entreated her to go.
+
+"With you," was her brief reply.
+
+He complied: as they went out together, I heard him chiding her for her 
+imprudent kindness. She did not answer, but smiled silently as the door 
+closed upon them.
+
+On learning the visit Cornelius had paid me, Kate was very angry. To our 
+mutual relief he did not suffer from it, and even repeated it in a few 
+days, in order to take me down to the parlour, where I had begged hard to 
+take tea with him and Kate. As he lifted me up in the heavy shawl which 
+wrapped me, Cornelius sighed.
+
+"My poor little Daisy," he said, "how light, how very light you are 
+getting!"
+
+"Oh! but," I replied, a little nettled, "I am to improve so much, you 
+know--at least Miss Russell said so--you remember?"
+
+He gave me a rueful look, and, without replying, took me downstairs. Miss 
+Russell sat by the table looking over a volume of prints; she just raised 
+her eyes to say quietly--
+
+"I am glad you are well again, Daisy," but took no other notice of me.
+
+Cornelius laid me down on the couch, and sitting on the edge, asked me 
+how I felt.
+
+"Very well, Cornelius," I replied, and half rising, I passed my arms 
+around his neck and kissed him. He returned the caress, and at the same 
+time gently tried to make me lie down again. I detected the uneasy look 
+he cast at the mirror over the mantle-piece which we both faced; I wanted 
+to look too; he held me down tenderly, but firmly.
+
+"Not yet, my pet," he said with some emotion, "you must promise not to 
+look at yourself until I tell you."
+
+The truth flashed on me: I was disfigured; I know not how it had never 
+occurred to me before. I burst into tears, and hid my face in the pillow 
+of the sofa. Cornelius vainly tried to comfort me: I would not even look 
+up at him; to be told by him, and before her, of my disgrace, was too 
+bitter, too galling. 
+
+"Shall we love you less?" asked Cornelius.
+
+"Besides, what is beauty?" inquired Kate.
+
+Miriam said nothing.
+
+I did not regret beauty, which had never been mine to lose, but I 
+lamented the woful change from plainness to downright ugliness. "I know I 
+am like Mr. Trim," I despairingly exclaimed,--"without eyebrows or 
+eyelashes."
+
+"Indeed," replied Cornelius, "your eyelashes are as long, and, like your 
+eyebrows, as beautifully dark as ever. Let that comfort you."
+
+I thought it poor comfort--there are so many things in a face besides 
+eyebrows and eyelashes; but drawing the shawl over mine, I checked my 
+tears, and asked Cornelius to take me back to my room. He complied 
+silently, and, as he laid me down on my bed, said gently--
+
+"Have I your word that you will not look at yourself?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius," I replied, scarcely able to speak. "Oh! Kate," I added, 
+as the door closed on him, "am I so very ugly?"
+
+"Never mind, child," she answered cheerfully, "bear it bravely."
+
+I bore it bravely enough in appearance, but in my heart I repined 
+bitterly. Kate and Cornelius were both deceived, and praised me for my 
+seeming fortitude. I did not leave my room for some time, and had no 
+difficulty in keeping my promise; I never felt tempted to break it; I 
+sickened at the thought of meeting in a glass my own scarred and 
+disfigured face. My only comfort was, that as Miriam came not near me, I 
+was spared the look I should have found it most hard to bear in my 
+humiliation. But I could not delay this moment for ever. One evening, 
+when I knew Miss Russell to be below, Kate, in spite of my entreaties and 
+my tears, insisted on making me go down.
+
+I entered the room like a criminal, and without once looking up or around 
+me. I was going straight to the stool by Kate's chair, when Cornelius, 
+who sat on the sofa with Miriam, said, making room for me--
+
+"Daisy, come here."
+
+I felt my unhappy face burn with mortification and shame, as I obeyed and 
+sat down by him. He kissed and caressed me very kindly, but though Miriam 
+never turned towards me her face so pale and calm, nor inflicted the look 
+I dreaded, the thought of her secret triumph rendered me dull and 
+joyless.
+
+"You don't seem very merry," said Cornelius, stooping to look into my 
+face.
+
+"The silly thing is afraid of the looking-glass," pitilessly observed 
+Kate.
+
+"Have you really not yet looked at yourself?" asked Cornelius, in a tone 
+of surprise.
+
+"No, Cornelius," I replied, in a low voice, "I had promised, you know."
+
+"So you had, and you kept your word like a good little girl. Well, I 
+release you--you may look now."
+
+I felt in no hurry to avail myself of the permission.
+
+"Why don't you look?" he asked, very coolly.
+
+"I would rather not," I faltered.
+
+"But you must look at yourself some day; better have it over," was his 
+philosophic advice.
+
+"Indeed I would much rather not."
+
+"Pshaw!" he said, impatiently, "I thought you had more sense."
+
+"So did I," observed Kate.
+
+I thought it was very easy for them, who were both handsome, to talk of 
+sense to a poor plain girl.
+
+"Is it possible," composedly continued Cornelius, "that you mind it? Now, 
+if you find your nose a little damaged, for instance, will it affect 
+you?"
+
+"Indeed. Cornelius, I should not like it," was my dismayed reply.
+
+"Would you not?"
+
+"No, indeed; is there anything the matter with my nose?"
+
+"Just give one good, courageous look, and see." 
+
+He took my hand, made me rise, and led me to the glass. In vain I turned 
+away--he compelled me to look, and I saw my face--the same as ever; not 
+handsomer, certainly, but not in the least disfigured. I turned to 
+Cornelius, flushed and breathless with pleasure: he seemed to be enjoying 
+my surprise.
+
+"Ah! how uselessly we have frightened you!" he said, smiling, "but your 
+face looked bad at first, and that wise doctor said it would remain thus. 
+Kate and I have watched the change with great interest, but seeing how 
+well you bore it, we resolved not to speak until you were once more 
+metamorphosed into your former self. Confess the pleasure was worth the 
+fright."
+
+I glanced at the mirror, then at Cornelius, who stood with me on the 
+hearth-rug, and with an odd, fluttering feeling, I observed--
+
+"I don't think I am disfigured, Cornelius." 
+
+"Not a bit," he replied, gaily: "oh! you will grow up into a beauty yet."
+
+He was holding my head in both his hands, and looking down at me very 
+kindly. I earnestly gazed in his face, and said--
+
+"Did I look very bad on that evening when you brought me down, Cornelius? 
+Was I quite a fright?"
+
+"Almost," he replied, frankly. "Well, what is it?" he added, as he saw my 
+eyes filling with tears: "you do not mind that now, do you, child?"
+
+"No. Cornelius, but I remember you kissed me." 
+
+He smiled, without answering, and went back to Miriam. I quietly resumed 
+by him the place to which he had summoned me, and which I had so 
+reluctantly taken. He paid me no attention, and pertinaciously looked at 
+his betrothed; yet when my hand silently sought his, its pressure 
+returned told me that he was not unconscious of my presence. I felt too 
+happy to be jealous, and for once sitting thus by Cornelius, unnoticed, 
+but with his hand in mine, I could be satisfied with that humble degree 
+of affection which a plain, homely child may receive in the presence of a 
+beautiful and beloved woman. Kate, pleased to see me recovered and happy, 
+was smiling at me from her low chair, when she suddenly frowned and 
+started, as a low, timid knock was heard at the street-door.
+
+"That's Trim!" she exclaimed astonished, for, like Mr. Smalley, he had 
+not come near us since the engagement of Cornelius and Miriam; "I know 
+him by his slinking knock, which always seems to say, 'Don't mind me--
+nobody minds me, you know.'"
+
+Miriam smiled scornfully; the parlour door opened, and Mr. Trim's head 
+appeared nodding benevolently at us all. He entered with his usual 
+slouch, shuffled his way to Kate, and holding her hand in both his, 
+kindly hoped, "she was quite well."
+
+"Quite," was her prompt reply. Mr. Trim was so happy to hear it that he 
+forgot to release her hand, until that of Cornelius, laid on his 
+shoulder, made him turn round. Mr. Trim's eyes seemed to overflow with 
+emotion. "God bless you, my dear fellow, God bless you!" he said, shaking 
+both the hands of his friend up and down several times with great 
+fervour, "it does me good to see you; I wanted Smalley to come, and 
+thought it would do him good too, but he declined. He returns your Byron 
+with thanks and his love, and hopes Byron was a Christian, but he would 
+not come. Ah! my dear fellow, clergymen are men."
+
+"What else did you think they were?" shortly asked Kate--"birds?"
+
+Mr. Trim's fancy was much tickled at the idea. He shut his little eyes 
+and laughed immoderately. When he recovered, he went up to Miriam, who 
+sat indifferent and calm, like one taking no share in what was passing. 
+Mr. Trim hoped she was quite well; she replied quite, with the most 
+scornful civility. He hoped she had been quite well since he last saw 
+her. She had been quite well. He hoped she would continue to be quite 
+well. She hoped so too, and took up a book. Undeterred by this, Mr. Trim 
+drew a chair near the angle of the sofa in which she sat, and spite of 
+her astonished look, there he remained. 
+
+Cornelius had resumed his place between Miriam and me, and I had the 
+honour of next attracting Mr. Trim's attention.
+
+"I am quite well now," I replied, in answer to his inquiries, "but I have 
+had the small-pox."
+
+"Had the small-pox, eh? Let me see; I am half blind, you know."
+
+He raised the lamp, surveyed me through his half-shut eyes, then said 
+admiringly--
+
+"A very fair escape. Don't you think the little thing's complexion is 
+improved, Ma'am?"
+
+He addressed Miriam, who acquiesced by a silent bend of her queen-like 
+head.
+
+"Altogether," continued Mr. Trim, "she looks better. Now do you know, 
+Ma'am, that at sixteen Daisy will be quite a pretty girl."
+
+Miriam smiled ironically. Cornelius looked at me, and complacently 
+observed--
+
+"Three years may make a great difference."
+
+"Is Daisy thirteen?" suddenly asked Miriam.
+
+"Not yet; her birthday is in May."
+
+"You told Dr. Mixton she was ten."
+
+"Twelve, Miriam; she was ten when I brought her home."
+
+She did not reply.
+
+"How goes on the Happy Time?" asked Mr. Trim, bending forward with his 
+hands on his knees.
+
+"It is finished, and I am engaged on another picture."
+
+Mr. Trim shut his eyes and nodded to Miriam, as much as to say, "I know 
+all about it;" then asked how she liked sitting.
+
+"I do not sit to Mr. O'Reilly," she replied in a tone of ice.
+
+"Now, Ma'am, I call that cruel, to deprive our friend--"
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly has never asked me to sit to him."
+
+"But you know I mean to do so when I have finished my Stolen Child," said 
+Cornelius, whose look vainly sought hers.
+
+"Allow me to suggest a subject," rather eagerly said Mr. Trim: "if it 
+won't do, you need not mind, you know. Did you ever read 'The Corsair,' 
+Ma'am?"
+
+"Yes," impatiently replied Miss Russell.
+
+"Then what do you say to Medora?"
+
+"Medora, my favourite heroine!" exclaimed Cornelius; "that is not a bad 
+idea, Trim."
+
+He looked at his betrothed; she was looking at Mr. Trim, who, as usual, 
+was in a state of blindness.
+
+"Medora in her bower," he resumed, "or parting from Conrad, or watching 
+for his return--do you object, Ma'am?"
+
+"Not if you will sit for Conrad," she replied, her eyes beaming scorn on 
+his ungainly person.
+
+"But Mr Trim is not like the print of Conrad," I put in pertly, "and 
+Cornelius is, is he not, Kate?"
+
+Mr. Trim laughed; Kate gave me a severe look and rang for tea. Our guest 
+rose; Miss O'Reilly civilly asked him to stay; but he declined, he had an 
+engagement, he said. Scarcely had the street door closed upon him, when 
+he knocked again. Deborah opened, and his head soon appeared at the 
+parlour door.
+
+"Dreadful memory!" he said, chuckling, "quite forgot Byron; Smalley was 
+rather shocked at some passages, and says you are to read his notes on 
+Manfred."
+
+"Daisy, go and take that book from Mr. Trim," said Kate.
+
+I rose, went up to him, and held out my hand for the volume. He stretched 
+out his arm, caught me, lifted me up, and attempted to kiss me. As I saw 
+his face bending towards mine, I slapped it with all my might, and cried 
+out, "Cornelius!"
+
+"Put that child down," said his somewhat stern voice behind us.
+
+Mr. Trim put me down as if he had been shot. I ran to Cornelius, who 
+looked dark and displeased, and clung to him for protection.
+
+"Like him best--eh, Daisy?" said Mr. Trim, trying to laugh it off, "he is 
+Conrad, eh? but I have no Medora. You foolish thing! why it is only a 
+joke--who minds me?"
+
+"Do not be alarmed, Daisy," observed Cornelius, addressing me, but giving 
+Mr. Trim an expressive look; "Mr. Trim will never do it again."
+
+"Catch me at it!" rather sulkily answered our visitor, rubbing his cheek 
+as he spoke, "I have enough of such valiant damsels. Well, well," he 
+added, relapsing into his usual manner, "no malice; good night, I am glad 
+to see you so happy and comfortable. God bless you all!" He cast a sullen 
+look around the room, and vanished.
+
+Cornelius said nothing; but there was a frown on his brow, and he bit his 
+nether lip like one who chafed inwardly. He led me back to my place on 
+the sofa, and, sitting down by me, did his best to soothe me.
+
+"Why, Daisy," merrily said Kate, "I did not know you had half so much 
+spirit."
+
+I hid my burning face on the shoulder of her brother.
+
+"Never mind, child." she resumed, "he won't begin again."
+
+"I should like to see him." observed Cornelius.
+
+I looked up to say aloud--
+
+"Cornelius won't let him, will you, Cornelius?"
+
+He smoothed my ruffled hair and vowed no Trim ever should kiss me against 
+my will.
+
+"Come, come," put in Kate, "she is only a child."
+
+"Child or not, he shan't kiss her," muttered Cornelius.
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Nonsense! I tell you, Kate, that the child does not like it, nor I 
+either." He spoke sharply.
+
+"You do not look as if you did," said the chilling voice of Miriam.
+
+She had beheld all that had passed with her usual indifference, and now 
+sat leaning back in the angle of the sofa, looking at us with calm 
+attention. Cornelius turned round and replied quietly--
+
+"You are quite right. Miriam, I do not like it."
+
+The entrance of Deborah interrupted the conversation. After tea Cornelius 
+played and sang. Miriam left early.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ 
+
+On the following morning, Kate sent me up my breakfast as usual, and 
+accompanied it with a message that I was not to think of rising before 
+twelve. But I felt strong again; besides I was eager to surprise 
+Cornelius; I hastily donned the ragged attire of the Stolen Child and ran 
+up to the studio. I entered abruptly, then stood still.
+
+In the centre of the room stood Miriam, clad in strange attire. A white 
+robe fell to her feet; a blue cashmere scarf was wrapped around her fine 
+person; her fair hair was braided back from her face; her arms, as 
+beautiful as those of an antique statue, were as bare. Cornelius stood 
+looking at her with eager delight, and never noticed my entrance.
+
+"I am not sure," he said, "that the costume is correct, but I know I 
+never saw even you look so beautiful!"
+
+She smiled, and sank down on the low couch, with negligent grace. One arm 
+fell loosely by her side, the other supported her cheek.
+
+"Do not stir," eagerly cried Cornelius: "that is the very attitude! Oh! 
+Miriam, what a glorious picture it will make!" and walking round her, he 
+surveyed her keenly.
+
+"You think of nothing but your pictures," she said, impatiently.
+
+"Why do you tempt me? Just allow me to move your left arm."
+
+With chilling indifference, she passively allowed him to move her 
+beautiful arms at his pleasure.
+
+"There!" he said, drawing back, "it is perfect now."
+
+"Outstretched! theatrical!" she replied ironically.
+
+"Can you mend it?" asked Cornelius, looking piqued.
+
+She did not answer, but by just drawing in a little, and bending more 
+forward, she threw into her face, into her look, attitude, and bearing, a 
+strange intensity of eager watchfulness, that made her fixed gaze seem as 
+if piercing the depths of an invisible horizon. Cornelius looked at her 
+with wonder and admiration.
+
+"That is indeed Medora," he frankly said at length: "Oh! Miriam, never 
+tell me, after this, you do not care for Art! and now be merciful, let me 
+sketch you thus."
+
+"And the stolen child, who is waiting?" she said, glancing at me.
+
+"What, Daisy!" he exclaimed, seeing me for the first time.
+
+Miriam attempted to rise; he eagerly turned back to her, and entreated 
+her so ardently to remain thus, that she yielded. When he had prevailed, 
+he turned to me.
+
+"Daisy," he said gaily, "you are a good little girl, but you may take off 
+your picturesque attire."
+
+Alas! so I might: the sorceress had conquered me in my last stronghold!
+
+At first Miss Russell would not hear of sitting for anything more 
+finished and elaborate than a sketch in crayons, but from the sketch to a 
+water-colour drawing, and from this again to an oil painting, the 
+progression was rapid: at length the Stolen Child was wholly set aside 
+and replaced on the easel by Medora. I had before lost Cornelius in the 
+evening, in his moments of leisure and liberty, I now lost him at his 
+labour; the intruder stepped in between him and me on the very spot where 
+I thought myself most secure, and I had to look on and see it, for Miriam 
+objected, it seems, to sitting to Cornelius alone; Kate had something 
+else to do than to keep them company: the task was left to me.
+
+That Miriam should sit to Cornelius instead of me, was the least part of 
+my grief; I had never expected that he would always paint little girls: 
+the sitting in itself was nothing, but it led to much that it was acute 
+misery for a jealous child like me to witness.
+
+I was not accustomed to be much noticed by Cornelius in the studio, but 
+if he had a look to spare from his picture, a word to utter in a pause of 
+his work, he gave both look and word to the child who sat to him, or 
+silently watched him painting, and now this was taken from me! I was to 
+my face robbed and impoverished, that another might be enriched with all 
+I lost. For two years I had reigned in that studio, of which not even 
+Kate shared the empire; for two years Cornelius had there spoken to me of 
+his art, of his future, of everything that was linked with this proud aim 
+and darling ambition of his life; and now another listened to his 
+aspirations; another heard every passing thought and feeling which, 
+though a child, it had once been mine to hear, and I had to look on and 
+see it all.
+
+But it was not all.
+
+I did not merely see Miriam enjoying whatever I had once enjoyed; I saw 
+her loved as I had never been loved, possessed of a thousand things which 
+had never been mine to lose. Miriam was a woman, an intellectual, 
+educated woman; she could do more than listen to Cornelius, she could 
+converse with him; she did do so, and constantly she showed me the 
+immense superiority which her knowledge and her years gave her over a 
+mere child like me. She had also become converted to Art, and if not so 
+fervent a disciple as I had been, she was certainly a far more 
+discriminating critic. Her sense of the beautiful was keen and peculiar. 
+She seldom admired it under its daily external aspects, but she could 
+detect it where it seemed invisible to others, and was by them unsought 
+for. She never agreed with Cornelius about what he considered the merits 
+of his pictures; but then, by showing him other real merits of which he 
+had remained unconscious, she charmed more than she ever provoked him. 
+With his fair mistress to sit to him, to look at and talk to--what could 
+Cornelius want with me? It was natural that involuntary and unconscious 
+carelessness should creep into his kindest words and caresses; that, 
+exclusively absorbed in Miriam, he should often forget my presence; that 
+his look, perpetually fastened on her, should seldom fall on me; that 
+every word he uttered should be directed to her: it was natural; but to 
+see, feel, know this, not once in a time, but daily, not for an hour in 
+the day, but all day long, was a torment that acted on me as a slow 
+fever.
+
+But it was not all.
+
+Though Cornelius had been, was still, very fond of me, he had never of 
+course been in love with me. He was in love with Miriam, and if he had 
+enough self-control and self-respect not to show more of the feeling than 
+it was becoming for a child like me to see, he loved too ardently not to 
+be for ever betraying himself to jealous and watchful eyes like mine. His 
+look rested on her with a tenderness and a passion, his voice addressed 
+her in lingering accents, of which he was himself unconscious. His very 
+tones changed in uttering her name, just as the meaning of his face 
+became different when he looked at her. If I had known the frail and 
+fleeting nature of human feelings, I might not have trusted these first 
+signs of a first passion; but all I knew of love was what the fairy tales 
+had told me, and in them I had never read but of loves that had no 
+ending, and were not less ardent than enduring. That Cornelius might one 
+day be less absorbed in Miriam, less oblivious of me, was a thought I 
+never knew nor cherished. The future, when I could forget the present 
+enough to think of the future, had but one image--Cornelius eternally 
+loving Miriam, eternally forgetting me.
+
+But even this was not all.
+
+Miriam was in all the beauty of womanhood; Cornelius in all the fervour 
+of man's young love. She was with him almost all the day long, not alone, 
+but with the check of a constant presence that irritated the fever 
+liberty and untroubled solitude might have soothed to satiety; and this, 
+or I am much deceived, she knew well. He had to repress himself 
+perpetually, in a way which must have been wearying and painfully 
+irksome. His temper was too generous to wreak itself upon me, but I 
+became conscious of a most galling and yet most inevitable truth: in that 
+studio where I had won my place by so much perseverance; where I had 
+shown to Cornelius a faith so entire and unshaken; where I, a child, and 
+restless as all children are more or less, had been the patient slave of 
+his art; where Cornelius had always welcomed me with a greeting so 
+sincere and so cordial in its very homeliness; yes, there, even there, I 
+was no longer welcome. Daily, hourly, I read in his face, in his eyes, in 
+his voice, that my presence was burdensome, my absence a release. I knew 
+it, and I had to endure it; I had to be ever drinking this last sickening 
+drop of a cup that was never drained. I was jealous: and the word sums up 
+all my miseries. I was also what is called a precocious child, and 
+perhaps I felt more acutely than many; I say _perhaps_, for jealousy is  
+an instinct,--is not the dog jealous of its master?--assuredly it is not  
+a feeling that waits for years or knowledge. It is the very shadow of  
+love; and who yet watched the birth of love in a human heart?
+
+I loved Cornelius as an ardent and jealous daughter loves her father, and 
+I was miserable because he bestowed on another that which I neither could 
+wish for, nor even imagine the wish to claim. As was my love, so was my 
+jealousy, filial and childlike: a jealousy of the heart, in which not the 
+faintest trace of any other feeling blended. It was sinful, but it was 
+pure. I did not suffer because Cornelius was in love with Miriam, but 
+because he loved her. If, at twelve, I could have understood and 
+separated feelings that blend so strangely in the heart, I know that I 
+would not have envied Miriam one spark of the passion, but I know that I 
+would still, as I did bitterly, have grudged her every atom of the 
+tenderness. If I did not feel jealousy in that mysterious intensity which 
+has stung so many hearts to madness. I felt it in its calmer bitterness 
+and more patient sorrow. The peculiar agony of this tormenting passion 
+seems to me to lie in the blending of two most opposite feelings: love, 
+from which it springs, and hatred, which it engenders; it has thus the 
+warmth of one and the fierceness of the other, and there also lies the 
+evil and the danger. I loved Cornelius, I detested Miriam. My only 
+salvation from what might have been the utter ruin of my soul, heart, 
+mind, and whole nature, was that I loved him infinitely more than I hated 
+her; woe to me had it been otherwise!
+
+But even as it was, I suffered--and justly--from my sin as well as from 
+my sorrow; and most unhappily I brooded over both unsuspected. Cornelius 
+had detected my jealousy, treated it as a jest, and forgotten it; Kate 
+had, I believe, vaguely conjectured its existence, but I was little with 
+her and on my guard; the only one who really knew what I suffered and why 
+I suffered, was the one who had first inflicted and who now daily 
+embittered the wound. Yes, Miriam knew it: I saw it in her look, in her 
+speech, in her manner; and, if anything could render me more unhappy, it 
+was the consciousness that my miserable weakness lay bare for her to 
+triumph over.
+
+Thus, and more than thus, I felt. Our true life lies in our heart; from 
+within it, according as we feel with force or weakness, we rule the 
+outward world in which we are cast. Strange and dramatic incidents make 
+not the eventful life: it borrows its charm or tragic power from the ebb 
+and flow of feelings. There never was a child who led a more sheltered 
+existence in a more sheltered home; whose life was less varied by 
+adventure beyond the routine of daily joys and sorrows; and yet to all 
+that I felt then I may trace the whole of my future destiny. When I look 
+back on the past, I feel that but for that which preceded, the plain 
+incidents that are to follow would seem, even to me, tame and trifling; 
+but the stakes make the game, and when happiness has to be lost or won 
+the heart will leap at each throw of the dice, and beat fast or slowly 
+with the faintest alternations of hope and despair.
+
+I remember well one day at the close of winter. They both felt tired, and 
+sat on the low couch where I had so often sat by him or watched him 
+sleeping; he now exerted himself to amuse her as he had once done for me; 
+I sat at a table by the window; a book lay open before me, but I could 
+not read; I seemed all eyes, all ears, all sense for them.
+
+"You must sit to me some day for a Mary Magdalene," said Cornelius.
+
+"You spoke of a Juliet the other day," she replied, with a careless 
+smile; "what am I not to be?"
+
+"Say, what should I not be if Cornelius O'Reilly had the power?"
+
+"And why should not Cornelius O'Reilly have the power?"
+
+Her tone was scarcely above indifference, and yet hard to witness and to 
+know; Cornelius had never looked half so delighted when I boldly assigned 
+him a rank among the princes and masters of his art, as he now seemed 
+with these few ambiguous words of his mistress. He started up to work 
+like one who has received a fresh stimulus to exertion.
+
+"I am still tired," coldly said Miriam.
+
+"I do not want you yet."
+
+"Why work then?"
+
+"Oh! Miriam, must not my beautiful Medora progress?"
+
+"Your beautiful Medora!" she echoed, with something like scorn passing 
+across her face, and as if she thought that Medora interfered with the 
+rights of Miriam.
+
+Cornelius was standing before the easel; I saw him smile at the image it 
+bore.
+
+"She is beautiful," he said in a low tone, "though I say it that should 
+not, and though I know you will never grant me that she is."
+
+She smiled a little ironically as he turned round to her.
+
+"I will grant you anything," she replied; "Medora is not my portrait, but 
+an ideal woman for whom you have borrowed my form and face."
+
+"What will not an artist attempt to idealize?" asked Cornelius with a 
+touch of embarrassment.
+
+"Oh!" she observed very sweetly, "I do not mean to imply it was not 
+required. Only if this were a portrait, I should object to having Daisy's 
+eyes and brow given to me."
+
+Cornelius became crimson, and felt that the artist had made the lover 
+commit a blunder. He tried to pass it off carelessly.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "you think that because I gave too dark a tint to the 
+eyebrows, and in attempting to make the eyes look deep, rendered them 
+rather grey--"
+
+She smiled and rose.
+
+"You are not going?" he asked with surprise.
+
+"Why not, since you do not want me."
+
+"No, do not; pray do not!" he entreated; he looked quite uneasy, and in 
+his earnestness took both her hands in his. She withdrew them with an 
+astonished and displeased air, and a look that fell on me.
+
+"Daisy," impatiently said Cornelius, "have you nothing to do below? no 
+lessons to learn?"
+
+He could not have said "You are in the way" more plainly; I did not 
+answer, but rose and left them.
+
+"What brings you down here?" asked Kate, as I entered the parlour, where 
+she sat alone sewing.
+
+"Cornelius said I was to learn my lessons."
+
+"Then take your books upstairs."
+
+I objected to this; but Miss O'Reilly was peremptory.
+
+"I am sure Cornelius wanted to get me out of the way," I said at length, 
+to explain a refusal that naturally surprised her.
+
+"Oh, he did!" indignantly exclaimed Kate.
+
+"Indeed he did, Kate."
+
+"I don't care a pin about that," was her decisive rejoinder, "but I am 
+determined that he shall not lose his days as he loses his evenings: go 
+up directly."
+
+I obeyed with deep reluctance; even when I reached the door of the 
+studio, I paused ere I opened it, then stood still and looked.
+
+They had not heard me; how could they?
+
+Miriam, no longer intent on going, had resumed her place; Cornelius sat 
+at her feet, one elbow resting on the edge of the couch, his eyes 
+intently fixed on her face. She bent over him; her cheeks were flushed, 
+her lips slightly parted; one of her hands was buried in her own fair 
+hair which fell loosened on her neck, the other slowly unravelled the 
+dark locks of Cornelius.
+
+"It is not at me, but at Medora, you are looking," she said impatiently.
+
+"Are you jealous of her?"
+
+"Jealous! when I begin it shall be with Daisy."
+
+"Jealous of Daisy! as if you could be!"
+
+And he smiled. I entered; Miriam looked up, saw me, and smiled too; 
+Cornelius turned round and, reddening like a girl--she had not blushed--
+he rose hastily. I came forward, closed the door, and, as if I had seen, 
+had heard nothing, I sat down and opened my books; but the words of 
+Cornelius, "Jealous of Daisy!" seemed printed on every page; the smile, 
+with which he had uttered and she had heard them, was ever before me. He 
+cared so little for me that I could not be, it seems, an object of 
+jealousy. Miriam staid for about two hours more, then left; scarcely had 
+the door closed on her, when I rose to go: but as I passed by Cornelius, 
+he laid his hand on my shoulder, and arrested me with a reproachful--
+
+"Are you, too, deserting me?"
+
+I stood before him with my books in my hand; I looked up into his face; 
+there were no tears either in my eyes or on my cheek, but he must have 
+seen something there, for, looking surprised--
+
+"Why, child," he asked, "what is the matter?"
+
+He did not even know it!
+
+"Does your head ache?" he continued, with the most irritating 
+unconsciousness.
+
+"No, Cornelius," I replied in a low tone.
+
+"Are you feverish, then?" and he felt my pulse.
+
+This time I did not answer.
+
+"Lie down for awhile," he said kindly. He made me sit down on the couch; 
+placed a pillow under my head; told me to sleep, and returned to his 
+easel.
+
+Alas! it was not the sleep of the body that I wanted, but the calm peace 
+which is to the mind what slumber is to the senses. His kindness 
+irritated more than it soothed me. I watched him painting; I saw that the 
+eyes of Medora were going to change their hue, and I remembered the time 
+when Cornelius would not have given a stroke of the pencil, more or less, 
+to please mortal creature. I tossed about restlessly; he heard me, and 
+thinking me unwell, he came to me.
+
+"Poor little thing!" he said compassionately, and stooping, he left a 
+kiss on my forehead; but this pledge of old affection had lost its charm; 
+I felt betrayed, and involuntarily turned away. Cornelius smiled with 
+astonishment.
+
+"Why, what have I done?" he asked, gaily.
+
+His unfeigned ignorance humbled me to the heart. Without answering, I 
+started up, and ran away to my room, where I could at least cry in 
+liberty.
+
+If Cornelius guessed by this what was the matter with me, he certainly 
+did not show it. He treated me exactly as usual; he did not appear to 
+notice that I now never returned his morning or evening caress, nor even 
+that, as soon as he was obliged to put by Medora for the more profitable, 
+though less interesting occupation of copying bad drawings, I scarcely 
+went to the studio. This was perhaps good-humoured forbearance, but I 
+took it as a proof of carelessness and indifference, which strengthened 
+me in my jealous resentment, more felt, however, than expressed. This had 
+lasted about a week, when Cornelius, one evening, came down to tea, 
+looking so pale and ill that his sister asked at once what ailed him. He 
+sat by the table, his brow resting on the palm of his hand; he replied 
+that his head ached.
+
+"Do you go out this evening?" inquired Kate after awhile.
+
+"No," he answered, without moving.
+
+Kate looked surprised, but made no comment. I sat by her, as usual, but, 
+being lower down, I could see his face better than she did; it was rigid, 
+and ashy pale; he neither moved nor spoke. I rose, went to the table, and 
+tried to catch his eye; but his glance fell on me, and saw me not. I 
+asked if the lamp annoyed him; he made a sign of denial. I stood before 
+him, and looked at him silently.
+
+"Sit down, child," impatiently said Kate.
+
+I obeyed by pushing my stool near Cornelius, and sitting down at his 
+feet; then seeing that this did not appear to displease him. I softly 
+laid my head on his knee.
+
+"You obstinate little thing," observed Kate, "why do you annoy 
+Cornelius?"
+
+"She does not annoy me," he said, and his hand mechanically sought my 
+head, and rested there, in memory of an old habit, of late, like many 
+another, laid aside and forgotten.
+
+After awhile Kate sent me up to her room for a book; whilst looking for 
+it, I heard the door of Cornelius open and close again; his headache had 
+compelled him to retire several hours earlier than usual. It was worse on 
+the following day, for he did not come down; once I fancied I heard him 
+stirring, and I said so to Kate.
+
+"Not he, child; he will remain in bed all day, so you need not start and 
+listen every second."
+
+But her back was no sooner turned than I slipped upstairs. I had not been 
+mistaken; Cornelius was up, and in his studio, but not at work; he stood 
+before his easel, gazing on Medora, and looking so pale and ill that I 
+felt quite dismayed.
+
+"What do you want?" he asked, coldly but not unkindly.
+
+"Nothing, Cornelius; am I in the way?"
+
+"You may stay."
+
+I sat down by the table; he began to pace the narrow room up and down; 
+once he stopped short to say--
+
+"There is no fire; the room must be cold; you had better go down."
+
+"I am not cold; pray let me stay."
+
+He did not insist; resumed his promenade, then threw himself down on the 
+couch, with an impatient sigh and a moody face. I rose, stepped across 
+the room, and sat down by him. Encouraged by his silence, I passed my arm 
+around his neck. I had meant to say something, to tell him I was grieved 
+for his pain or trouble, whichever it might be, but when it came to the 
+point, all I could do was to kiss his cheek. Cornelius made a motion to 
+put me away impatiently; but when his eyes, looking into mine, saw them 
+filled with tears, he checked the movement.
+
+"Poor little thing!" he said, with a sad smile; "you put by your childish 
+anger the moment you think me in pain."
+
+"Oh! Cornelius," I exclaimed, with much emotion, "though you should like 
+another ever so much, and me ever so little, I shall never be so naughty 
+again. Ah! if you knew how miserable I felt last night when I saw you 
+looking so ill!"
+
+"And came and laid your head on my knee like a faithful spaniel--yes, 
+child, I know _you_ like me."
+
+He said it with some bitterness. I replied warmly--
+
+"Indeed I do, Cornelius, and always shall, even though you should not 
+care for me at all."
+
+"Would you?" he answered, his thoughts evidently elsewhere.
+
+"Why, how could I help it?" I asked, astonished at the question.
+
+He started like one whose secret thought has received some sudden sting.
+
+"Ay," he said, "one cannot help it; to wish to leave off, and wish in 
+vain; there is the torment, there is the misery."
+
+"But I don't wish to leave off," I exclaimed, almost indignantly, and 
+clinging to him, I added, a little passionately perhaps, "I could not if 
+I would, and if I could I would not, Cornelius."
+
+There was a pause; as I looked at him, something like a question debated 
+and solved seemed to pass across his face. Then he pressed me to his 
+heart with some emotion, as he said, rather feverishly--
+
+"Daisy, you are wiser than those who sit down and write books or preach 
+sermons on self-subjection, as if it were not the very hardest thing in 
+this world. Let them!" he added, a little defiantly, "the very children 
+rebuke them and know better."
+
+If children reflect little and imperfectly, their faculty for observation 
+is marvellous. It suddenly occurred to me that I had been unconsciously 
+pleading for one whom I had little cause to love; the thought was both 
+sweet and bitter. I looked at Medora, then at Cornelius, and said in a 
+low tone--
+
+"Why did she vex you, Cornelius?"
+
+He gave mc a distrustful look, and putting me away--
+
+"The room is cold," he observed, "go down, child."
+
+I would rather have stayed and learned more; but his tone, though kind, 
+exacted obedience.
+
+When Cornelius came down to tea, his sister asked how his head felt; he 
+said first, "Much worse," then immediately added, "Much better." His 
+movements, like his words, were irresolute; he rose, he sat down; he 
+stood by the table; he went to the hearth; suddenly he went to the door.
+
+"And your headache!" observed Kate, seeing he was going out.
+
+"Never mind the headache, Kate!" he replied impetuously: he was gone, 
+slamming the door behind him.
+
+Kate laid down her work with an astonished air.
+
+He came in as I was going up to bed. I stood on the first steps of the 
+staircase and turned round to look at him: his face was flushed; his eyes 
+sparkled; he looked excited--more excited, I thought, than joyous or 
+happy. In passing by me he took me so suddenly in his arms that he nearly 
+made me fall, then begged my pardon, and finally kissed me two or three 
+times so tenderly that Kate, who saw us from the parlour, looked quite 
+jealous, and uttered an emphatic "Nonsense!"
+
+"Can't a man kiss his own child?" asked Cornelius, putting me down with a 
+gay short laugh.
+
+"Cornelius," said Kate, "your headache was a quarrel with Miriam--confess 
+it."
+
+He reddened and looked disconcerted.
+
+"I knew it," she observed triumphantly.
+
+"No, Kate," he replied quietly, "you did not know it; you mistook; I can 
+give you my word that I have never had the slightest difference with 
+Miriam; by the bye, she sends her love to you."
+
+With this he entered the parlour and closed the door. I thought it odd, 
+and yet I knew not how to disbelieve Cornelius. At the end of the same 
+week Miriam again came to sit for Medora. If there was a change in his 
+manner to her, it was that he seemed to be more enamoured than ever.
+
+Cornelius had not attached sufficient importance to our tacit quarrel to 
+alter in the least after our tacit reconciliation. A young man of twenty-
+two, passionately in love with a beautiful woman of twenty-six, was not 
+likely to care much whether a little girl of twelve sulked and would not 
+kiss him. I liked to think the contrary--that he had been angry with me, 
+and that I should show my penitence. This proved a most unfortunate 
+mistake. Since she had wholly superseded me, Miriam had allowed me to 
+remain in peace; but when I endeavoured to render myself useful or 
+agreeable to Cornelius, she resented it as an insolent attempt to divert 
+even a fragment of his attention from herself. She was sitting to him as 
+usual one afternoon, when he suddenly exclaimed--
+
+"How provoking! I cannot find it; I can scarcely get on without it."
+
+"It will give you time to rest," quietly said Miriam.
+
+A little reluctantly he sat down by her, but said he must return to his 
+work at three.
+
+It was a sketch, which he wanted for the foreground of Medora, that 
+Cornelius could not find. We had vainly looked for it the whole morning. 
+I thought I would have another search. A deep shelf, well stored with 
+art-rubbish, ran round the room. Unperceived by Cornelius, I got up on 
+the table, reached down an old portfolio, opened it, and found at once 
+the missing sketch. Overjoyed at my success, I stepped down too hastily; 
+my foot slipped, I fell; in no time Cornelius had picked me up.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he cried, in great alarm.
+
+I was too much stunned to reply at first; when I could speak, my first 
+words were--
+
+"Here it is, Cornelius!"
+
+I picked up the sketch from where it had fallen, showed it to him, and 
+enjoyed his surprise.
+
+"Oh! you naughty child!" he said, with kind reproof. He sat down again on 
+the couch, made me sit by him, and tenderly pressed his lips on my brow.
+
+"I should suggest brown paper and vinegar for a bruise," observed the 
+chilling voice of Miriam.
+
+"Are you bruised, my darling?" anxiously asked Cornelius.
+
+I laughed, and kissed him. He turned towards Miriam, smiled, and with the 
+generous and imprudent candour of his character, he said--
+
+"I am very fond of that little girl, Miriam."
+
+And lest she should doubt it, again he caressed me. She sat at the other 
+angle of the couch with drooping eyelids; I know not if she looked at us, 
+but as the church clock struck three, she said, sweetly--
+
+"Yes, I consider your affection for that child a touching trait in your 
+character, Cornelius."
+
+She had never in my presence called him by his name; as she ottered it, I 
+saw his hand seeking hers, which she drew not away.
+
+"Cornelius," I said quietly, "it is three o'clock."
+
+"I had forgotten all about it," he cried, starting up, and relinquishing 
+the hand of Miriam, who darted at me a covert irritated glance of her 
+green eyes.
+
+He went back to his easel; I returned to my books.
+
+"Daisy," he said,  "you must not study after such a fall."
+
+"Let me finish my lessons," I replied eagerly; "you know you have half 
+promised to examine me this evening."
+
+"Poor little thing!" kindly said Miriam, "I dare say it is too much study 
+has lately made her look so much more sallow than usual."
+
+I felt my face glow. I was sallow; but was I to be ever reminded of it?
+
+"Or perhaps it is biliousness," she continued: "her face and hair are 
+almost of the same hue; true that is light, nearly straw-coloured. Be 
+careful, Mr. O'Reilly, do not let her work so much."
+
+"Daisy, put by your books," anxiously said Cornelius.
+
+"Not to-day," I replied imploringly.
+
+"She is so industrious," he said admiringly.
+
+"Like all children who cannot rely on the quickness of their 
+perceptions."
+
+"Oh! Daisy is very quick," he answered rather hastily; "she has answers 
+that often surprise me."
+
+"I should like to be surprised. Do you mind answering a few questions of 
+mine, Daisy?"
+
+I did mind. I mistrusted her; I did not want to acknowledge her as an 
+authority, still less to be exposed by her to Cornelius.
+
+"Thank you," I replied, "Cornelius is to examine me this evening."
+
+"I like to judge for myself," she answered smilingly.
+
+I did not reply.
+
+"Daisy, did you hear?" said Cornelius.
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+"Then why not answer? Do you object to being examined now?"
+
+"Not by you."
+
+"But, my dear, it is Miss Russell who wishes to question you."
+
+I remained mute; he gave me a severe look. No more was said on the 
+subject. With waning daylight Miriam left us. I expected a lecture or a 
+scolding, but Cornelius never opened his lips to me. I had a presentiment 
+that this silence boded me no good, and indeed it did not. After tea, I 
+brought out my books for examination; Cornelius looked at me coldly.
+
+"I am astonished at your confidence," he said. He rose, took his hat, and 
+walked out.
+
+For a week I had looked up to this evening, worked hard for it, and 
+thought with pride of the progress of which I could not but be conscious, 
+and which Cornelius could not but perceive. As the door closed on him, I 
+burst into tears.
+
+"What is all that about?" asked Kate, astonished.
+
+I threw my arms around her neck and told her, weeping all the time. She 
+reproved and yet comforted me.
+
+"It was wrong," she said, "wrong and foolish to be rude to Miss Russell; 
+but do not fret, child, though Cornelius may be vexed, he is fond of you 
+in his heart."
+
+"Not as much as he once was, Kate."
+
+She did not contradict the bitter truth.
+
+"It will never be the same thing again," I continued.
+
+"As if I did not know it!" she exclaimed, involuntarily perhaps.
+
+I looked up into her face. She too had seen and felt that Cornelius was 
+not to us what he once had been. She smiled sorrowfully as our looks met, 
+pressed me to her heart and kissed me. Woman-grown though she was, and 
+child though I might be, there was between us the bond of the same secret 
+pain and sorrow.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+ 
+
+Thus began the short and bitter contest between Miriam and me. I 
+apologized to her, humbly enough, on the following day; but in domestic 
+life, reconciliations seem only to lead to fresh quarrels; to make it up 
+is nothing; whilst the spirit remains unchanged, strife cannot cease. I 
+continued to be jealous of Miriam; she continued to resent every poor 
+attempt I made to secure the love and attention of him whose every 
+thought and feeling she wished to engross. I loved him too ardently, and 
+I was too rash and proud, to bear this passively. My persistency cost me 
+dear: I was daily wounded in the most tender and sensitive point--the 
+affection and the regard of Cornelius. I had faults, no doubt, but 
+Cornelius never seemed to have perceived them as he now perceived them: 
+how could he? before, they slumbered in peace, lulled by the love I felt 
+for him and that which he felt for me, whereas now they were--not pointed 
+out to him, she had too much tact for that--but awakened and drawn forth 
+under his gaze, daily, nay hourly. I felt this; I resolved to be good if 
+it were only to provoke my enemy, but I never could keep to the 
+determination. She knew so well how to make me defiant as I had never 
+been, or silent and sullen as Cornelius never had known me; above all, 
+how to rouse me to a pitch of obstinacy which not even he could subdue.
+
+He saw the change with wonder and regret. He felt, rather late, that the 
+jealousy of a child was not a matter to be slighted; he tried to reason 
+me out of it; he was kind, severe, and indulgent by turns--uselessly. The 
+mischief was, I could not help loving him more than ever, and, loving him 
+thus, it was impossible I should not be jealous. Once this excessive 
+affection had pleased him, and he had encouraged it injudiciously; it now 
+wearied him--and no wonder; it had become the source of a daily 
+annoyance, paltry yet most irritating.
+
+I remember well one morning. Oh! how those childish incidents have burned 
+themselves into my brain! She had as usual been provoking me by allusions 
+to my pale and sickly aspect, and then by questions so insidiously framed 
+to make me break forth into impertinence or ill-temper, that I would 
+answer her no more. This availed me little.
+
+"Pray let her alone, Miriam," said Cornelius, greatly disgusted, "she is 
+a sulky little thing, unworthy of your notice."
+
+"The poor child would not be so if she were not so unhealthy," kindly 
+observed Miriam.
+
+This was one of the speeches with which she used to sting me; she knew, 
+and I knew too, how much Cornelius admired health, with its fresh aspect 
+and its joyous feelings, in both of which I failed so lamentably.
+
+"You are too good to be always framing excuses for her," replied 
+Cornelius, with a severe look at me.
+
+"Excuses!" I thought; "yes, it was easy to frame such excuses." But I 
+never replied; I never looked up from my books. I sat at the table by the 
+window, as if I had heard nothing; for this took place in the studio, 
+where Miriam still daily sat for Medora. Towards noon she rose to go.
+
+"Give a look at our little garden first," said Cornelius; then turning to 
+me, he added--"Put on your bonnet and cape--the sun is warm, and the air 
+will do you good."
+
+It was one of the mildest days of early spring. Our garden boasted but 
+few flowers. Cornelius gathered the freshest and fairest for his 
+mistress; but some snowdrops which she admired especially, he did not 
+gather.
+
+"These I cannot give you," he said, "they are Daisy's; the others are 
+Kate's, and consequently mine."
+
+She took the flowers he was handing her, with a smile of thanks, and sat 
+down on the wooden bench by the house. He was soon by her side--soon 
+wholly wrapped in her. The sun shone bright and warm in the blue sky; the 
+breeze was very pleasant; the old house had many a brown, rich tint; the 
+ivy on the porch was green and glossy; the garden had begun to wear the 
+first fresh blossoms and light verdure of spring; a bird had perched on 
+the highest bough of the tallest poplar, and thence broke forth into many 
+a snatch of gay song. It was a morn for happy lovers to sit thus side by 
+side, looking out on heaven and earth, but still lingering within the 
+shelter of a warm home.
+
+I looked at them, and I keenly felt the words of Cornelius. Those 
+snowdrops were mine. I had set them myself, and daily watched them 
+growing up and unfolding their shy beauty; but I had never attached to 
+them an idea of selfish enjoyment. To place them some morning in the 
+studio of Cornelius, enjoy his surprise, his pleasure, and his thanks, 
+was all I had dreamed of; but if it pleased him better to bestow them on 
+her in whom he now most delighted, what mattered it to me? I felt 
+bitterly that she had taken from me his affection, his thoughts, his 
+looks, his kindness, his very caresses, and that she might as well have 
+the flowers with the rest. I gathered them, and silently placed them on 
+her lap. Miriam looked at me and coloured slightly. Cornelius seemed 
+charmed, and passed his arm around my neck with a sudden return of 
+kindness.
+
+"Ah!" said Miriam to him, "those flowers are given to you, and not to me, 
+and it is you must give the thanks."
+
+By the "thanks" she evidently meant a kiss, but Cornelius had perhaps a 
+fancy for caressing me when he chose, for he did not take the hint. 
+Miriam placed the snowdrops amongst the other flowers, and inhaled their 
+mingled fragrance with a dreamy look and smile. Cornelius looked at her 
+and exclaimed--
+
+"Ah! you are Moore's Namouna now,--the eastern enchantress who lives on 
+the perfume of flowers."
+
+"How can you be so cruel?" she replied, glancing up, and her green eyes 
+sparkling in the sun with perfidious light.
+
+"Cruel?"
+
+"Yes, that poor child is still waiting for her kiss."
+
+Those were her very words. They made my blood boil then, and as I write, 
+I still feel within me something of that old resentment over which years 
+have passed in vain. Who, what was she, that she should speak thus? I had 
+been kissed and caressed by Cornelius, I had lain in his arms and slept 
+on his bosom, before he had ever seen her fair and fatal face,--whilst he 
+was still unconscious of her very existence. He might love her more than 
+he loved me, but he had loved me first: even how, changed as he was, I 
+knew I was still dear to him. She had taken much from me; did she mean to 
+take all? Was he to caress me but at her bidding and pleasure? Were his 
+lips to touch my cheek but when she permitted it? Was she to mete out to 
+me even that paltry drop which she had left in my cup, once so full?
+
+I felt this, not in these words, but far more intensely, for it passed 
+through me during the brief seconds which Cornelius took to smile at her 
+words, and then turn to me to comply with her behest. I abruptly averted 
+my face from his: if he would embrace me but on such conditions, never 
+more might he do so!
+
+Cornelius looked surprised, then indignant. As I walked away from them, I 
+heard the sweet voice of Miriam saying, sadly--
+
+"How unfortunate I am to make mischief when I meant a kindness!"
+
+"Do not mention it," replied Cornelius, in a tone of sincere distress, 
+"it is inexpressibly bitter to me to trace such feelings in Daisy."
+
+I stood by the sun-dial, with my back turned to them, and still trembling 
+from head to foot with the intensity of those feelings which Cornelius 
+deplored, but which--I felt he might have known that--sprang from the 
+sincerity of my love for him. But it was destined that she should ever be 
+in the right, and I in the wrong. I attempted no useless justification, 
+and heard them going in, without so much as looking round. 
+
+Domestic quarrels are an endless progeny: each has a distinct existence; 
+but as it dies it gives birth to a successor, and so on for ever. Even 
+for this day, this was not enough. When Miriam returned in the afternoon, 
+she had scarcely sat an hour to Cornelius before she said to me--
+
+"Daisy, I never thanked you for your beautiful snowdrops; you must 
+forgive me the omission."
+
+"Forgive!" echoed Cornelius, who was now sitting by her for a few 
+minutes, and who probably thought this much too condescending.
+
+"Why not? It is the very least I can do to thank the poor child for her 
+flowers; I also want to give her something: what would please you, my 
+dear?"
+
+She was again addressing me, and she spoke very sweetly: she always did 
+speak so to me. There was the misery and the snare: she knew well enough 
+I could never speak so to her; that, though I dare not say much on 
+account of Cornelius, my very voice changed when I had to address or 
+answer her. I now felt what a mockery it was for her, who had robbed me 
+of everything I cared for, to talk of making me a present, yet I 
+compelled myself to reply--
+
+"Anything you like, thank you."
+
+"Anything means nothing, my dear," she said, very gently.
+
+I did not answer; she resumed--
+
+"Would you like a book? you are fond of reading."
+
+"Yes. I like books, thank you."
+
+"Or a new frock; you do not dislike dress?"
+
+"Oh no, I do not dislike it, thank you."
+
+"But I want to know what you prefer," she insisted.
+
+"I prefer nothing, thank you."
+
+Cornelius knit his brow.
+
+"Daisy," he said sharply, "tell Miss Russell directly what you would 
+like."
+
+Tell her what I should like! be indebted to her for a pleasure! no, not 
+even his authority could make me do that. Cornelius insisted, I remained 
+obstinate; he became angry, I did not yield; I was getting hardened; all 
+I would say was that I preferred nothing; and so far as her gifts were 
+concerned this was true, they all seemed equally hateful.
+
+"Disobedient, obstinate girl!" began Cornelius, in great wrath.
+
+"Daisy shall not be scolded on my account," interrupted Miriam, laying 
+her beautiful fingers on his lips, "and she shall have her present too; 
+we must subdue her by kindness," she added in a whisper that reached me.
+
+Cornelius looked at her with mingled love and admiration, and then at me 
+with sorrowful reproach.
+
+I had my present, too, the very next morning; it came in with Miss 
+Russell's kind love: a beautiful green silk frock, that made me look as 
+yellow as saffron. It exasperated me to try it on, but Cornelius, who 
+admired it greatly, insisted that I should do so. I was obliged to 
+comply. I just looked at the glass and saw that the benevolent intention 
+of the donor was fulfilled.
+
+"How kind of Miriam!" said Cornelius, as I stood before him. "It is very 
+pretty. Kate, is it not?"
+
+"An odd colour for Daisy," she replied, drily.
+
+"Saint Patrick's Day was last week," he answered, smiling.
+
+"And Daisy's dress is green in honour of Saint Patrick, of course," 
+rather ironically said Kate; "well, it is a great deal too 'fine for 
+everyday wear, so just come up-stairs and take it off, child."
+
+"Oh, Kate!" I began, as soon as we were alone.
+
+"No," she interrupted, "that is quite an idea of yours, Daisy."
+
+She seemed so positive that what I had not said must be "quite an idea of 
+mine," that I abstained from saying it. She helped me to take off the 
+dress, then looked at it a little scornfully, said it was pretty, but 
+that she fancied me a great deal better with my old everyday merino, 
+which did not make me look quite so much like a bunch of primroses in its 
+leaves. I made no such picturesque comment, but I resolved that though I 
+had not been able to refuse this dress, nothing save force should make me 
+wear it. But my troubles with regard to this unlucky present were not 
+over. When Miriam came in, Cornelius thanked her very warmly; was 
+grateful for her kindness, and praised her taste. I sat by the table 
+apparently absorbed in my books, and secretly hoping it might pass off 
+thus; but it did not.
+
+"Daisy," said Cornelius.
+
+I looked up; there was no mistaking his gentle, admonishing glance, but 
+as I did not seem to have understood it, he added--
+
+"You have not thanked Miss Russell."
+
+If the dress had been a becoming one, if I could have fancied that there 
+was anything like kindness in the gift, I might have subdued my pride so 
+far as to comply. But to thank Miriam for that which I had refused and 
+which she had forced upon me; to thank her for that which I believed 
+destined to make me look plainer than nature had made me, in the sight of 
+Cornelius, and which, as I knew but too well, accomplished the desired 
+object, was more than I could do.
+
+"You have not thanked Miss Russell," again said Cornelius.
+
+I did not answer; I hung down my head and locked myself up in mute 
+obstinacy. Several times Cornelius said to me, in a voice that boded 
+rising anger--
+
+"Daisy, will you thank Miss Russell?"
+
+I did not say I would not, but then I did not do it; and yet I felt sick 
+and faint at the thought of his coming wrath and indignation. Well I 
+might! Cornelius had the fiery blood of his race; but his temper was so 
+easy and pleasant, that you could spend weeks with him and never 
+suspect--save perhaps for too sudden a light in his eyes--that he could   
+be roused to violent passion. Provoked beyond endurance by my obstinacy,  
+he now turned pale with anger; he left by his work to stride up to me; I 
+quailed before his look and shrank back. Miriam rose, swiftly stepped in  
+between us, and placed me behind her, as if for protection.
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly!" she exclaimed, "command yourself."
+
+She spoke with a look of reproof and authority. Cornelius gazed at her 
+with wonder, then coloured to the very temples.
+
+"Oh! Miriam," he said, drawing back from her with a glance of the keenest 
+reproach, "how could you imagine such a thing?"
+
+He looked as if he could not even name it; then perceiving me as I still 
+stood behind Miriam, he took me by the hand, and, sitting down on the 
+sofa, he held me from him, looking me intently in the face as he slowly 
+said--
+
+"And did you too think I meant, I will not say to hurt, but so much as 
+touch you?"
+
+I looked at him; I thought of all his past kindness,--my heart swelled, 
+the tears which had not flowed at his anger, gushed forth with the 
+question; I threw my arms around his neck.
+
+"Oh no, no!" I cried, "I never did think that, Cornelius, and I never 
+could."
+
+"Never?" he echoed; "are you sure, Daisy?"
+
+"Never," I replied almost passionately, "never, Cornelius; if I angered 
+you ever so much; if I saw your very hand raised against me, I should not 
+fear one moment--for I know it never would come down."
+
+His lips trembled slightly, the only sign of emotion he betrayed. He 
+looked at me; our eyes met, and I felt that there was in his something 
+which answered to all the love and faith of my heart.
+
+"You have been very perverse," he said, at length; "you have provoked me, 
+so that I have lost all my self-control; but for the sake of those words, 
+it shall not only be all forgiven to you, but if ever we quarrel again, 
+remember that, whatever you may have done, you need only remind me of 
+this day, for peace to be once more between us."
+
+He pressed me to his heart and kissed me repeatedly, then put me away, 
+rose and went up to Miriam. She stood where he had left her, pale and 
+almost defiant-looking, as if she already repelled the expected 
+reproaches of Cornelius.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said very gravely.
+
+"My pardon?" she replied, looking up at him with a cold doubt in her 
+eyes.
+
+"Your pardon," he repeated precisely in the same tone. "When I stepped up 
+to Daisy, it was to take her by the hand and lead her out of the room, a 
+little indignity which I thought her obstinacy merited; but how utterly I 
+must have lost my temper, how much I must have forgotten myself, for you 
+to misunderstand me so cruelly?"
+
+She did not appear to perceive the reproach that lingered in this 
+apology.
+
+"You looked provoked enough for anything," she quietly answered, "but it 
+was that unhappy child who made you lose all patience."
+
+"I have enough power over myself to promise you that, no matter what 
+Daisy may do, I shall never again allow it to betray me into passion," 
+said Cornelius very calmly; "I shall try the effect of forbearance; with 
+regard to what passed this morning, I forgive her freely; may I trust 
+that you also forgive her."
+
+"Indeed I do, poor thing!" sighed Miriam, as if she pitied my evil nature 
+too much to resent any of its peculiar workings.
+
+No more was said on the subject; but Cornelius was as much pleased with 
+my trust in him, as he was secretly hurt with the suspicion of Miriam. If 
+in his manner to her I could see no difference, there was no mistaking 
+the sudden increase of tenderness and affection with which he treated me. 
+Had I only been wise, I might have availed myself of this opportunity to 
+regain almost all I had lost; but who is wise in this world? I was 
+foolish enough to fall into the first snare Miriam placed before me; 
+again I showed myself an obstinate, sullen, jealous child.
+
+Cornelius however kept to his word; he bit his lip, curbed down his 
+anger, and did not allow his voice to rise above the tones of a calm 
+remonstrance.
+
+But better, far better for me that Cornelius should have given way to 
+hasty speech, punished me, and the next hour forgiven me, than that he 
+should have thus checked himself every time I transgressed. The 
+resentment he daily repressed rankled in his mind; I irritated him 
+constantly, and yet I compelled him to incessant self-control: I became a 
+secret thorn in his side, the source of an unacknowledged pain, a warning 
+that met him at every turn: if Miriam had designed it all in order to 
+render my presence insupportable to him, she could scarcely have 
+succeeded better.
+
+How changed was our once happy and peaceful home! a spirit of strife, of 
+unquiet jealousy had entered it and poisoned all its joys; a sense of 
+trouble and unhappiness hung over it like the sword over the head of 
+Damocles, and robbed everything of its pleasure and its charm. Kate was 
+grave, Cornelius irritable; I was wretched; she alone who had caused it 
+all remained unalterably serene.
+
+Such a state of things could not last: we all vaguely felt it. The close 
+of April brought the change. Breakfast, which had passed off as usual, 
+was over when Cornelius told me to go up with him to his little studio. I 
+obeyed with pleased alacrity; Medora was again lying by, and Miriam was 
+not therefore to come; he had not shown of late much inclination for my 
+society; I hailed this as a symptom of returning favour. As I found 
+myself once more alone with him in the little room I knew so well, I 
+exclaimed joyfully--
+
+"How kind it is of you, Cornelius, to have asked me to come up!"
+
+"Is it?" he replied, without looking at me.
+
+"Yes, I did so want to come up yesterday; but Kate would not let me. May 
+I come to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow? no."
+
+"After to-morrow then?" I said persistingly.
+
+"Be quiet, child, and let me work."
+
+I obeyed and looked at him, as he continued the task on which he had for 
+the last week been engaged--copying a little Dutch painting for a 
+picture-dealer. After awhile I said--
+
+"When you are a great artist you won't copy pictures, will you, 
+Cornelius?"
+
+"Did I not tell you to let me work?"
+
+"I shall speak no more."
+
+But to make up for speaking, I got up on the table and attempted to take 
+down some of the portfolios from the shelf. He heard me, turned round, 
+and uttered an imperative--
+
+"Come down!"
+
+As I obeyed with regret, I exclaimed--
+
+"Oh! if you only would, Cornelius!"
+
+"Would what?"
+
+"Let me have the portfolios, look at the drawings, and arrange them,--I 
+am sure they are in a great mess. By beginning to-day I might have them 
+all sorted before the end of the week. May I have one to begin with?"
+
+"No; must I for a third time tell you to let me work?"
+
+I promised to interrupt him no more, and taking a chair, I sat for awhile 
+both quiet and silent: but the spirit of speech must have possessed me, 
+for I forgot my promise and spoke again.
+
+"Cornelius," I said suddenly, "do you think your Happy Time will be 
+accepted?" for Cornelius had sent in his picture to the Academy; but 
+though Kate and I felt some anxiety on the subject, he professed total 
+indifference.
+
+"I neither know nor care," he replied negligently; "I set no value on it, 
+and shall not think the better of it for its being accepted."
+
+"It makes my heart beat to think of it. I am sure it is a beautiful 
+picture."
+
+"How can you tell?"
+
+"Surely, Cornelius," I replied, "I know?"
+
+"I know," he interrupted, "that I never knew you in such a chattering 
+humour. What possesses you, child, on this morning above all others?"
+
+He had sat down to rest, and, leaning back in his chair, he looked round 
+at me; I stood behind him; passing my arm around his neck, I replied, "It 
+is that I am glad to be again up here."
+
+"Have you never been here before?"
+
+"Not much of late,--I mean when you are alone; not this whole week; I 
+thought you were vexed with me, and when you said 'Come up' this morning, 
+just in the old way, I felt so glad that, if Kate had not been looking, I 
+should have jumped up and kissed you."
+
+
+But Kate was not there now to restrain me--for the most innocent 
+affection is shy and shuns the eye of a gazer--so I kissed her brother as 
+I loved him--with my whole heart.
+
+"That will never do," exclaimed Cornelius, looking very uncomfortable; 
+"listen to me, child, I have something to say to you."
+
+"I am listening, Cornelius," I replied, without changing my attitude.
+
+"I cannot speak in that sideways fashion."
+
+I walked round and sat down on his knee.
+
+"I shall be quite opposite you so," I said.
+
+Cornelius looked disconcerted, and observed gravely, "My dear, you are 
+getting too old for all this; you must be near thirteen."
+
+"My birthday is in two months' time; yours in five."
+
+"True. Well, as I was observing, there are things natural in the child 
+which might seem foolish in the young girl."
+
+I rose submissively.
+
+"I shall not do it again, Cornelius," I said, as I stood before him; "are 
+there other things I do, and which you think foolish?"
+
+"I did not say so."
+
+"Because if there are," I continued, earnestly, "and I should do them in 
+company, for instance, you will only have to say, 'Daisy!' in that way, I 
+shall be sure to understand."
+
+"Nonsense!" he interrupted, reddening.
+
+"Indeed, Cornelius, it is no nonsense: I could understand even a look; I 
+am so accustomed to your face. Have I not been with you nearly three 
+years?"
+
+"That will never do, never!" exclaimed Cornelius, seeming more and more 
+uncomfortable, and stroking his chin with half puzzled, half sorrowful 
+air; "but there is no help for it," he added more firmly; "come here, 
+child."
+
+He drew me on his knee as he spoke.
+
+"But you said it was foolish!" I said, surprised.
+
+"As a habit; not for once."
+
+I yielded; he passed both his arms around me, looked down into my face 
+and said abruptly--
+
+"You know, Daisy, I am fond of you. I think I have shown it; I hope you 
+believe it."
+
+I said I did; but I could scarcely speak, my heart beat so. Why did he 
+tell me of his affection?
+
+"You have not been happy of late," he continued; "at times I have 
+noticed, with pain, an expression of perfect misery on your face: I do 
+not mean that it was justified, but it was there, and, even whilst I 
+blamed you, it grieved me to think you should be unhappy in our home."
+
+"Do not mind it, I don't," I exclaimed eagerly; "I do not mind being 
+unhappy now and then--I would much rather be miserable here with you and 
+Kate, than ever so happy elsewhere."
+
+"Perhaps you would," he replied, "for if you have great faults, no one 
+can say that want of affection is amongst them. You can love, too much 
+perhaps; but that is not the question; on your own confession you are not 
+happy, and to that there is but one remedy. I see in your face that you 
+have guessed it--separation."
+
+Yes, I had guessed it, but not the less acutely did I feel the blow; I 
+did not answer; he continued--
+
+"We must part. You do not know, perhaps you could not understand, how 
+much it pains me to say so; and yet it must be. You are not happy 
+yourself, and there is in the house a sense of unquietness, of strife, 
+that cannot last any longer. But my chief reason for taking this 
+determination concerns you wholly. You are not aware, my poor child, that 
+the feeling you have been indulging is fast spoiling your originally good 
+and generous nature. You are morally ill. I have done what I could to 
+eradicate the disease, but it passed my power. There is but one cure--
+absence. And now one last remark: you cannot change my resolve; spare me 
+the pain of refusing that which I cannot and must not grant."
+
+I did spare him that pain. I lay in his arms mute and inanimate with 
+grief. The blow had been inflicted by the hand I had trusted, and had 
+reached me where I had always sought for refuge and consolation. I had 
+been jealous, perverse; I had provoked and tormented him, but I had never 
+thought he could have the heart to banish me. I believe Cornelius had 
+expected not merely entreaties, but lamentations and tears; seeing me so 
+quiet, he wondered.
+
+"Did you understand?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+"But what have you understood, child?"
+
+"That you will send me away somewhere."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I don't care where, Cornelius."
+
+"I shall send you to school," he said.
+
+"To Miss Wood's?" I asked, naming a day-school close by.
+
+"To a boarding-school," he replied gravely.
+
+I felt that too, but all I said was--
+
+"Then I shall only come home every Sunday."
+
+"My dear," he answered with evident embarrassment, "Kate and I should 
+like it greatly; but would it be accomplishing the object in view?"
+
+So it was to be a complete, a total exile! I looked at him; I did not 
+want to move him, to appeal to his compassion, but my glance wanted to 
+ask his if this could be true. That silent questioning look appeared to 
+trouble him involuntarily.
+
+"Shall Kate come and see me?" I asked after awhile.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And may I write to you, Cornelius?"
+
+"No doubt you may. What makes you ask?"
+
+"Because of course _you_ will not come."
+
+"Why not?" asked Cornelius, looking both surprised and hurt; "am I 
+sending you away in anger? I am not, Daisy. I mean it as a cure,--painful 
+perhaps, but short. I am to marry Miss Russell this summer. We will live 
+next-door; you will be here with Kate. I trust that by that time good 
+sense will have prevailed over exaggerated feelings; that you will learn 
+to love and respect Miriam as my wife and the companion of my existence. 
+This is the true reason of what you perhaps consider a very harsh 
+measure--that your embittered feelings may have time and opportunity to 
+soothe down in peace."
+
+I understood him. This was but the beginning of a life-long separation. 
+Cornelius married, was lost to me. I felt it, but resistance was useless; 
+I heard him apathetically. Thinking perhaps to rouse and interest me, he 
+said--
+
+"You do not ask to what school you are going?"
+
+"I do not care, Cornelius."
+
+"It is not, properly speaking, a school. The Misses Clapperton are 
+amiable and accomplished women, who eke out a somewhat narrow income by 
+receiving a limited number of pupils. At present they have only two; they 
+can therefore devote all their attention to them and to you. It has 
+always been my ambition that you should be well educated."
+
+I could not help looking at him. Well educated, and his ambition! Ay, I 
+had had a master once, loved, preferred, honoured beyond any other 
+teacher, who taught me every evening, often on his knee, with looks of 
+kindness and caresses of love. Him I had long lost; but then why tell me 
+of others hired to impart the teaching he had grown weary of giving?
+
+"When am I to go?" I asked after awhile.
+
+"To-morrow morning; you can stay longer if you wish."
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"Is there anything you wish for? Tell me freely."
+
+"I should like to see all your drawings again and to arrange them; they 
+want it, I know."
+
+He put me down, rose, brought me the portfolios, and emptied their 
+contents for me. I began my task; I had the spirit of order in details 
+which most women possess; I had often before been of use to Cornelius in 
+such matters, and I found a sorrowful pleasure in being of use to him 
+again, in leaving him this last token of my presence. I could not cease 
+loving him because he chose to banish me; the less I received and the 
+more I gave; it seemed as if what he withdrew, I should make up, that the 
+sum of love between us might never grow less.
+
+Whilst I was busy with my task, Cornelius worked. Every now and then I 
+ventured to disturb him: either it was a drawing I wanted him to look at, 
+or I begged of him to notice the system of my arrangement.
+
+"Because, you know," I once observed, "I shall not be here to tell you."
+
+"Very true," he replied, rather ruefully.
+
+I believe he was not prepared for so entire and resigned a submission. He 
+forgot that it was only in the presence of Miriam he could not master me. 
+My docility seemed to affect him more than might have done my tears, had 
+I shed any. His kind face became quite sorrowful; once he left by his 
+work to come and look over my task, and seeing a little drawing in which 
+he had represented himself at his easel with me looking on, and which we 
+had christened "The Artist's Studio," he told me to leave it out, for 
+that he should hang it up.
+
+"Will you indeed?" I said.
+
+I was kneeling on the floor, with the drawings scattered around me; he 
+sat half behind me; I turned round and looked up into his face, smiling 
+with mingled pleasure and sadness. He took my head in both his hands, and 
+looked at me intently; there seemed a charm that kept my eyes on his.
+
+"Ah!" he said at length, "if I dare! but I should only repent it the next 
+five minutes--so it must not be."
+
+With this he rose, and came not again near me. My task occupied me for 
+the whole of that day; it served to divert me. I did not however grieve 
+so very much; there was a sort of incredulousness in my heart which I 
+could not conquer. Kate and Cornelius were much sadder than I was; they 
+knew that it was to be, and I felt as if it were, though decreed, 
+impossible. But when I came down to breakfast on the following morning, 
+when I saw the sorrowful face of Kate, and met the troubled glance of 
+Cornelius, I suddenly awoke to the dread reality. I sat down to table as 
+usual, but I could not eat. Cornelius pressed me, uselessly; even to 
+please him I could touch nothing. It was a beautiful Spring morning, and 
+I was not to go for another hour.
+
+"Shall I give you a walk in the lanes?" suddenly asked Cornelius, turning 
+to me.
+
+"Thank you," I replied, in a low tone, "I prefer the garden."
+
+He took me by the hand and led me out; I liked that little garden, where 
+I had spent so many happy hours, and from which I was now going to part. 
+I looked at the shrubs, trees, and flowers, at the very grass and earth 
+on which I trod, with lingering love and tenderness; but I said nothing. 
+Cornelius looked down at me, laid his hand on my shoulder, and said 
+abruptly--
+
+"Daisy, will you promise not to be jealous?"
+
+An eager and joyful "Yes" rose to my lips--a most bitter thought checked 
+it.
+
+"I cannot," I exclaimed, desperately, "I cannot, Cornelius."
+
+"You will not promise?" he said.
+
+"I cannot."
+
+He looked at me very fixedly, but uttered not a word of praise or blame.
+
+"Daisy," called the sad voice of Kate from the house, "come and get 
+ready, child."
+
+I was obeying; Cornelius detained me to observe--
+
+"Ask me for something before we part."
+
+"I have nothing to ask for, Cornelius."
+
+But he insisted--I yielded:
+
+"If when the time comes you will write to tell me whether your picture is 
+exhibited or not, I shall like it, Cornelius."
+
+"Have you nothing else to ask for?"
+
+"Nothing else," I replied, looking up at him.
+
+Love is proud: he was banishing me--what could I want with his gifts? He 
+said nothing, and allowed me to go in.
+
+At length came the moment of our separation. I was ready and in the 
+parlour again; the cab was waiting in the lane. Miss O'Reilly, who was to 
+take me, said abruptly--
+
+"Go and bid Cornelius good-bye."
+
+I went up to him trembling from head to foot. He sat by the table reading 
+the newspaper: he laid it down, looked at me, then took me in his arms.
+
+All my fortitude forsook me on finding myself once more clasped in the 
+embrace from which I should so soon be severed. I wept and sobbed 
+passionately on his shoulder. I felt as if I could and would not go--as 
+if it were impossible; a thing to be spoken of, never carried into 
+effect. Cornelius pressed me to his heart, and tried to hush away my 
+grief, but ineffectually. At length he said, very ruefully--
+
+"Oh, Daisy!"
+
+Looking up, I saw that his eyes were dim. I grew silent at once, ashamed 
+to have moved him so much.
+
+"Well!" said Kate.
+
+"Yes," replied her brother. He gave me a kiss, put me down; Kate hurried 
+me away, and it was over.
+
+We passed through the garden and entered the cab, which rolled down the 
+lane. I remembered how tenderly Cornelius had once cared for me during 
+the whole of a long journey; how he had carried me when I could not walk, 
+and brought me, wrapped up in his cloak and sleeping in his arms, to the 
+home whence he now banished me. And remembering these things, I cried as 
+if my heart would break.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+ 
+
+"Nonsense," said Kate, "I am not going to stand that, you know."
+
+She spoke in the oddest of her many odd ways. I looked up--her bright 
+eyes were glittering--she passed her arm around me, made me lay my head 
+on her shoulder, and kissed me with unusual tenderness.
+
+"Poor little thing!" she said, gently, "your troubles begin early, and 
+yet, take my word for it, they will not last nor seem so severe after a 
+time. When those two are married, you and I shall live together and be 
+quite happy."
+
+"When are they to marry?" I asked.
+
+"In a month or two. A foolish business, Midge: I thought Cornelius would 
+have had more sense; but he is to have plenty of work from a Mr. Redmond, 
+and on the strength of such prospects he is going to marry. He is but a 
+boy, and he does not know better: but she does, and it is a shame of her 
+to take him in."
+
+"I thought Miss Russell had money."
+
+"So she has; but I know Cornelius; he won't live on his wife's money; he 
+will do paltry work to support himself, lose all his time in copying bad 
+pictures, and ruin his prospects as an artist,--all that because he could 
+not wait a year or two. Ah well! I hope he may not repent it; I hope he 
+may always love her as much as he does now. Don't fret, child; he never 
+deserved such a good little girl as you have been to him."
+
+"Oh, Kate, it is not for that I fret, but is it possible Cornelius can 
+think of giving up painting? it cuts me to think of it."
+
+"He does not think of it, foolish fellow! He does not see that he is 
+tying himself down; just as he does not see that it is to please her he 
+is sending you away. He thinks it is all his idea, whereas I know very 
+well that of his own accord Cornelius O'Reilly would never have dreamed 
+of parting from the child of Edward Burns. To be sure, I might have 
+insisted on keeping you, for the house is mine, but for your own sake I 
+would not make an annoyance of you to him. One must always let men have 
+their way, and find out their own mistake; he will regret you yet, 
+Daisy."
+
+Thus she talked and strove to comfort me, until, after a long drive, we 
+stopped at the door of the Misses Clapperton.
+
+They resided in a detached villa, very Moorish-looking, with windows 
+small enough to satisfy even the jealousy of a Turk, a flat roof 
+admirably calculated for taking cold on, and a turret that threateningly 
+overlooked a classic villa opposite, and gave the whole building a 
+fortified, chivalric, arabesque air, confirmed by its euphonious name--
+Alhambra Lodge. I knew the Alhambra through the medium of Geoffrey 
+Crayon, and devoutly hoped it did not resemble this. On the left of the 
+Alhambra arose an imitation old English cottage, with tiny gable-ends and 
+transversal beams artistically painted on the walls; on the right a Swiss 
+chalet told a whole story of pastoral innocence, and made one transform 
+into an English _Ranz des Vaches_ the cry of "milk from the cow" coming  
+up the street; further on arose a Gothic mansion--but peace be to the 
+domestic architecture of England! We were received in a comfortable-
+looking parlour--not in the least Moorish--by Miss Mary Clapperton. She 
+was short, deformed, grotesquely plain, but had a happy, good-natured 
+face, and intelligent black eyes, of bird-like liveliness. She spoke 
+volubly, called me "a dear," and laughed and chatted at an amazing rate. 
+We had scarcely sat down, when her sister, Ann Clapperton, entered the 
+room. She proved to be the very counterpart of Mary. There never was such 
+a perfect likeness, even to their voice and their very expressions. As 
+they dressed alike they puzzled every one. All the time I was with them, 
+I never could know which was which; to this day I remember them as a 
+compound individual, answering to the name of Mary-Ann Clapperton.
+
+Everything had been settled beforehand, so Kate only had to bid me good-
+bye. It was a quiet parting; she promised to come and see me soon, and, 
+in return, made me promise not to fret. So far as tears went, I kept my 
+word. I was not much given to weeping, and pride alone would have checked 
+outward grief in the presence of strangers. I sat looking at the Misses 
+Clapperton, who looked at me very kindly, and conversed about me as much 
+as two persons who never had a separate thought could be said to 
+converse. The only difference I found between them was that one, I 
+believe it was Mary, suggested ideas which the other immediately 
+converted into facts, as in the following whispered dialogue--
+
+"Ann, she looks delicate."
+
+"She is delicate, Mary."
+
+"I fancy she is intelligent."
+
+"I am sure she is."
+
+I did not hear the rest of the conference; it was brief, and ended by one 
+of the Misses Clapperton---I think it was Mary, but I am not quite sure, 
+for in turning about they had, as it were, mingled--asking me if I should 
+not like to become acquainted with my future companions; on my replying 
+"Yes," she took me by the hand, and led me out into a green garden, all 
+lawn and gravel path, where I was formally introduced to, and left alone 
+with, the two Misses Brook.
+
+Jane and Fanny Brook were orphan sisters of fourteen and fifteen; fine, 
+fresh, romping girls, with crisp black hair, cheeks like roses, and ivory 
+teeth. They looked as demure as nuns whilst Miss Clapperton was by, but 
+no sooner was her back turned than they began to whisper and giggle. Then 
+suddenly addressing me as I stood by them, feeling silent and lonely, 
+Jane said--
+
+"Will you run?"
+
+"I never run; I cannot."
+
+"Try," observed Fanny.
+
+They caught me between them and whirled me off, but they were soon 
+obliged to pause. I had stopped short, all out of breath.
+
+"I told you I could not run," I said, a little offended at their free 
+manner.
+
+"Poor little thing!" compassionately exclaimed Jane.
+
+"Will you race?" asked her sister.
+
+"I don't mind if I do."
+
+A laburnum, at the end of the lawn, was fixed as the goal. They made me 
+arbiter. I sat down on a wooden bench to look; they started off at once, 
+reached the tree at the same moment, knocked one another down in their 
+eagerness--then rose all tumbled and disordered, and ran back to me.
+
+"I was first, was I not?" cried Jane.
+
+"Indeed you were not. It was I, was it not?"
+
+"Indeed," I replied, "I don't know which it was. I think you both reached 
+it at once."
+
+This impartial decision displeased them both. They said I was ill-natured 
+and sly, got reconciled at my expense, and began a gentle sport of their 
+own invention, called "the hunt." It consisted in one of the Misses Brook 
+running the other down, which she did most successfully, and then 
+submitted to being run down in her turn. My arrival had converted this 
+into a holiday; so when the hunt was over, Fanny amused herself with a 
+bow and quivers, whilst Jane swung herself to and fro from the laburnum. 
+I looked on with wonder, and thought I had never seen such odd girls.
+
+The strangeness of everything made the day seem doubly long. So sudden 
+and violent a separation from all I knew and loved was more irritated 
+than soothed by the new objects and new faces to which I was compelled to 
+give my attention, but which could not absorb my thoughts. I welcomed 
+evening with a sense of relief, and a hope that it would bring me silence 
+and comparative solitude. I shared a large, cheerful, airy bedroom with 
+the two sisters, who slept together. At first they were very quiet, but 
+after a while I heard a low rustling sound of paper that seemed to 
+proceed from under their bedclothes; then one whispered the other--
+
+"Do you think she is asleep?"
+
+"Try," was the laconic reply.
+
+"What a beautiful moonlight!" observed the voice of Jane aloud.
+
+"Oh, very!" emphatically answered Fanny.
+
+"Do you like the moonlight?" asked Jane, seeming to address me.
+
+"Yes, I like it." I replied; I could scarcely utter the words, my heart 
+was so full of the lost home, with its quaint garden, sun-dial, and old 
+trees, on which the same moon that chequered the drawn window-blind shone 
+at this hour.
+
+On hearing my reply, the two sisters held a whispered consultation, which 
+ended in Fanny saying in a subdued tone--
+
+"Will you have some sweetstuff?"
+
+"Thank you," I replied, rather astonished, "I never eat sweets; I do not 
+like them."
+
+This answer appeared to produce a very unfavourable impression. The 
+sisters seemed to think me a traitor and a spy, and to repent their 
+imprudent confidence. Of this, though I could not see them, I was 
+intuitively conscious.
+
+"You need not be afraid that I should tell," I observed, somewhat 
+indignantly.
+
+They both said in a breath "they were sure I would not," and very kindly 
+pressed me to share their dainties.
+
+"Don't be afraid," encouragingly remarked Jane, "there is plenty of it."
+
+"A whole bagful," added Fanny, whose mouth seemed to be as full as her 
+bag.
+
+"Oh, Fanny, you greedy thing!" exclaimed Jane, "you promised not to begin 
+until I was ready: I am sure you have taken all the candy."
+
+I am afraid that thus it must have proved on examination, for I suddenly 
+heard a sound slap, accompanied with a recommendation of "Take that," 
+which, if it alluded to the slap, was wholly unnecessary, it being not 
+merely received, but returned, with "Take that too," that proved the 
+beginning of a regular battle.
+
+I felt greatly disgusted; the idea of fighting in bed was essentially 
+repugnant to my sense of decorum; but an end was soon put to the contest, 
+by the sound of an approaching step: on hearing it the combatants stopped 
+as if by magic.
+
+"Say as we say," hastily whispered Jane.
+
+I felt something alight on my bed; the door opened, and Miss Clapperton--
+I think it was Mary--appeared with a light in her hand, and her ugly 
+good-humoured face wearing an expression of solemn reproof. "Young 
+ladies," she observed, addressing the Misses Brook, "are you not ashamed 
+of yourselves?"
+
+"We were only laughing," glibly said Jane, "weren't we, dear?"
+
+"Yes, dear," replied Fanny.
+
+"We could not help it," continued Jane; "she has some sweetstuff in bed 
+with her, and she said she would give us some, and I said I would have 
+all the candy, and Fanny said _she_ would: didn't you, dear?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+I was amazed at the readiness of their invention, but I could not 
+understand why Miss Clapperton looked at me so gravely. At length it came 
+out: the perfidious Jane, knowing she would not have time to conceal the 
+bag of sweetstuff, had tossed it on my bed, where it lay--a convincing 
+proof of my guilt. Miss Clapperton reproved me very gently.
+
+"She did not allow sweets," she informed me, "but of course I did not 
+know that, although she must say that eating them thus in the dark did 
+not look quite like unconsciousness. Still she would not be severe on the 
+first day. The confiscation of what she could assure me was most 
+pernicious stuff, should be my only punishment."
+
+With this she retired.
+
+I had not contradicted the story of Jane, but I was none the less 
+indignant, and I meant to tell her a bit of my mind, when, to my 
+astonishment, she chose to accuse me.
+
+"How could you be such a ninny," she coolly asked, "as to let her carry 
+off the bag? It will all go to that odious Polly. You could have coaxed 
+her out of it, if you liked; a new pupil always can coax her out of 
+anything--she is so soft."
+
+Fanny chimed in with her sister, and both agreed in calling me a "muff," 
+a mysterious expression that puzzled and annoyed me extremely, but which 
+they refused to explain, saying I knew very well what it meant. At length 
+they fell fast asleep, and left me in peace.
+
+School reminiscences do not possess for me the universal charm ascribed 
+to them. I was a child in years, but I had outgrown the feelings of a 
+child: this was the torment and the happiness of my youth. A few days 
+reconciled me however to the rough ways of Jane and Fanny Brook. They 
+were, on the whole, kind-hearted, merry, romping girls; but I was years 
+beyond them in everything save physical strength; I had feelings and 
+ideas of which they entertained not the faintest conception, and, after 
+spending nearly three years in the delightful and intellectual 
+companionship of Cornelius and Kate, I could not care much for their 
+childish amusements and still more childish talk. They pitied me for 
+being so weak, and liked me because, though I could not share in their 
+boisterous pleasures, I was of some use to them in their studies, and 
+because, whenever I could do so, I helped them through the difficulties 
+into which their indolence daily brought them. So much for my companions. 
+The Misses Clapperton proved, as might have been expected from their 
+appearance, kind-hearted, zealous teachers.
+
+I had entered Alhambra Lodge on the Tuesday; Kate had not said that she 
+would come on the Sunday, but I fully expected her, and when, at an early 
+hour, I was summoned down to see a visitor, my heart beat with more joy 
+than surprise. I entered the parlour, and I saw, not Kate, but Cornelius. 
+I was so glad, so happy, that I could not speak. As he kissed me, he saw 
+that my eyes were full of tears, and he chid me gaily.
+
+My first words were--
+
+"Is it exhibited, Cornelius?"
+
+"What are you talking of?"
+
+"The Happy Time; I know the Academy opened yesterday, I thought of it all 
+the day long."
+
+"Of course you did," he replied, smoothing my hair, "I was sure of it."
+
+"Oh, Cornelius, do tell me."
+
+"Can't you guess?"
+
+His smiling face could hear but one interpretation. Overjoyed I threw my 
+arms around his neck; he laughed, and said I looked quite wild. I know 
+not how I looked, but I know I felt delighted.
+
+"Is it well hung?" was my next question.
+
+"Better than it deserves. Oh, Daisy, I have done nothing yet, but I knew 
+you would like to know; so I came this morning to see you and to tell 
+you."
+
+"How glad Kate and Miss Russell must have been!" I sighed.
+
+"Yes, but they are not crazy about my pictures like you, you foolish 
+child. And now talk of something else. How are you? I find you pale."
+
+"I am quite well, Cornelius."
+
+"How do you like the Misses Clapperton?"
+
+"They are kind; I like them."
+
+"They give you a very good character; but one of them said something 
+about sweetstuff which I could not make out."
+
+"I shall tell you all about it, if you will promise not to tell again."
+
+He gave me his word that he would not; and I related to him the whole 
+story, by which he seemed very much amused.
+
+"I saw them as I came in," he said, "a pair of tall, strong girls, each 
+of whom would make a pair of you; but on the whole, how do you like 
+them?"
+
+"Oh! very well."
+
+"You speak quite coolly."
+
+"They are so childish."
+
+"Yet they look older than you."
+
+"So they are; but, would you believe it? they have never heard of Michael 
+Angelo or Raffaelle."
+
+"Poor things!" laughed Cornelius, "how do they manage to exist?"
+
+"Indeed I don't know. When I talk to them of painting, Jane says she 
+should like to paint fire-screens, and Fanny says she should not care."
+
+"They are both young Vandals," said Cornelius, "so don't waste your high 
+ideas of Art upon them; they cannot understand anything of the sort, you 
+know. The fact is, there are not many little girls like mine. Oh, Daisy! 
+I don't want to reproach, but how is it that you, who are so good in 
+everything else, have on one point been so perverse?"
+
+I did not answer: if he did not know that my only sin was loving him too 
+much, where was the use to tell him? I asked after Kate; he said she was 
+well, and would come in the afternoon: then we spoke for a few minutes of 
+other things, and he rose to leave me, promising that on his next visit 
+he would give me a long walk.
+
+I thought my heart would fail me at the parting, but his look checked me, 
+and I bore this as I was learning to bear so many things--with the silent 
+endurance that is not always resignation.
+
+The afternoon brought me Kate's promised visit. Almost her first words 
+were--
+
+"So Cornelius has been here! he never told me where he was going off so 
+early. Say he does not care for you, Midge!"
+
+"I don't say so, Kate."
+
+"I believe not. He nearly got into disgrace on your account."
+
+"Into disgrace, Kate? how so?"
+
+"Why, he was to take a walk with some one, and he was late; so he had to 
+excuse himself I don't know how often, and, like a foolish fellow as he 
+is, he threw it all on his visit to you, and never saw that this was the 
+very head and front of his offending. The fact is," she added, with a 
+profound sigh, "I never knew one who is less apt to suspect a mean, 
+ungenerous feeling than my poor brother. He is a child, quite a child, 
+Midge."
+
+I heard her with a vague presentiment that this generous confidence of 
+Cornelius would be my bane, and so it proved. Spite of his first friendly 
+visit, he came no more near me. Miss O'Reilly called every Sunday, no 
+matter what the weather might be. She saw that I fretted at the absence 
+of her brother, and did her best to comfort me.
+
+"He can scarcely help himself." she once said to me, "he means to come 
+oftener, but every Sunday brings something new to prevent him. He is very 
+fond of you though, often talks of you, praises you, and has hung up in 
+his studio a little drawing of himself and you, which some one uselessly 
+tried to make him take down."
+
+"Yes," I replied, sighing, "he likes me, Kate, but he does not come near 
+me; and though he promised to take me out walking with him some day, he 
+has never done so yet."
+
+"Then it is to come," was her philosophic reply. But, seeing this did not 
+comfort me, she added--
+
+"I have a great mind to tell you something; but no, I will not on 
+reflection, it would make you conceited."
+
+"Then I know what it is, Kate; he said I was clever, or that I would grow 
+up to be good-looking, or something of the kind, which I care very little 
+about; whereas I should care a great deal about his coming to see me."
+
+"No," replied Kate, smiling, "it was nothing like that; but the other 
+evening, when I certainly did not imagine he was thinking of you, he said 
+all of a sudden--'I wish I had that tiresome little girl back again.' I 
+replied, carelessly, 'Do you?' just to draw him out. 'Yes,' he answered, 
+'I never knew how fond of her I was until she was gone.' So there is 
+something for you."
+
+Affection is full of wiles. I followed the precept of drawing out just 
+laid down by Miss O'Reilly, and said quietly--
+
+"Is that all, Kate?"
+
+"All!" she replied indignantly; "why, what more would you have? You 
+ignorant little thing, don't you know that the human heart is made up of 
+separate curious niches, and that in the heart of Cornelius you have 
+quite a niche of your own. He loves me more than he loves you; and, alas! 
+he loves Miriam more than us two put together; but for all that I am much 
+deceived if he does not feel more of what is called friendship for you 
+than for either of us; and let me tell you that friendship which is not 
+exacted as the love of kindred, not interested like passion, is a very 
+lovely thing. It is odd that a little girl like you should now be to him 
+what is called a 'friend,' and yet it is so; but whether because of some 
+secret sympathy invisible to me, or on account of your liking his 
+pictures and painting so well, is more than I can tell."
+
+She spoke positively: memory confirmed all she said; the words of 
+Cornelius repeated by her gave additional proof,--for to be missed is one 
+of the tokens love most prizes, and on which it relies most securely. The 
+blood rushed to my heart; I looked up at Kate with mute gladness.
+
+"Bless the child!" she exclaimed, "Daisy, what is the matter?" And she 
+looked confounded.
+
+"Nothing," I replied.
+
+"Then do not look beside yourself. Oh, Midge, Midge! how will it end?"
+
+She pushed back my hair to look into my face with a rueful glance; but my 
+heart swam in a joy she could not check. Cornelius missed me, loved me, 
+and loved me as his friend!
+
+"Oh! Kate," I said, "how kind of you to tell me all this!"
+
+"Then make much of it, for it is all you shall hear from me. No; it is no 
+use kissing me, and looking pitiful. You are quite fond enough of him as 
+it is."
+
+More I could not get out of her, either then or subsequently. For some 
+time the consciousness that Cornelius had missed me, sufficed me; but the 
+heart is craving; mine asked for more, and not obtaining what it asked 
+for, grew faint and weary. It sickened for the sight of his face, for the 
+sound of his voice, for his greeting in the morning, for his kiss at 
+night, for all it had lost and missed daily. It missed home too, the home 
+I had loved so much, with its cheerful rooms, its ivied porch, its green 
+garden and old trees, its sense, so sweet and pleasant, of happy liberty; 
+its studio, where I loved to linger. Another now enjoyed the shelter and 
+pleasantness of that home; the garden flowers yielded her their sweetest 
+fragrance, the trees their shade; she might sit with him in the studio, 
+alone and undisturbed, all the day long. I was ever haunted by these 
+thoughts; the cure of absence was but a slow one for me.
+
+Three months passed away; the wedding was put off from week to week and 
+day to day, to the great vexation of Kate.
+
+"It is not that I am in a hurry for it," she said to me, when I 
+questioned her on the subject, "but I do not like to see my poor brother 
+made a fool of. I am sure Miriam plays with him, as a cat with a mouse. 
+He can think of nothing else. He was not half so bad in the beginning; 
+but she has irritated him into a perfect fever. Ah well! I wish it may 
+not cool too much after marriage, that is all."
+
+"I wish they were married," I said, sadly, "for then I might at least be 
+with you, and see him now and then."
+
+Kate took both my hands in her own, and looked at me very earnestly.
+
+"Midge," she said, "you are now thirteen; you are old enough to hear 
+sense, and to make up your mind as I have made up mine; think that when 
+Cornelius is married, he is, in one sense, lost to you as well as to me; 
+do not imagine that he will or can be the same again; do not come home 
+with an idea that old times can return; one who has proved it can tell 
+you, that there is no beginning over again old affections."
+
+I looked at her wistfully, loath to believe in so hard a sentence.
+
+"It is so," she resumed, sighing: "think of Cornelius as of a very dear 
+friend; love, respect him as much as you will, but expect nothing from 
+him; wean your heart; you must, for his sake, as much as for your own."
+
+"Kate," I replied, "I shall try and not be jealous of his wife."
+
+"My poor child, you do not understand me; indeed it is very difficult; 
+but wives do not like their husbands to care for those who cannot be 
+included in the circle of home; they want to have them for themselves and 
+their children."
+
+"I shall be very fond of his children, if he has any," I answered; 
+"indeed I shall, Kate; I shall love them as I love him--with my whole 
+heart."
+
+"You foolish girl, that is just the mischief." And she proceeded to 
+explain the feeling I was to have for Cornelius: it was so cool, so 
+distant, that it chilled me to hear her.
+
+"Kate," I said, "I think I could sooner hate Cornelius--and I am sure I 
+never could do that--than like him in that strange way; and I am very 
+sure," I added, after a pause, "that is not at all the way in which you 
+like him."
+
+She smiled, and kissed me, and told me to like him my own way; that God 
+would see to the future, and not let sorrow come out of true affection.
+
+I did not understand her then, nor did she intend I should. Since that 
+time, I have divined that she looked with uneasiness to coming years, and 
+wished to subdue in time a feeling that might prove far more fatal to my 
+own peace than to that of her brother. She meant well, but she had the 
+wisdom not to insist; it was not in her power to make me love him less; 
+it was in the power of none, not even in his own. If for that purpose he 
+had exiled me; if to cool my affection he came so seldom near me, and 
+gave me not his long-promised walk, he failed. I felt the banishment, the 
+visit ever deferred, the promise never kept; but I still loved him with 
+my whole heart.
+
+At length, one morning in the week, and towards the middle of June, I was 
+told by Miss Mary Clapperton that Mr. O'Reilly and another gentleman 
+wanted to speak to me. I went down wondering if Mr. Smalley or Mr. Trim 
+had taken a fancy to pay me a visit. On entering the parlour, I saw 
+Cornelius, who stood facing the door; the other gentleman sat with his 
+back to it, and his clasped hands resting on the head of his cane. He 
+looked up as I came in, and showed me the brown face, white beard, and 
+keen black eyes of my grandfather. I went up to Cornelius, who gave me a 
+quiet kiss, and standing by him, I looked at Mr. Thornton.
+
+"Come here!" he said.
+
+I obeyed, and went up to him.
+
+"Do you know me?" he growled, knitting his dark brow.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Who am I?"
+
+"Mr. Thornton."
+
+"Humph! Do you know why I have come?"
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"To rid Mr. O'Reilly of you."
+
+I did not reply. I knew I had become a burden and a thing to be got rid 
+of.
+
+"I am going abroad," continued Mr. Thornton, "so I just want to settle 
+that before I go; you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Well, what have you to say to that?"
+
+"Nothing, Sir."
+
+Mr. Thornton turned to Cornelius, and said impatiently--
+
+"Has the child grown an idiot? Why, there was twice as much spirit in her 
+formerly."
+
+I saw Cornelius redden; but he did not reply. My grandfather again turned 
+to me, and said--
+
+"Why are you here?"
+
+"To learn, Sir."
+
+"Was that what you were sent here for?"
+
+I hung down my head without replying.
+
+"I thought so," he muttered; "it seems, Mr. O'Reilly," he added, 
+addressing Cornelius, "that though you were in such a precious hurry to 
+get that child, you could not manage to keep her."
+
+"I thought it for her good to be here, Sir," rather haughtily replied 
+Cornelius.
+
+"It was not his fault," I said, eagerly, "indeed it was not."
+
+"Whose then?" sharply asked Mr. Thornton.
+
+"Mine," I replied in a low tone, "I was naughty."
+
+"And were sent to school by way of punishment. Do you like being here?"
+
+"Not much. I am alone now; these are the holidays."
+
+"And whilst the other children are at home, you spend yours here."
+
+I did not reply; Mr. Thornton looked at Cornelius, and still leaning his 
+two hands on the head of his cane, he said, with some severity--
+
+"Sir, when nearly three years ago you called to take away that child, you 
+chose to express pretty frankly your opinion of the way in which she was 
+treated in my house. I shall be every bit as frank with you. I tell you 
+plainly, Sir, that I do not approve of your conduct. You had of your own 
+accord assumed a duty no one sought to impose upon you; you should either 
+have fulfilled or relinquished it. I told you, if the child proved 
+troublesome or in the way, to send her back to me. I can afford, Sir, to 
+put her in a school and pay for her, without burdening you with her 
+support. I do not say you were not justified in getting rid of an 
+inconvenience; I simply say you had no right not to get rid of it 
+altogether."
+
+Cornelius bit his lip, as if to check the temptation to reply. Mr. 
+Thornton, laying his hand on my shoulder, resumed--
+
+"You are old enough to understand all this: Mr. O'Reilly finding you in 
+the way--" 
+
+"Sir," began Cornelius. .
+
+"Sir," interrupted Mr. Thornton, "if she is not in the way, why is she 
+here? Mr. O'Reilly," he added, turning to me, "finding you in the way, 
+placed you in this house, which you don't much like, and where, 
+nevertheless, you cost him a good deal of money. Now the question is, 
+shall I put you in another place like this? And as I can better afford it 
+than Mr. O'Reilly--"
+
+"Sir," interrupted Cornelius.
+
+"Sir," also interrupted Mr. Thornton, "I do not say I am a better man 
+than you are; but I say I have more money;" and addressing me, he 
+resumed--"Shall I therefore put you in another place like this, here in 
+town, and pay for you? Yes or no?"
+
+I knew that Cornelius was poor, that he could ill afford the money he 
+spent upon me, and though my heart failed me, I faltered--
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+I looked up at Cornelius as I spoke: he seemed hurt to the quick.
+
+"Daisy," he said, giving me a reproachful look, "remember, _I_ did not  
+give you up."
+
+He spoke fast, like one who wishes to keep his feelings under; and 
+seizing his hat, hurried out of the room without once looking behind. I 
+sprang forward to overtake him: a hand of iron held me back--
+
+"You little fool," sarcastically said my grandfather, "don't you see he 
+does not care a rush for you! Come, no sniffling; what day will you go?"
+
+"Any day, Sir."
+
+"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday," he rapidly 
+enumerated on his fingers.
+
+"Wednesday, Sir," I replied, flurried at his abrupt manner.
+
+"That is to-day. Stay here whilst I settle with the ladies of the house."
+
+He rose and left me as he spoke.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+ 
+
+I remained alone a few minutes, at the end of which Mr. Thornton, whose 
+voice I heard in the next room, returned with the two Misses Clapperton. 
+They had brought my bonnet and cloak, put them on, bade me good-bye, and 
+kissed me kindly; then Mr. Thornton, who looked on with evident 
+impatience, took my hand, and hurried me off. A carriage stood waiting at 
+the door of Alhambra Lodge; my grandfather lifted me in, and closed the 
+door on me. The carriage drove rapidly away. I sat in it alone, mute, and 
+still amazed. After passing through roads, streets, and along terraces 
+unknown to me, the carriage entered a secluded-looking square, and drew 
+up before a plain house. A demure-looking servant answered the coachman's 
+knock, and was followed by a middle-aged widow lady, who helped me down 
+with a smile, saying cheerfully--
+
+"This way, dear."
+
+I entered with her, and at once looked round for Mr. Thornton. He was 
+nowhere to be seen.
+
+"Please, Ma'am," I said, "is Mr. Thornton come?"
+
+"I am so glad," she replied, seeming much relieved, "I felt afraid he was 
+not coming. No, my dear, he is not come yet, and to tell you the truth, 
+seeing you so suddenly, I could not understand it; but of course he'll 
+explain all. This way, dear; upstairs, dear; mind the turning of the 
+staircase, dear."
+
+She took my hand and led me up carefully, as if I were a baby. She had a 
+very soft hand, and its touch was gentle and timid. When we had reached 
+the second-floor landing, she paused, and opened a door that led into a 
+front bed-room, large and airy, and overlooking the dull square below.
+
+"Don't you think, dear?" suggested the lady, with hesitating kindness,--
+"don't you think you had better let me take off your things?"
+
+"I can take them off, Ma'am, thank you."
+
+"Can you? Very well, dear; is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+"Nothing, Ma'am, thank you."
+
+"Very well. You will not look out of the window, will you? you might fall 
+out, you know, and be killed."
+
+I promised not to look out; she called me a dear child, and left me. In a 
+few minutes I joined her below. I found her sitting alone in a dull and 
+sombre English-looking parlour. She seemed flurried on seeing me, and 
+spoke as if she had intended to go and fetch me, for fear, I suppose, of 
+any accident on the way; but satisfied that all was right, she subsided 
+into what appeared to be her habitual placidity. She had a kind face, 
+that had been pretty, and was still pleasant, though it wore a somewhat 
+uneasy expression, as if its owner were too much troubled with 
+conscientious scruples and misgivings.
+
+"Do you know, Ma'am, if Mr. Thornton will soon come?" I asked, after 
+vainly waiting for my grandfather to make his appearance.
+
+"He is gone, my dear," she replied, calmly. "I said you were taking off 
+your things, and he said he had nothing to say to you; but you may be 
+quite easy; it is all settled."
+
+"Am I to stay with you, Ma'am?"
+
+"Yes, my dear; I am to take care of you and educate you. My name is Mrs. 
+Gray. I live in this house. It is very airy; very salubrious. Mr. 
+Thornton was particular about that, and I am sure I would not have 
+deceived him for anything. Then there is the square, where we have of 
+course the privilege of walking when we like. Besides, I have received a 
+very good education myself, so that I am fit to teach you. I think we 
+shall be very happy together, dear," she added, with a smile, to which 
+neither in word nor in look my heavy heart could give response.
+
+Mrs. Gray saw this, and looked discouraged at once. She hoped we should 
+be happy together; she trusted we should; she thought she might say it 
+should not be her fault if we were not. She was evidently getting very 
+uncomfortable, when I diverted her by a question.
+
+"If you please, Ma'am, was it on account of what I said, that Mr. 
+Thornton took me away from the Misses Clapperton?"
+
+"Ah, the Misses Clapperton. I really don't know, dear. Who are the Misses 
+Clapperton?"
+
+"They receive a few private pupils; they live at Alhambra Lodge."
+
+"Alhambra Lodge, and they receive private pupils, dear me!"
+
+"Do you know, Ma'am, why I was not left there?"
+
+"I dare say, my dear, it was because Mr. Thornton did not approve of 
+their method of teaching; there is a great deal in method."
+
+"Do you know, Ma'am, if Miss O'Reilly will call next Sunday?"
+
+"Miss O'Reilly? that is an Irish name, is it not?"
+
+"Yes, Ma'am, she is Irish, and so is her brother. They were born at a 
+place called Bally Bunion."
+
+"Bally Birmingham--how odd! One would think Birmingham could have done 
+without the Bally. Were you too born at Bally Birmingham, my dear?"
+
+"No, Ma'am, I was born in England."
+
+"Don't you feel much more comfortable to know that?"
+
+"I don't know, Ma'am; but can you tell me if Miss O'Reilly will call next 
+Sunday?"
+
+Mrs. Gray looked perplexed.
+
+"Really," she replied, "I don't know, but I am sure if she does call, I 
+shall be very happy to see her, and to offer her a cup of tea. I always 
+have tea at five exactly."
+
+She spoke earnestly, as if she feared her hospitable feelings might be 
+doubted. I saw she knew nothing, and questioned her no more.
+
+Mrs. Gray was one of those quiet Englishwomen who seem to enjoy dullness 
+for its own sake. She lived in a dull neighbourhood, in a dull square, in 
+a dull house, and, as I soon found, she led as dull a life as she could 
+devise. We rose early, breakfasted together in the gloomy parlour, then 
+went to the lessons, which lasted until our two o'clock dinner. She was 
+an intelligent educated woman, but a nervous, timid teacher; and what 
+with her sensitiveness and her fear that she was not doing her duty by 
+me, she managed from the first day to render both herself and her pupil 
+somewhat uncomfortable. After dinner we took a short walk in the square, 
+or in a neighbouring walk planted with dusty elms, and called the Mall. 
+We took tea at five exactly; I sat up until bed-time, preparing my 
+lessons for the next day, whilst Mrs. Gray worked, or slyly read novels. 
+At first she was as secretive about it as if she were still a school-
+girl, and I a stern schoolmistress; but when she saw that I was not 
+ignorant of the nature of the brown circulating-library volumes that now 
+and then peeped out of her work-basket, she gave up the concealment part 
+of the business, and informed me that though she did not approve of 
+novels generally, she thought herself justified in making exceptions.
+
+Her taste for fiction was shared by Miss Taylor and Mrs. Jones, the only 
+friends she saw constantly. Once a week they came to tea with us, and 
+twice Mrs. Gray took tea with them. They were very quiet, inoffensive 
+women, with the organ of wonder large. I could see that they considered 
+me from the first as a sort of living novel, a "Margaret the Orphan," a 
+"Child of Mystery," etc. I entered Mrs. Gray's house on a Wednesday; the 
+same evening they took tea with her, and I detected both the looks and 
+signs they exchanged, and overheard whispered remarks of "How strange!" 
+"Most mysterious!" "You don't say so!" and the like.
+
+If Jane and Fanny Brook had overpowered me with their boisterous ways, 
+the slow and quiet life I led with Mrs. Gray depressed me even to a sense 
+of pain. I felt it much during the first few days, and waited impatiently 
+for the Sunday. It came, but brought not Kate. I sat by the window the 
+whole day long, eagerly watching for her through the iron railings that 
+fenced in our abode, but she came not. As dusk closed around the dull 
+square and brooded heavily over its melancholy trees, my last hope 
+vanished. At first I thought she was offended with me and would not come, 
+then it occurred to me that she might not know where I was.
+
+"My dear," earnestly said Mrs. Gray, "pray leave that window; you will 
+take cold. Miss O'Reilly, I dare say, will call to-morrow."
+
+"Had I not better write to her, Mrs. Gray, and tell her I am with you?"
+
+"No, my dear," replied Mrs. Gray, looking fidgety, "you must not do that, 
+if you please. I dare say she will call tomorrow; pray leave the window."
+
+I obeyed the gentle injunction, but I had no faith in the hope held 
+forth; I did not think Kate would come, and indeed she did not, nor on 
+the following Sunday either. I again asked Mrs. Gray if I could not write 
+to Miss O'Reilly, who, I felt sure, did not know where I was.
+
+"My dear," nervously said Mrs. Gray, "I fear that if Miss O'Reilly does 
+not know it, it must be because Mr. Thornton did not wish her to know it. 
+I should be very happy to see her, and I dare say she is a very charming 
+person; but I must go by Mr. Thornton's wishes."
+
+All my entreaties could not induce her to alter her resolve. If I could 
+have disobeyed her injunction I would, but open means I saw not, and 
+hidden ones I had not the wit to devise; so I availed myself of the only 
+permission she gave me--that of writing to Mr. Thornton, asking his leave 
+to see my friends. Mrs. Gray sent the letter to his solicitors, but 
+either it did not reach him, or he did not think it worthy his attention, 
+for he never answered it. I saw how foolish I had been to place myself 
+under his control, and the thought that I had myself done it, and was 
+perhaps severed for ever from Cornelius and Kate, ended by affecting my 
+health. In my grief I had said that if I only knew how they were, I 
+should not mind so much not seeing them. Mrs. Gray eagerly caught at 
+this, and offered to ascertain the matter. I gave her the names of the 
+chief tradespeople with whom Miss O'Reilly dealt, and she set off one 
+afternoon on her errand. She stayed away two hours, and returned with a 
+cheerful face.
+
+"Well," she said, sitting down and smiling at my eager look, "I have 
+learned everything. I called in at Parkins the baker, and asked Mrs. 
+Parkins if she knew an Irish family of the name of MacMahon (that was not 
+a story, you know, dear, because there are Irish MacMahons; indeed I knew 
+three myself, though I cannot say they lived in the Grove), to which Mrs. 
+Parkins replied, she did not know any MacMahons, and the only Irish 
+family who dealt with her were a Mr. and Miss O'Reilly; Mrs. O'Reilly 
+that was to be, would, she hoped, also give her her custom in time; I 
+asked what sort of a person she was. Fair and handsome, and Mr. O'Reilly 
+and his sister dark, but also very handsome. I said I did not think they 
+could be the MacMahons, who were all red-haired; and thanking Mrs. 
+Parkins, I came back. I hope, my dear, you will not fret after such good 
+tidings; for if Mr. O'Reilly is going to get married, he cannot be very 
+poorly nor his sister either; and I am sure you are too sensible to care 
+about the bride-cake; so it is all right, you see."
+
+Alas! yes, it was all right, and I felt how little I must now be missed 
+in the home where I had once been petted and indulged so tenderly. They 
+were going to marry; there was nothing to fear or hope now. Mrs. Gray, 
+unaware of the jealousy that had been the source of all my misery, 
+continued to descant on this agreeable state of things, and altogether 
+derived some innocent enjoyment from the part she had acted, and the 
+spice of adventure it had thrown in her monotonous life.
+
+It was a sort of comfort to know that Kate and Cornelius were well, but 
+it passed with time; and at length my ardent entreaties and solemn 
+promises not to betray my presence by word, sign, or look, wrung from 
+Mrs. Gray the favour of being taken one evening to the Grove, so that, in 
+passing by the house, I might perhaps catch a glimpse of the faces I 
+loved. Chance, or rather the kind power that disdains not to indulge our 
+human weakness, favoured me.
+
+The evening was grey and mild, as it often is in the English summer. The 
+Grove was lonely. Mrs. Gray and I kept in the shadow of the trees, on the 
+side of the street facing Kate's house; and walked up and down two or 
+three times. The front parlour was not lit; I could see nothing of what 
+passed within, but in the stillness of that quiet evening I once or twice 
+caught the tones of the voice of Cornelius. I started to hear them.
+
+"My dear," nervously said Mrs. Gray, "had we not better go?"
+
+"Not yet, Ma'am," I entreated; "Deborah will soon bring up the lamp, the 
+window will remain open awhile, and then I shall be able to see them, 
+whilst they, you know, cannot see me."
+
+All happened as I had said; Deborah brought up the lamp, laid it down on 
+the table and left the window open. Now I could see. The lamp burned with 
+a clear and steady flame, that illumined the whole room; the pictures 
+stood forth on the red paper of the walls, and on that sombre yet clear 
+back-ground appeared, vivid and distinct, the figures of Cornelius, Kate, 
+and Miriam. She sat reclining back in her chair, and looking up at him as 
+he stood behind her, laughing and talking pleasantly. I saw less of Kate, 
+who sat a little in the back-ground, bent over her work. They seemed both 
+cheerful and happy, for whilst I stood looking at them, half blinded by 
+tears, Cornelius suddenly turned away from Miriam, went up to the piano, 
+opened it, and sat down to sing the 'Exile of Erin.' What with hearing 
+his voice again, and with standing there listening to him, myself an 
+exile from his home, and, alas! from his heart, I wept. As the song 
+closed with its mournful cadence, Kate rose, shut the window, and drew 
+down the blind, thus excluding me from both sight and sound.
+
+"Don't you think, dear, we had better go now?" whispered Mrs. Gray, 
+gently leading me away from the spot where I still stood looking and 
+listening, though there was no more to see or hear.
+
+I yielded apathetically, and my companion hurried me away, nervously 
+looking behind every now and then, and declaring, "She had never gone 
+through anything to equal this, never!" Indeed by her two friends it was 
+considered quite an adventure, and served to enhance the mystery with 
+which it pleased their imagination to surround me.
+
+I had longed passionately for the favour Mrs. Gray had granted, but to 
+have obtained it only added to my secret torment. I had now been six 
+weeks with the kind lady, but what with the dull monotonous life I led in 
+that dull house and the grief of being severed from those I loved so 
+dearly, I again became languid, if not ill. Mrs. Gray's instructions were 
+to let me want for nothing; she at once called in a physician, who gave 
+me plenty of bitter physic to drink, and ordered me to take more 
+exercise. We lived within half an hour's walk of Kensington Gardens, and 
+every fine day Mrs. Gray conscientiously took me there to spend the 
+interval between dinner and tea. She sat down on one of the benches and 
+read, whilst I wandered away at will.
+
+Those gardens are very beautiful. They have verdure, water, rare fowl, 
+singing birds, flowers wild and cultivated, warm sunshine, deep shade, 
+and brooding over all that solemn charm which lingers around ancient 
+trees and woodland places. I was then studying botany, and my chief 
+pleasure was to look out for wild flowers or linger in some solitary 
+spot. I remember one well,--a solemn grove of elms and beeches, sombre 
+and quiet as a cloister. I often sought its gloom, led by that instinct 
+which makes the stricken deer fly to the shade. When I sat down at the 
+moss-covered base of those venerable trees, something of the soothing 
+calmness of pure nature seemed to fall on my spirit, with their vast 
+shadow. Above me sang the thrush and blackbird, whom I had so often heard 
+in the lanes around my old home. They were happy; to me their song 
+sounded neither gay nor joyful, but wild, sweet, and mournful as that of 
+the enchanted bird heard by bonny Kilmeny in the glen.
+
+One day, in my search for botanical specimens, I wandered further than 
+usual. At length I came to a circular hollow enclosed by fine old trees, 
+of which one lay extended on the earth, uprooted in a recent storm. Its 
+vast boughs were beginning to wither, and its huge roots rose brown and 
+bare, for the first time beholding light; but of these signs, though I 
+noted them as we will note things even when our very hearts are stirred 
+within us. I thought not then; for at once I had seen and recognized 
+Cornelius, who sat on the trunk of the tree sketching.
+
+Absorbed in his task he did not see me, and I stood mute within a few 
+paces of him, looking at him with my flowers in my hand. Through the 
+trees behind me the sun streamed in a few bright rays, that sent my 
+lengthened shadow on the grass. Cornelius saw it and looked up; the 
+pencil dropped from his hand and he turned very pale. Had he moved, or 
+had I? I know not, but the next moment I was locked in his embrace. What 
+I said or did, I cannot tell; he kissed me again and again with many an 
+endearing epithet. For some time neither spoke.
+
+"Oh, my poor lost lamb!" he said, as I lay clasped in his arms too happy 
+for speech, "where have you been all this time?"
+
+"I have been at Mrs. Gray's; how is Kate?"
+
+"She is well, but unhappy about you. Who is Mrs. Gray? Where does she 
+live? Is she kind? Why are you so pale?"
+
+"I am not well; I take physic every morning; Mrs. Gray is very kind; she 
+lives in Auckland Square, number three."
+
+"I know the place; but why, you naughty child, did you not write to let 
+us know where you were?"
+
+"Mrs. Gray would not let me. I wrote to Mr. Thornton, and he never 
+answered; but Mrs. Gray was very kind; once she went to Parkins, and 
+found out that you and Kate were quite well, and another time she took me 
+to the Grove, and I saw you both through the open window; it was in the 
+evening; you sang the 'Exile of Erin;' I stood with Mrs. Gray listening 
+on the other side of the street."
+
+"And you never even came to the door?"
+
+"Mrs. Gray would not have allowed it; besides--"
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"You know," I replied, shunning his look, "what you said to me before I 
+went to Miss Clapperton's."
+
+He did not answer, but when I again looked at him, the glow my words had 
+called up had not left his face.
+
+"You are not here alone?" he observed after an embarrassed pause.
+
+"Oh no! Mrs. Gray is sitting on one of the benches there beyond. Do you 
+want to speak to her?"
+
+"Of course I do," he replied, chucking my chin in his old way.
+
+He took my hand, picked up his sketch-book and drawing materials, and 
+walked with me to where Mrs. Gray sat. She was absorbed in the 
+catastrophe of a third volume, which she nearly dropped, as she saw me 
+appear before her, holding the hand of Cornelius. At first she was quite 
+agitated, but the free and easy manner of the young man soon restored her 
+composure. He did his best to render himself agreeable, and carefully 
+shunned every allusion that could alarm her. I had seen him give her two 
+or three keen looks as if to read her character, before he entered into 
+conversation, after which he went on like one master of his subject. He 
+talked pleasantly for about half an hour, then left us: as I kissed him, 
+my lips opened to ask when we should meet again, but his look checked me. 
+I saw him take the direction that led to the Grove, and my eyes followed 
+him until he was out of sight.
+
+"A very agreeable young man, very," observed Mrs. Gray, giving me shy 
+looks I could not understand; "don't you think so, dear?"
+
+"I don't know, Ma'am. I have known--"
+
+"Yes, yes," she interrupted, "you have known others quite as agreeable; 
+why, so have I. Once I remember, as a girl, that my sister and I often 
+met in our walks a pleasant old gentleman, whom we called--not knowing 
+his name--Dr. Johnson. Suppose we call this young landscape-painter 
+Claude Lorraine."
+
+"Oh, Ma'am! his name is--"
+
+"My dear," impatiently interrupted Mrs. Gray, "how should you know his 
+name? did you ask it, or did he tell you?"
+
+"Oh no, Ma'am!"
+
+"Very well, then, how can you know it?"
+
+I saw that Mrs. Gray wanted to keep on the safe side of truth, and, of 
+course, I was glad enough to indulge her. She perceived that I had at 
+length taken the hint, and talked freely of Claude Lorraine, who appeared 
+to have produced a very favourable impression.
+
+For the remaining part of the day, and on the whole of the following 
+night, I was restless with joy and hope. Something too appeared to be the 
+matter with Mrs. Gray; for we dined half an hour earlier than usual, and 
+went out the very minute the meal was over.
+
+"Where are we going to-day, Ma'am?" I asked.
+
+"I think we had better go to the Gardens," she replied carelessly.
+
+To the Gardens we at once proceeded. Mrs. Gray sat down on her usual 
+bench, drew forth her book, and told me she thought it would do me good 
+to walk about. I eagerly availed myself of the permission, and ran at 
+once to the fallen tree. Yes, there he sat, and with him, as I had 
+expected, was Kate.
+
+She did not say much, but as she took me in her arms and kissed me, I hid 
+my face in her kind bosom, feeling too happy for aught save tears.
+
+"Oh, you naughty child!" she said, giving me two or three reproachful 
+kisses; "how could you do it?"
+
+"Kate, it was Mrs. Gray--"
+
+"Yes, I know; Cornelius has told me all, but I don't care about Mrs. 
+Gray, you are to come with me this very minute."
+
+"But Mrs. Gray--"
+
+"Nonsense! Mrs. Gray won't break her heart about you; and you don't look 
+well at all."
+
+"That is she, coming up to us, Kate."
+
+And so it was. Mrs. Gray had got impatient, or perhaps alarmed, and 
+fancied that Claude had carried me off. She was thrown into another 
+flurry on seeing Miss O'Reilly; but Cornelius undertook to bring her 
+round, and succeeded so well that ere long she sat down by Kate, with 
+whom she chatted pleasantly, whilst I and Cornelius walked about. It 
+seemed to me that but a few minutes had thus passed, when came the 
+parting moment, and Mrs. Gray summoned me with a "My dear, is it not time 
+to go?" The following day was Sunday, and on that day we never walked in 
+the Gardens. With many kisses, caresses, and many a pang of secret 
+regret, and many a look behind, I parted from my two friends. They were 
+scarcely out of sight when Mrs. Gray exclaimed--
+
+"There are very strange things in life--very. Now I should no more have 
+expected to meet in Kensington Gardens an old friend--than--than--really
+--than anything!"
+
+"An old friend, Mrs. Gray!"
+
+"Why, of course; the lady to whom I spoke."
+
+"Miss O'Reilly!" I exclaimed; then immediately felt dismayed at my own 
+imprudence.
+
+But Mrs. Gray was getting bold, and replied, very calmly--
+
+"Yes, I believe her name is O'Reilly; but I do not see anything wonderful 
+in that; as I believe O'Reilly is a very common Irish name."
+
+"And you know her, Mrs. Gray?" I said, eagerly.
+
+"I may safely say I have known her years. For it is now twenty years 
+since I met her at an evening party; I had forgotten her name, but not 
+her face, and being greatly pleased to see her again, I asked her to come 
+and take tea with me to-morrow evening."
+
+"Did you meet her brother at that party, Ma'am?" I asked eagerly.
+
+"Has she got a brother, my dear?" calmly inquired Mrs. Gray.
+
+"Yes, Ma'am, the gentleman who was with her."
+
+"Ah, indeed! the artist we saw yesterday--peculiar! No, my dear, I cannot 
+say I met him."
+
+I saw with some disappointment that Cornelius was not included in the 
+invitation; but I tried to look to the morrow without ungrateful 
+repining; it came, and brought Kate alone, but not the less welcome.
+
+I have often wondered at Mrs. Gray's motives for acting thus; but her 
+character was an odd mixture of sincerity and craft, of daring and 
+timidity. She was kind-hearted enough to like obliging me and woman 
+enough to cherish a feminine pique against Mr. Thornton for not being 
+more frank and explicit with her; besides her life was so dull that a 
+little gentle excitement and mystery were not things to be rejected 
+lightly; and then, as she was in independent circumstances, and had taken 
+me more for society than for profit, she was naturally less apt to regard 
+the consequences of her conduct.
+
+Kate now came to see me freely, and yet I was not happy. Her brother, who 
+had seemed so pleased, so glad when he met me in the Gardens, came not.
+
+"Oh, Kate!" I said, very sadly, "he does not care for me after all."
+
+"Nonsense, child! I tell you he was miserable when he found that Mr. 
+Thornton had taken you no one knew where; why, he got thin with hunting 
+up and down for you; he had no peace himself and gave none to others. 
+Whereas, on the day he met you, he came in looking as gay as a lark, and 
+exclaiming the first thing, 'I have got her, Kate!'"
+
+"Yes, but he does not come."
+
+"Men are so. He is fond of you, and he neglects you, that is their way, 
+child."
+
+This gave me little comfort, but at length one morning when I least 
+expected him, Cornelius suddenly called to see me, and to give me, with 
+the consent of Mrs. Gray, my long-promised walk. He kissed me carelessly; 
+his face looked worn; his way of speaking was short and dissatisfied. As 
+we left Mrs. Gray's house and turned round the square, he asked where I 
+wished to go, in a way that implied that, on taking me out for this walk, 
+he rather thought to get rid of it than to please either himself or me. I 
+replied timidly, that I did not care where we went.
+
+"Are you getting shy with me?" he asked, giving me a keen and surprised 
+look.
+
+I answered "No," with a consciousness that I should have said yes. 
+Cornelius looked at me again, but did not speak until we had for some 
+time walked on in silence. He then observed abruptly--
+
+"How do you like being at Mrs. Gray's?"
+
+"Pretty well."
+
+"Viz. not much."
+
+"I do not complain, Cornelius, she is very kind."
+
+"And she gives you a very good character, and I have assured her she told 
+me nothing new."
+
+He had laid his hand on my shoulder, and he looked into my face with all 
+the kindness of old times. I replied in a low tone--
+
+"It was very kind of you, Cornelius, to say so."
+
+"I only said what I thought; you need not thank me for it."
+
+He spoke impatiently; I did not reply, and there was another long pause.
+
+"Are you tired?" at length asked Cornelius, who was leading me through 
+streets and bye places of which I knew nothing.
+
+"A little."
+
+"And there is not even a shop where I could make you rest; why did not 
+you say so sooner?"
+
+"I did not like to delay you."
+
+"The next thing will be, that you will call me Mr. O'Reilly. Well, it is 
+your own fault, and you will have to walk further before you rest, for I 
+am taking you into the country."
+
+We walked on until the houses grew thinner and began to skirt green 
+fields. The sun was hot, and I found it pleasant to enter a cool and 
+shady lane. There was a bank on which I could have rested, but Cornelius 
+seemed to have forgotten my fatigue; he walked on, looking so abstracted 
+that I did not dare to address him. At length we reached the corner of 
+the lane, and turned into one so exactly like that leading to our old 
+home, that I stopped short.
+
+"Come on," coolly said Cornelius.
+
+I did go on; every step showed me I had not been deceived; I recognized 
+the hedges, the trees, with a beating heart. At length we came to the 
+door I knew so well. Cornelius opened it with a latch-key, and without 
+giving me a look, led me in. We crossed the garden, passed by the sun-
+dial, stept in beneath the ivied porch, and entered the front parlour, 
+where, by the window, in the cool shade of green Venetian blinds, Kate 
+sat sewing.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+ 
+
+I felt like one in a dream. Cornelius had dropped my hand; I stood at the 
+door silent, motionless, not knowing whether I was to come forward or 
+not, when Kate laid down her work and looked up.
+
+"God bless me!" she exclaimed with a start, and she seemed so much 
+astonished that I saw this was as great a matter of surprise to her as to 
+me.
+
+"Yes," Cornelius carelessly said, throwing himself down on the sofa, "I 
+had long promised Daisy a walk, and not knowing where to take her, I 
+brought her here."
+
+By this I had found my way to Kate, who kissed me with her eyes 
+glistening. I think she was as much pleased as myself; and yet with what 
+an odd mixture of feelings I gazed on my lost home! how strange, how 
+familiar seemed everything! As Kate took off my bonnet she said, 
+decisively--
+
+"You shall stay the whole day, Daisy."
+
+"Then you must answer for it to Mrs. Gray," observed Cornelius.
+
+"To be sure. Are you hungry, Midge?--No? What do you want, then?--
+Nothing?"
+
+"I am tired; I should like to sit down."
+
+"Sit down by all means, child," she replied gaily.
+
+I drew my old stool by her chair, and laid my head on her lap. She smiled 
+and smoothed back my hair from my hot face: her other hand lay near it: I 
+kissed it with trembling lips. It was kind of Cornelius--if he could no 
+longer afford to be kind himself--to bring me back at least to her whose 
+kindness, less tender and delightful, but more constant than his, had 
+never failed me. Kate, who had put by her work, sat looking at me with a 
+cheerful happy face.
+
+"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, and perceiving that my eyes fast filled with 
+tears, "you are not crying, Daisy?"
+
+"And if I do cry," I hastily replied, "it is only because I am so happy 
+to see you again."
+
+She laughed and said--
+
+"Why, child, this is Tuesday, and I saw you on Sunday."
+
+"Well, I did not see you on Monday, did I?"
+
+"Little flatterer!" she answered, yet she looked pleased, for love is to 
+us all the sweetest thing on earth.
+
+We remained thus for awhile; then Kate rose to attend to some domestic 
+concerns. I wanted to follow her, but she told me to remain with 
+Cornelius. I obeyed reluctantly; to be with him and not feel between us 
+the friendly familiarity of old times, was no enjoyment, but a painful 
+pleasure. I did not go near him, I did not speak; I sat on the chair Kate 
+had left, and looked out of the window. He never addressed me; after 
+awhile I heard him rise and leave the room. At once I slipped down to 
+Kate, whom I found in the kitchen deep in pastry.
+
+"Now child, what brings you here?" she asked, turning round, and all 
+covered with flour.
+
+"I want to be with you, Kate."
+
+"I am making a pie."
+
+"Then let me look at you."
+
+"Why did you leave Cornelius?"
+
+"It was he who left the parlour."
+
+She wanted me to go up to the garden; but I begged so hard to remain with 
+her, that she at length consented. I left her but once during the whole 
+of that day, and then it was to knock at the door of the studio and tell 
+Cornelius dinner was ready. When we sat down to the meal, I drew my chair 
+close to hers; my old place was by Cornelius, but unless he told me to 
+sit there again, which he did not, I did not feel as if I dare do so. He 
+scarcely took any notice of me, and immediately after dinner again went 
+up to his labour.
+
+"Go after him," suggested Kate.
+
+"I would rather stay here," I replied, startled at the idea.
+
+"Stay then."
+
+We sat together in the parlour until tea-time. Alas! how swiftly seemed 
+to come round the hour that was to close this happy day; for, sitting 
+below with Kate, conscious that Cornelius was upstairs working, reminded 
+of old times by everything I saw, I did feel very happy.
+
+As we sat at tea, Kate suddenly exclaimed, "Why, it is raining hard!"
+
+"Yes, it is," carelessly replied Cornelius.
+
+"Then the child must spend the night here."
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+I threw my arm around the neck of Kate, and kissed her as I joyfully 
+exclaimed, "I shall sleep in my room again!"
+
+"Which is no reason for spilling my tea, you foolish little thing."
+
+After tea I quite expected that Cornelius would go out or Miriam come in; 
+but he sat reading, and Miss Russell never appeared; her name was not 
+even mentioned. I had taken my place by Kate, and, in the joy of my 
+heart, I could not refrain from indulging in a few caresses. She endured 
+me for some time, but, though kind, she was not exactly affectionate, and 
+she at length said good-humouredly but decisively--
+
+"Daisy, my good child, don't hang about me so. I like you, but I might 
+say something sharp; so just take that kiss, and do with it."
+
+She said this so pleasantly, and kissed me so kindly as she said it, that 
+there was no taking it amiss, nor was there any disobeying it; so I 
+sighed, drew back, and kept in my feelings. To Cornelius I never ventured 
+to speak, unless to hid him good-night. 
+
+
+
+I woke the next morning with the consciousness that my brief happiness 
+was over. The day was bright with sunshine; the blue sky had not a sign 
+of coming cloud; there was not the faintest hope of a drop of rain to 
+delay my departure. I came down with a somewhat heavy heart. Kate was the 
+first to broach the subject; breakfast was over, her brother was rising 
+from the table; he sat down again as she said, "Cornelius, who is to take 
+the child back?"
+
+He looked at her, at me, hesitated a little, then said, "I know all you 
+can object, Kate, all you can say beforehand, yet do not wonder when I 
+tell you that I have come to the resolve of keeping Daisy at home."
+
+"Here!" exclaimed Kate.
+
+"Yes, here. I went to fetch her yesterday for that purpose. I have 
+written to Mr. Thornton; it is all settled. Daisy is to stay here if she 
+wishes."
+
+"Cornelius," gravely said Kate, "have you reflected on what you are 
+doing?"
+
+"Very seriously; not that it required much reflection."
+
+"Indeed but it did," interrupted his sister.
+
+"Excuse me, Kate, it did not. When I thought it best for Daisy to leave 
+us, it was because I also thought that my marriage would take place this 
+summer; it is now postponed for at least a year or two. I never 
+contemplated banishing Daisy from home for anything like that length of 
+time. When I went for her yesterday, I was confirmed in my resolve by 
+learning from Mrs. Gray that her health is still very uncertain. I found 
+her myself pale and thin. Strangers cannot be supposed to care for her as 
+you and I do, Kate. She is still very weak and delicate; her only place 
+is home; for," he added, giving me a look of reproach, "_I_ have never 
+ceased to consider this as her home."
+
+Kate gave him no direct answer, but, looking at him fixedly, she said, 
+"Does Miss Russell know this?"
+
+"No," he replied, looking pained, "she does not, Kate. I see by the 
+question that your old suspicion still survives. On my word Miriam had 
+nothing to do with making me send away Daisy; she even raised several 
+objections to it; she will be truly pleased to learn that the child is 
+come back."
+
+Miss O'Reilly looked incredulous, but, glancing out at the window, she 
+said, "Here is your letter, Cornelius."
+
+He started up; the postman gave that knock which has moved to joy or 
+sorrow so many hearts; a letter was brought in; Cornelius snatched it 
+from Deborah, and eagerly broke the seal; it looked long; he was soon 
+absorbed.
+
+Kate repressed a sigh to turn to me, and say in her most cheerful 
+accents, "What do you say to all this?"
+
+I was standing by her chair; I laid my cheek to hers as I replied, "The 
+week will be made up of Sundays."
+
+"Were the Sundays so pleasant?"
+
+"As pleasant as the Saturdays seemed long."
+
+"Well, they need be neither short nor long now; only, child, don't you 
+remember?"
+
+"What, Kate?"
+
+"If you hang about me I shall scold."
+
+"Then let me deserve the scolding," I replied, covering her brow and hair 
+with kisses, and half laughing, half crying for joy.
+
+She looked at me wistfully, for once letting me do as I liked, and saying 
+"she did not feel as if she could scold me to-day."
+
+"Because you are too good," I answered, in a low, moved tone. "Oh, Kate, 
+shall I ever forget how you never forgot me; how constantly you came to 
+see me Sunday after Sunday!"
+
+Here I stopped short, for I caught the look of Cornelius, who had laid 
+down his letter, and was evidently listening. 
+
+"What else had I to do?" asked Kate, cheerfully.
+
+She rose to go downstairs. I wanted to go with her, but she gaily told me 
+she no more fancied being followed than being hung about, so I had to 
+remain behind, but with the blessed consciousness, it is true, that there 
+was to be no second parting. Joy made me restless. I knew not what to do 
+with myself. I went to the window; I looked at the flowers, at the books, 
+and finally at Cornelius, who, to read his letter more comfortably, was 
+sitting on the sofa. I saw that when he had done he began it over again. 
+It was a lady's hand; there was no difficulty in guessing from whom it 
+came. When the second perusal was over he looked up; as our eyes met I 
+came forward rather hesitatingly, and standing before him, I said--
+
+"May I speak to you, Cornelius?"
+
+"Certainly, but do not be too long about it?" 
+
+"It will not take long. I only want to thank you for having brought me 
+home to Kate." 
+
+"You thank me for that?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, it has made me so happy." 
+
+"I am glad to hear it, though I did not mean it." 
+
+"Did you not?" I replied, rather mortified. 
+
+"No," he continued, in an indifferent tone, "not at all. It is true there 
+was once a little girl who used not to be shy and distant with me"--I 
+drew a little nearer--"who would not speak to me standing, but sitting by 
+my side"--I sat down by him--"and whom I used to call my child," 
+continued Cornelius without looking at me; "and it is also true," he 
+added in the same way, "that feeling rather dull, I thought one morning I 
+would go and bring her home; but if there was any kindness in this, I 
+cannot say I meant it all for her or for Kate."
+
+He turned round, smiling as he spoke. I threw my arms around his neck and 
+kissed him eagerly. I felt so happy; he laughed.
+
+"Poor Kate!" he said, gaily, "well may she object to being hung on after 
+this fashion; but I am used to it."
+
+"If you had not spoken so, you know I should not," I replied, half 
+offended.
+
+"No, you sulky little thing," he said almost indignantly, "I know you 
+would not: what between obstinacy and pride, you would never give in. But 
+you mistook, Daisy, if you thought you could make me fancy you preferred 
+Kate to me."
+
+"As if I was not sure you knew better!" I answered, with the frank 
+ingratitude of my years.
+
+"Thank you, Daisy," said the somewhat sorrowful voice of Kate.
+
+I looked up. She was standing behind us; she had evidently overheard our 
+last words. I felt myself crimsoning with shame, and hid my face on the 
+shoulder of Cornelius.
+
+"Don't hide your face, child," quietly observed Kate, "I do not prefer 
+you: why should you prefer me? Besides, loving him more is not loving me 
+less, and I was not so foolish as not to know it was thus: so look up."
+
+"Yes, look up," said Cornelius, raising my face. "Kate is not vexed with 
+you."
+
+"But Kate is vexed with you, Cornelius," she remarked, very gravely: "do 
+you mean to spoil that child, to--"
+
+"Yes," interrupted Cornelius.
+
+"Oh! you may make light of it," she continued very seriously; "I am not 
+so blind as not to guess that you brought her home a little for her sake, 
+and a good deal for your own."
+
+"'Faith, then, you only guess the truth, Kate," said Cornelius, 
+impatiently; "it is odd you never seem to understand what, heaven knows, 
+I never seek to hide, nor dream to deny. I am fond of the child, very 
+fond of her. I cared little for her when she came first to us, but she 
+chose to take a fancy to me, and, though it would puzzle me to say how it 
+came to pass, I found out in time that I had taken to her what must have 
+been a very real fancy, for since she left I have never felt as if the 
+house were the same without her. So after a week's hesitation and delay I 
+went off and fetched her yesterday--and I don't repent it, Kate. She has 
+provoked and tormented me--she will do so again, I have no doubt, 
+perverse little creature! and yet I cannot help being glad at having her 
+once more."
+
+He laid his hand on my head and looked me kindly in the face as he said 
+it.
+
+"After that," resignedly replied Kate, "meddling of mine is worse than 
+useless; but what did Mr. Thornton say?"
+
+"Mr. Thornton has had the impertinence to say that if Margaret Burns is 
+such a fool as to wish to stay with me, she is welcome."
+
+Kate smiled, and said, "If I wished to go down with her I might."
+
+"Daisy is not going down, but up," replied Cornelius, taking me by the 
+hand and leading me to the studio; as we entered it he said--
+
+"Daisy, you knocked at the door yesterday, and stood on the threshold: I 
+won't have that again."
+
+"Very well, Cornelius; shall I arrange the portfolios?"
+
+"If you like."
+
+I looked over them for awhile, then could not help observing--
+
+"Cornelius, they look just as I left them."
+
+"Perhaps they are: one cannot be always looking at those old things."
+
+I put by the portfolio and looked around me. In a corner I perceived 
+Medora; I knew enough of painting to see at a glance that it had scarcely 
+been touched since I had left home. Cornelius was very apt to begin 
+pictures, and leave them by for some other fancy: Medora had thus 
+replaced the Stolen Child, but I looked in vain for the successor of 
+Medora.
+
+"Where is it, Cornelius?" I asked at length.
+
+"Where is what, child?" he replied, turning round.
+
+"The other picture."
+
+"What other picture?"
+
+"The one for which you put by Medora."
+
+I was looking at him very earnestly: I saw him redden.
+
+"There is no other picture," he answered; "I have been obliged to work 
+for money; to do such things as this," he added, pointing with a sigh to 
+the painting which he was copying.
+
+"Have you earned much money?" I asked seriously.
+
+"A little," he replied smiling.
+
+"Do you think you will sell the Happy Time?"
+
+"I have hopes of it: why do you ask, child?"
+
+"Because by putting all your money together, you will be able to begin 
+it."
+
+"Begin what?"
+
+"The picture."
+
+"But, child, there is no picture," he answered impatiently.
+
+I looked at him with astonishment that seemed to embarrass him. I knew 
+from Kate that the Happy Time had been received with perfect indifference 
+by the public and critics, and that, under such circumstances, Cornelius 
+should neither be painting a picture nor yet contemplating one, seemed 
+incredible. What ailed his mind, once so full of projects? What had 
+become of our gallery? I could not understand it. For some hours I sat 
+watching him at his copy, until at length he put it by, saying--
+
+"Thank heaven, it is finished!"
+
+"Are you going to begin another?" I inquired.
+
+"Not to-day; I hope to get some work to-morrow though."
+
+"You hope? do you like it, Cornelius?"
+
+"You know well enough I hate it," he answered with evident irritation; 
+"ah! Daisy, when shall I be a free man?"
+
+He looked depressed, but for a moment only; the next he turned to me 
+saying--
+
+"Perhaps you would like to go down to Kate?"
+
+"No, Cornelius, I would rather stay and look on at you painting."
+
+"You are very obstinate. I have told you over and over that I am not 
+going to paint. Paint! what could I paint?"
+
+"Medora."
+
+"I want Miss Russell, who is at Hastings with her aunt; even if she were 
+here, it is ten to one whether she could give me a sitting, the smell of 
+the paint gave her such dreadful headaches, that it is a mercy they did 
+not end in neuralgia. And now, child, go downstairs or stay here just as 
+you like, but do not disturb me any more; I have a letter to write."
+
+He opened his desk and began writing. Once or twice I ventured to speak, 
+but he told me so shortly that he could not attend to me, and it was so 
+plain that painting was nothing to letter-writing, that I at length 
+remained silent. This lasted until dinner-time. After dinner Cornelius 
+went to post his letter--an office he never entrusted to profane hands; I 
+remained alone with Kate; I could not help speaking to her.
+
+"Does not Cornelius paint any more pictures?" I asked, looking up at her.
+
+"Ah! you have found it out, have you?" she replied, a little bitterly; 
+"why, child, he has been losing his time in the most miserable fashion. 
+Not that he did not work, poor fellow; he worked himself to death, all to 
+get married to her; but she changed her mind; suddenly discovered he was 
+too young, that it must be deferred, and, leaving him to enjoy his 
+disappointment, went off to Hastings a fortnight ago. He was quite cut up 
+for the first week; but he is coming round now, only I fancy he is 
+getting rather sick of slop-work, that leads to nothing, not even to 
+marriage. As for her, poor thing, if she is gone with the belief that 
+Cornelius is the man to sit down and make a woman the aim of his life, 
+she will find herself wofully mistaken, I can tell her."
+
+More than this Miss O'Reilly did not say, but everything confirmed her 
+words. When Cornelius came in, he said it was a beautiful afternoon, and 
+that, if I liked, he would take me for a stroll in the lanes. I felt 
+myself reddening for joy; this was, I knew, a great favour, and showed 
+that Cornelius must be quite in the mood for petting and indulging me. He 
+liked me, but he was not fond of walking out with me; his walks were 
+almost always solitary, and extended for miles into the country. I 
+therefore replied with a most eager "Yes," and got ready so promptly, 
+that in less than ten minutes Cornelius and I were again wandering in the 
+lanes hand in hand. When I felt tired we sat down on a fallen tree. I 
+enjoyed the blue sky with its light vapoury clouds; the warm, ardent 
+sunshine; the sharply defined, though ever-waving shadow of the tall tree 
+under whose shelter we rested; the vivid green of the opposite hedge, 
+through whose verdure shone the cool white flowers of the bind-weed; the 
+rich luxuriant grass that rose from the ditch all straight and still in 
+the burning heat of the day; the breeze that now and then passed over and 
+through all this little wilderness; the low hum of insects; the song of 
+birds from distant parks and gardens; everything charmed--enchanted me, 
+but nothing half so much as sitting thus again near Cornelius.
+
+"Daisy," he exclaimed, suddenly perceiving that which had until then 
+escaped his attention, "what on earth are you carrying?"
+
+"Your sketch-book, Cornelius; you had forgotten it."
+
+He looked at me as if he attributed to me some secret motive, of which I 
+was certainly innocent. I had never known Cornelius to go out without his 
+sketch-book, and I dreamt of nothing beyond my words and their simplest 
+meaning.
+
+"Did you not want it?" I asked, surprised at his fixed glance.
+
+"No," was the short reply.
+
+"But there is no harm in having brought it; is there, Cornelius?"
+
+"None, save that you have burdened yourself uselessly: give it to me."
+
+"May I not look at it?" 
+
+"You may, but you will find nothing new." 
+
+This was not strictly correct; I at once detected and pointed out to 
+Cornelius several sketches new to me, and, though he at first denied it, 
+the dates proved me to be in the right.
+
+"You have a good memory," he said, smiling. 
+
+"As if it were likely I should forget any of your drawings or sketches! 
+But why is not that last one of the two boys finished? it looks so 
+pretty."
+
+"It would have been a nice little thing," he replied, looking at it with 
+regret, "and I had bribed them into sitting so quietly, but Miriam said 
+they were tired, and insisted on my releasing them. I had lured them into 
+the garden. She opened the door, and they scampered off."
+
+"What a shame!" I exclaimed, with a degree of indignation that amused 
+Cornelius; but for all that he shut up the sketch-book, which was no more 
+opened that day. Our walk over, we came home; the evening, warm and 
+summer-like, was pleasantly spent in the garden.
+
+Early on the following morning Cornelius went out to look for the 
+promised work. The first thing he did on coming home was to read the 
+letter that lay waiting for him on the breakfast-table; when that was 
+done he condescended to sit down and eat. Kate asked if he had succeeded 
+in accomplishing his errand.
+
+"No, indeed," he replied, with evident irritation. "Mr. Redmond was not 
+even at home. I shall have the pleasure of another journey. Oh! Kate, I 
+am sick of it!"
+
+He sighed profoundly, then took up his letter, and went upstairs.
+
+"Yes, yes, go and write," muttered Kate as the door closed upon him, 
+"lose your time, waste your days, that is just what she wants. Midge, 
+will you never leave off that habit of looking and listening? go 
+upstairs, only do not talk to Cornelius whilst he is writing, or he will 
+fly out: I warn you."
+
+I obeyed. I went up to the studio, entered softly, and closed the door 
+very gently: yet Cornelius heard me, for he looked up at once from his 
+writing.
+
+"My dear," he said, "there will be neither painting nor drawing to-day."
+
+"Am I in the way, Cornelius?"
+
+"No, but you will have to stay quiet, and when I have done writing I 
+shall go to town again."
+
+I accepted the conditions, and obeyed them so scrupulously that I did not 
+once open my lips until Cornelius, turning round and looking at me as I 
+lay on the couch, asked if I did not feel tired. I replied, I did not 
+mind, and was his letter finished?
+
+"I have only a few lines more to add," he answered.
+
+The few lines must have been pages, they took so long to indite. The 
+little studio was burning hot; Cornelius was too much absorbed to be 
+conscious of this, but I felt faint and drowsy. I drew myself up on the 
+couch, laid my head on the cushion, looked at him as he bent with 
+unwearied ardour over his desk, then closed my eyes and fell asleep to 
+the sound of his pen still zealously running along the paper.
+
+I know not how long I slept; I was partly awakened by a sound of 
+whispering voices.
+
+"The dinner will be ruined," said Kate.
+
+"What is a dinner in comparison with a drawing?"
+
+"I don't know--and don't care; a cook has no feelings."
+
+ "Another hour."
+
+"Do you want to make yourself and the child ill?"
+
+"I never know what hunger is whilst I am at work; and how can Daisy feel 
+the fasting whilst she sleeps? As soon as she wakens, I leave off."
+
+"Leave off now and finish to-morrow."
+
+"Oh, Kate! is it possible you do not see how very charming that attitude 
+is? I should never have hit on anything half so graceful or so 
+picturesque. The least movement on her part might spoil it."
+
+"I fancy I saw her stir."
+
+"I hope not," he replied hastily. I heard him approach; he bent over me, 
+for I felt his breath on my face, but I kept my eyes closed, and never 
+moved. Cornelius turned away, and whispering to his sister that there 
+never had been a deeper slumber, he begged of her to leave him. She 
+yielded, and I heard him securing himself against further intrusion by 
+locking the door, before he returned to his interrupted task.
+
+It was well for me that I had so long been accustomed to sitting, or I 
+could not have borne the hour that followed. Even as it was, I felt as if 
+Cornelius would never have done. At length he came up to me, took my 
+hand, and called me. I opened my eyes, and saw him standing by the couch, 
+and smiling down at me.
+
+"Why," he said gaily, "you are as bad as the sleeping beauty."
+
+I did not reply, but rose--he little guessed with how much pleasure. He 
+showed me the sketch he had been taking of me, and asked what I thought 
+of it. I could not answer; I felt so giddy and faint.
+
+"You are still half asleep," he observed, impatiently, "or you would see 
+at once I have not done anything half so good this long time."
+
+He held it out at arm's length, looked at it admiringly, then laid it by, 
+and went downstairs. I followed, but kept somewhat in the rear. I feared 
+both the keen eyes and the direct questions of Kate. Her first indignant 
+words, as we sat down to dinner, were--
+
+"I am astonished, Cornelius, at your cruelty; the poor child is pale with 
+fasting."
+
+"Indeed, Kate, I had to waken her."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Yes, it is peculiar," he quietly replied; "I hope it is not a bad 
+symptom."
+
+"A symptom indeed, as if I could believe in it! Why, she has been 
+imposing on you; look at her--guilty little thing!"
+
+Cornelius laid down his knife and fork to give me an astonished look.
+
+"Deceitful girl!" exclaimed Kate, quite sharply; "how dare you do such a 
+thing--to go and impose on Cornelius!--for shame!"
+
+She lectured me on the text with some severity.
+
+Cornelius never said to me one word of blame or approbation.
+
+"I hope," gravely observed his sister, when the meal was over, "you will 
+not let that pass, Cornelius. She must not be encouraged in deceit."
+
+"Certainly not; and I have already devised a punishment. Come here, 
+Daisy."
+
+I rose and obeyed.
+
+"Do you know," he said, as I stood before him, "that you have been guilty 
+of a very impertinent action--imposed upon me, as Kate says?"
+
+"Don't be too strict, Cornelius," put in Kate, "she meant well."
+
+"I have nothing to do with that: it was an impertinence; consequently, 
+instead of the week's holiday I meant to give her, she shall resume her 
+studies this very evening, and, lest you should prove too lenient, Kate, 
+I shall take care to examine her myself."
+
+I looked at him eagerly; he was smiling. I understood what the punishment 
+meant, and drawing nearer, I stooped to embrace him.
+
+"There never was such a girl!" he said, pretending to avert his face; 
+"she knows how vexed I am with her, and yet--you see it--she insists on 
+kissing me."
+
+"Foolish fellow, foolish fellow!" muttered Kate.
+
+I liked study, and I loved my dear master. I went and fetched a heap of 
+books, which I brought to him, breathlessly asking what I was to learn: 
+he had only to speak, I was ready; I was in a mood not to be frightened 
+at the severe face of Algebra herself. He replied, that we should first 
+see where I had left off with him, and how I had got on since then. The 
+examination was tedious, but Cornelius warmly declared that it did me 
+great credit, and that few girls of my age knew so well what they did 
+know. He appointed my tasks for the next day, then rose to go and smoke a 
+cigar in the garden, which, seen through the back-parlour window, looked 
+cool and grey in evening dusk.
+
+"Did you post your letter?" suddenly asked Kate.
+
+Cornelius looked startled and dismayed; it was plain he had forgotten all 
+about it.
+
+"What will she think?" he exclaimed, reddening: "it was the drawing did 
+it. How provoking!"
+
+He took two or three turns around the room, then observed cheerfully--
+
+"She will understand and excuse it when I explain the case--eh, Kate?"
+
+"Humph!" was her doubtful reply.
+
+"Yes she will," he confidently rejoined, and went out to smoke his cigar.
+
+I suppose the letter was duly posted on the following day. Cornelius went 
+out early and did not return until evening. He had been disappointed in 
+obtaining the work he hoped for; he had lost his day in looking for it, 
+and came home in all the heat of his indignation.
+
+"I give it up!" he exclaimed a little passionately, after relating his 
+disappointment to Kate; "and Mr. Redmond too, the Laban father of an 
+unsightly Leah, without even the prospect of a Rachel after the seven 
+years' bondage. Better live on bread and water than on the money which 
+costs so dear. There is no sweetness in that labour--I hate it--and 
+Miriam may say what she likes, there is no life like an artist's!"
+
+"What does she say?" asked Kate, laying down her work, and looking up at 
+him.
+
+"Not much, but I can see she thinks like you. I do not blame her or you. 
+What have I done to justify confidence? Only a foolish little thing, like 
+Daisy, could take me at my word, and have any faith in me."
+
+"What other profession does she wish you to follow?" inquired Kate.
+
+"None; but she thinks me too enthusiastic."
+
+"A man can't be too enthusiastic about his profession," warmly responded 
+Kate.
+
+"Indeed then you never said a truer thing."
+
+"If you think it is your vocation to paint pictures, paint pictures with 
+all your might."
+
+"Won't I, that's all?" he replied, throwing back his head, and looking as 
+if, in vulgar parlance, he longed to be at it.
+
+"Ay, but the means?" emphatically said Kate.
+
+"Have I not got money?"
+
+"Which was to set up Hymen: well, no matter, it is not much, and cannot 
+last for ever. What will you do when it is out?"
+
+"Borrow from you, Kitty," he replied, laying his hand on her shoulder 
+with a smile; "won't you lend to me?"
+
+"Not a shilling," she answered, looking him full in the face, "unless you 
+give me your word of honour not to go back to Laban and Leah."
+
+"'Faith, she is not such a beauty that I cannot keep the vow of 
+inconstancy to her," he said, rather saucily, "you have my word, Kate. 
+Well, what do you look so grave about?"
+
+"I am thinking, Cornelius, that I am meddling as I never meant to meddle; 
+that I am perhaps aiding to delay your marriage."
+
+Her look was bent attentively on his face.
+
+"Not a bit," he promptly replied; "I consider every picture I paint as a 
+step taken to the altar. Besides," he philosophically added, "I was only 
+twenty-three the other day. There is no time lost."
+
+"They are all alike," indignantly said Kate: "two weeks ago you were half 
+mad because your marriage was delayed, now you talk of there being no 
+time lost."
+
+"Since I am to wait," coolly replied Cornelius, "I confess the more or 
+less does not make so great a difference. I was rather indignant at 
+first, but since then I have thanked Miriam."
+
+"You have?" said Kate.
+
+"Indeed I have. It would have spoiled my prospects, and though she did 
+not say so, that I am sure was her reason for disappointing me. She shall 
+not again complain of my unreasonable impatience. I am quite resolved not 
+to think of Hymen until, love apart, a woman may take some pride in me."
+
+"They are all alike, all alike," again said Kate; "love for a bit, 
+ambition for life."
+
+Cornelius laughed.
+
+"Miriam would despise me," he observed, "if I could sit down in idleness. 
+Besides, love is a feeling, not a task: it may pervade a lifetime; I defy 
+it to fill an entire day without something of weariness creeping in. 
+There is nothing like work in this world,--nothing, Kate."
+
+"When do you mean to begin?"
+
+"To-morrow, of course."
+
+"What becomes of your letter?"
+
+"I shall write it this evening. And now, Daisy," he added, turning to me, 
+"let us see how you have studied."
+
+I brought my books, and the lessons filled--how pleasantly for me!--the 
+greater part of the evening, which Cornelius closed, as he said, by 
+writing his letter. I was scarcely dressed on the following morning, when 
+his voice summoned me from above. I ran up hastily; he was standing on 
+the landing, at the door of the studio, evidently waiting for me, and 
+evidently too in one of his impatient fits.
+
+"Loiterer!" was his greeting, "after such a sleep as you had yesterday, 
+could you not get up earlier?--two hours of broad daylight actually 
+gone!"
+
+"Did I know you wanted me, Cornelius?"
+
+"Did I know it myself? Now come in--look here--give me your opinion, your 
+candid opinion."
+
+When Cornelius asked for an opinion it was all very well, but when he 
+asked for a candid opinion he would never tolerate any save that which he 
+himself favoured. He was now in one of his most positive moods, so I 
+prepared for submission--an easy task, for I always thought him in the 
+right, and whatever my original opinion might have been, I invariably 
+came back to his in the end, as to the only true one. He led me to his 
+easel, on which I saw the long neglected Stolen Child.
+
+"I had forgotten all about it," said Cornelius, "but finding this morning 
+that I could not get on with Medora in the absence of Miriam, I looked 
+amongst the old things, whence I fished out this. Now, admitting that it 
+will not do for a picture, I think it will at least make an excellent 
+study--eh?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, a very good study indeed."
+
+"Why not a picture?" he asked, frowning.
+
+"It is not good enough," I replied, confidently.
+
+"You silly little thing, you must have forgotten all about pictures and 
+painting, to say so," rather hotly answered Cornelius. "Why a baby could 
+tell you I never began anything that promised better. Oh, Daisy! what am 
+I to think of your judgment? At all events," he added, softening down, 
+"if you are not yet a first-rate critic, you are a first-rate sitter. So 
+get ready. You need not mind about your Gipsy attire; all I want is the 
+face and attitude."
+
+I looked at the picture, drew back a few steps, and placed myself in the 
+old position.
+
+"The very thing," cried Cornelius, delighted. "Oh, Daisy, you are 
+invaluable to me."
+
+He began at once, and worked hard until breakfast, during which he could 
+speak of nothing but his Stolen Child.
+
+"A much better subject than Medora," he said, decisively; "there has been 
+too much of Byron's heroines."
+
+"Do you mean to throw it of one side?" asked Kate.
+
+"Oh no, I hope to have both pictures ready for next year's Academy; 
+pressed for time, I shall work all the harder and the better, Kate." 
+
+"Which will you finish first?"
+
+"The Stolen Child."
+
+"Well," said Kate, very quietly, "I have a fancy that it will be Medora."
+
+"How can it? Miriam is away for two months, you know."
+
+"Yes, but I have a fancy the sea-air will not agree with her," continued 
+Kate, in the same quiet way. 
+
+Cornelius looked at his sister with a somewhat perplexed air.
+
+"I don't know anything about that," he said, at length; "but I can go on 
+with the Stolen Child, and I hope to go on quickly too, Daisy sits so 
+well, you know."
+
+"I know she is as bad as you are; look at her swallowing down her tea as 
+fast as she can, to be in time."
+
+"She is a good little thing," he replied, patting my neck, "though I 
+cannot say she yet thoroughly knows what constitutes a good picture. 
+Don't hurry, Daisy; there is plenty of time."
+
+"But I am quite ready," I replied eagerly.
+
+"So am I; let us see who shall be upstairs first."
+
+"Cornelius, how can you be such a boy?" began Kate; I lost the rest, I 
+had started up, and was hastening upstairs all out of breath. Cornelius, 
+who could have outstripped me with ease, followed with pretended 
+eagerness, and laughed at my triumph.
+
+"I was first," I cried from the landing, and flushed and breathless I 
+looked round at him, as he stood on the staircase a few steps below me: 
+he gave me a pleased and surprised look.
+
+"Why, that child would be quite pretty if she had a colour," he observed 
+to himself; "poor little thing!" he added as he came up and stood by me, 
+"I wish I could keep that bloom on your little pale face: but it is 
+already going--the more's the pity!"
+
+"Indeed," I replied, "it is no pity at all, for the pale face is much the 
+best for the picture."
+
+This disinterested sentiment did not in the least surprise Cornelius, who 
+was too much devoted to his painting to think anything too good for it, 
+or any sacrifice too great. He confessed the pale face would make the 
+picture more pathetic, and was not astonished at my preferring it on that 
+account.
+
+We remained in the studio nearly the whole day. Kate, who did not seem 
+much pleased at this return to our old habits, significantly inquired in 
+the evening how much I had learned.
+
+"Nothing." replied Cornelius; "but to make up for it, I will help her; we 
+shall study together, so she will learn her lessons and repeat them at 
+the same time." 
+
+"That will be tedious, Cornelius." 
+
+"She gives me her days; I may well give her my evenings." 
+
+"And your letter?" 
+
+"I shall sit up."
+
+"Poor fellow!" compassionately said Kate, "what between painting, 
+teaching, and love, your hands are full."
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+ 
+
+For three months and more, Cornelius had neglected painting; he now 
+returned to it with tenfold ardour. I have often, since then, wondered at 
+the strange mistake Miriam committed in leaving him, and thinking she had 
+weaned him from his art; his passion for it was a part of his nature, and 
+not to be taken up or laid down at will.
+
+She was as much deceived with regard to me. Cornelius was too fond of me 
+in his heart, to give me up so readily as she had imagined. He liked me, 
+but besides this I think he also felt unwilling to lose my deep and 
+ardent love for himself. He knew better than any one its force and 
+sincerity, and it is dangerously sweet to tenderness, pride, and self-
+love, to be master of another creature's heart, as he was of mine. It was 
+when I had least chance of winning him back, when I was removed from his 
+sight, when he appeared to neglect me, when he might be supposed to have 
+forgotten me, and he seemed no longer called upon to trouble himself with 
+me, that he humbled his pride before my grandfather, to obtain again the 
+child he had slighted. I doubt if anything ever cost him more; I know 
+that this proof of faithful affection effaced every past unkindness.
+
+It was thus, when Miriam no doubt thought my day over, that unexpectedly, 
+and as the most natural tiling, he fetched and brought me home. His 
+temper, though yielding and easy in appearance, was in reality most 
+obstinate and pertinacious. He seemed to give in, but he ever came back 
+to his old feeling or opinion, and that too with an unconsciousness of 
+his offence which must have been most irritating. In spite of the hints 
+of Kate, I am sure he had not the faintest suspicion that, in devoting 
+himself to painting or in bringing me home, he had done that which could 
+annoy Miriam. Her letters, of course, expressed nothing but approbation 
+of the changes that had taken place in her absence. In order, I suppose, 
+to breed in me a kindly feeling towards his mistress, Cornelius took care 
+to read to me every passage in which I was mentioned as "the dear child," 
+and all such sentiments as "I am charmed to think dear little Daisy is 
+again with you," etc.
+
+In one sense, this was useless; in the other it was unnecessary. It was 
+useless, because my feelings towards Miss Russell could not change on 
+account of a few kind words in which I had no faith. It was unnecessary, 
+because not hatred, but jealousy, was what I felt against her; nothing 
+could and did mollify me so much as her absence. So long as she stayed 
+away, I did not envy her in the least the acknowledged preference of 
+Cornelius. Every evening when he sat down to write, I brought him of my 
+own accord pen, ink, and paper, and in the morning I ran unbidden to 
+fetch him his letter. I could even, when I saw him read it with evident 
+delight, participate in his pleasure, little as I loved her from whom it 
+came. My love was very ardent, but it was very pure; from my dawning 
+youth it caught perhaps something of passion, but it also kept all the 
+innocence of my childhood, scarcely left behind.
+
+Cornelius, I believe, felt this, and as there is nothing more delightful 
+than to inspire or feel a pure affection, I can now understand why he 
+found a charm which Kate could not feel, in yielding to this. Often in 
+our moments of relaxation when I sat by him on the couch, he would turn 
+to me with a smile, and, stooping, leave on my brow a kiss as innocent as 
+it was light, feeling, perhaps,--what I never felt, for I never thought 
+of it--that he was now receiving the purest affection he could ever hope 
+to inspire, and feeling the most disinterested tenderness he ever could 
+hope to feel for child or maiden not of his blood. I was growing older, 
+more able to understand him, more fit to be his companion, and this might 
+be the reason that he now became more kind and friendly than ever he had 
+been. Nothing could exceed his care of me: absorbed in his picture though 
+he might seem, he was quick to detect in me the least sign of weariness, 
+and imperative in exacting the rest I was loath to take. For the sate of 
+the air he made me go down to the garden and often accompanied me.
+
+I remember well one August afternoon, warm and breezy, when sitting 
+together on the bench that stood by the porch, we looked from within the 
+cool shadow of the house and through the air quivering with heat, on the 
+ardent sunshine that seemed to vivify every object on which it touched. 
+The garden flowers around us had that vivid brilliancy of hue of which 
+the shade deprives them, to lend them, it is true, a more pensive grace; 
+even the old sun-dial wore a gay look, and seemed to mark the hour as if 
+it cared not for the passing of time. Every glittering leaf of the two 
+poplars lightly trembled and appeared instinct with being; the garden-
+door stood open, and gave a bright though narrow glimpse of the lane, 
+with its yellow path, its low green hedge, and beyond it a blue line of 
+horizon. There was no scenery, no landscape, scarcely even that 
+picturesque grace which every-day objects sometimes wear, but with that 
+warm sunshine, that dazzling light and air so transparently clear, none 
+could look and say that there was not beauty. For if Summer possesses not 
+the green hope of Spring, the brown, meditative loveliness of Autumn, it 
+has a glow, a fullness, a superabundance of life quite its own. Earth is 
+truly living and animate then; she and the sun have it all their way, and 
+seem to rejoice--he in his power and strength--she in her life and 
+beauty.
+
+"'Faith, this is pleasant!" observed Cornelius, throwing himself back on 
+the bench, "a summer's day never can be too hot or too long--eh, Daisy?"
+
+"I suppose not, Cornelius, but I hope it is not for me you are staying 
+here, because I am quite rested."
+
+"So you want me to go up and work."
+
+"You know, Cornelius, you often say there is nothing like painting 
+pictures."
+
+"No more there is; and you must learn and paint pictures too. Well, you 
+do not look transported."
+
+Nor was I. My few attempts at drawing had convinced me that Nature had 
+not intended me to shine in Art.
+
+"What do I want to paint pictures for?" I asked. "You do; that is 
+enough."
+
+"But to be my pupil?"
+
+"Yes, that would be pleasant."
+
+"To work in the same studio; have an easel--"
+
+"Near yours. Yes, Cornelius, I should like that."
+
+"Yes," said a very sweet, but very cold voice, "the artist is loved 
+better than his art."
+
+We both looked up to the back-parlour window above us, whence the voice 
+proceeded. Miriam was standing there in the half-shadow of the room; her 
+fair head was bare; her cashmere scarf fell back from her graceful 
+shoulders; one hand held the light lace bonnet which she had taken off, 
+the other, ungloved and as transparently fair as alabaster, rested on the 
+dark iron bar of the balcony. She looked down at us, smiling from above, 
+calm, like a beautiful image in her frame. Cornelius looked up, gave a 
+short joyous laugh, and lightly bounding over the three stone steps, he 
+vanished under the ivied porch, and was by her side in a minute.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed, and the very sound of his voice betrayed his delight, 
+"I did not expect you for weeks yet."
+
+"My aunt is still at Hastings; but I was obliged to leave, the air made 
+me so unwell."
+
+"And you never told me."
+
+"Why alarm you?"
+
+I waited to hear no more I had seen Cornelius leading her away from the 
+window into the back part of the room, and Miriam with a half-smile 
+yielding. I had no wish to be a check upon them, so I rose and slipped 
+upstairs to the studio.
+
+I sat down on the couch, trembling with emotion. She was come back, and 
+with her, alas! as the evil train of some dark sorceress, came back all 
+my old feelings. The very sound of her voice had roused them every one. I 
+heard them and listened with terror, for, taught by bitter experience, I 
+knew that, evil in themselves, they could work me nothing but evil. I 
+remembered with a sickening heart all the bitterness which had been 
+raised between Cornelius and me,--his angry looks, his chiding, our 
+separation. I remembered also his goodness in bringing me back, his 
+generosity in asking me for no promise of amendment, but in trusting to 
+my good feeling and good sense, and throwing myself on God, as on Him who 
+alone could assist me in this extremity of human weakness, I felt rather 
+than uttered a passionate prayer for aid,--a cry for strength to resist 
+temptation.
+
+I had not long been in the studio, when the door opened and the lovers 
+entered. I believe Cornelius was a little apprehensive as to how I might 
+behave to Miriam, for rather hurriedly leading her to the easel, "See how 
+hard I have been working," he said: "in the absence of Medora, I took to 
+the Gipsy Family."
+
+"You mean to the Stolen Child: where is she?"
+
+"Here I am, Miss Russell." I replied in a low tone.
+
+I was now standing by her, and as I spoke I slipped my hand into hers. 
+She started as if some noxious insect had touched her; but as Cornelius 
+had seen this action of mine, she smiled and said--
+
+"Do you really give me your hand? The next thing will be a kiss, I 
+suppose."
+
+I thought she was asking me to kiss her. I conquered my repugnance, and 
+raised my face; she hesitated, then stooped, but her lips never touched 
+my cheek.
+
+"Daisy and I are quite friends now, you see," she observed, turning to 
+Cornelius.
+
+"Yes, I see," he replied, looking charmed.
+
+"I always told you these childish feelings would pass away," she 
+continued, laying her hand on my head.
+
+He smiled in her face, a happy, admiring smile.
+
+"Resume your work," she said, sitting down; "Miss O'Reilly has asked me 
+to spend the day."
+
+"But not here, Miriam; think of the smell of the paint."
+
+"I do not feel it yet, so pray go on with that Stolen Child. What 
+wonderful sweetness and pathos you have put in her face!"
+
+"Do you think so? I mean, do you really think so?" cried Cornelius quite 
+delighted; "well, Daisy has a very sweet face, I mean in expression, and 
+to tell you the truth," he added in the simplicity of his heart, "I have 
+done my best to improve it; I am glad you noticed that."
+
+"Then resume your work; you know I like to look on."
+
+He said, "Not yet," and as he sat down by her with the evident intention 
+of lingering away a few hours, I left them. I was neither detained nor 
+recalled.
+
+I behaved with sufficient fortitude. Unbidden, I gave up to Miriam my 
+place at table, and in the evening, of my own accord, I went to Kate for 
+my lessons, whilst Cornelius and his betrothed walked up and down in the 
+garden. I saw him once more engrossed with her, and, whatever I felt, I 
+betrayed no sign of pettish jealousy. When she left us, I was the first 
+to bid her good-night. Cornelius, without knowing how much these trifles 
+cost me, looked pleased and approving. He also looked--but with this I 
+had nothing to do--very happy.
+
+Miriam had left us, and previous to going to bed we sat all three in the 
+parlour by the open window, through which fell on the floor a soft streak 
+of pale moonlight; I had silently resumed my place by Cornelius, who had 
+laid his hand caressingly on my head, when Kate suddenly observed--
+
+"You see the sea-air did not agree with Miss Russell."
+
+"True, and yet she looks so well; more beautiful than ever."
+
+"I suppose you will be able to get on with Medora."
+
+"Not if the paint continues to affect Miriam."
+
+"Perhaps it will not," quietly answered Kate; "it did not give her those 
+dreadful nervous headaches before Daisy went to Miss Clapperton's; she 
+does not seem to have suffered today; ay, ay, Medora will soon be on the 
+easel."
+
+"I don't want her to be," rather hastily replied Cornelius, "I want to go 
+on with my Stolen Child. I was looking at Medora the other day, and, 
+spite of all the labour it cost me, I found something unnatural about 
+it."
+
+"Well, I cannot agree with you there," replied Kate; "I think the way in 
+which Medora's look seems to pierce the horizon for the faintest sign of 
+her lover's ship, is painfully natural."
+
+Cornelius did not answer. There was a change in his face--of what nature 
+no one perhaps could have told; but he suddenly turned to me and said--
+
+"Why did you not bring your books to me this evening? Mind, I will not 
+have more infidelities of that nature."
+
+He laughed, but the jest was forced; the laugh was not real. He looked 
+like one who vainly seeks to brave the sting of some secret pain, and as 
+I sat by him he bent on me a dreary, vacant look, that saw me not; but in 
+a few minutes, almost a few seconds, he was himself again.
+
+"No," he observed in his usual tone, "the other picture is much the best, 
+and with it I must now go on."
+
+In that opinion and decision Miriam fully concurred. Every day she came 
+up to the studio for awhile, and she never left without having admired 
+the Stolen Child, and, though very gently, depreciated Medora. One day in 
+the week that followed her return, as she stood behind Cornelius looking 
+at him painting, she was more than usually eloquent.
+
+"There is so much thought, sadness, and poetry about that figure," she 
+said,--"it expresses so well civilized intelligence captive amongst those 
+half-savage Gipsies, that I never look at it without a new feeling of 
+admiration."
+
+I detected the ill-repressed smile of proud pleasure which lit up the 
+whole countenance of Cornelius, but he carelessly replied--
+
+"I am glad you think so."
+
+Miriam continued.
+
+"The difference between this and Medora is even to me quite astonishing."
+
+Cornelius reddened; she resumed--
+
+"One is as earnest as the other is indifferent."
+
+"Indifferent!" he interrupted; "well, you know I do not think so highly 
+of Medora as of this; yet Kate, who is no partial judge, confesses that 
+there is earnestness in the look and attitude of the figure."
+
+"Yes, but rather cold, that is to say, calm," quietly replied Miriam; "do 
+you not yourself think so?"
+
+He said, "Yes," and smiled a somewhat forced abstracted smile, continued 
+his work for some time without speaking, then suddenly leaving it by, he 
+went and fetched Medora.
+
+"Come, where is that great difference?" he asked resolutely.
+
+"I feel it," was her quiet answer.
+
+He looked at her, and, without insisting, put away the painting.
+
+The matter seemed dismissed from his mind, but the next morning, when I 
+went up to the studio a little after breakfast, I found Medora on the 
+easel and Cornelius looking at it intently. Without turning to me, he 
+called me to his side.
+
+"Now Daisy," he said, laying his hand on my shoulder, "tell me frankly, 
+candidly, if you think Medora so very inferior to the other one."
+
+"No, indeed, Cornelius," I replied eagerly.
+
+"She is always abusing it." he continued in an annoyed tone; "yesterday 
+evening in the garden she hoped I would not think of finishing and 
+exhibiting it."
+
+"What a shame!" I exclaimed indignantly.
+
+"No, my dear; Miriam does well to give me her candid opinion; I hope it 
+is what you will always do."
+
+"But, Cornelius," I ventured to object, "do you think Miss Russell knows 
+much about painting?"
+
+"To tell you the truth," confidently answered Cornelius, "I do not think 
+she does. She has natural taste, but no experience. Now you," he added, 
+turning to me with a smile, "you, my pet, though such a child, know of 
+painting about ten times as much as she does, and, although it would not 
+do to say so to her, I could trust to your opinion ten times sooner than 
+to hers."
+
+I was foolish enough to be pleased with this. 
+
+"I hope," continued Cornelius, "to be able to improve her taste; in the 
+meanwhile, I think, like you, Daisy, that Medora is almost equal to the 
+Stolen Child."
+
+I had never said anything of the kind, but Cornelius was evidently 
+convinced I had, and I knew not how to set him right.
+
+"Yes," he resumed, looking at the picture, "it improves as you look at 
+it. That little bit of rock-work in the foreground is not amiss, is it, 
+Daisy?"
+
+"It is just like the rocks at Leigh," I replied.
+
+"Is it though?" exclaimed Cornelius, chucking my chin, a sign of great 
+pleasure, "I am glad of it; not that I care about the rocks, not a pin; 
+but it is always satisfactory to know that one is true to nature, even in 
+minor points. And so there were some like them at Leigh! Well, no matter; 
+I gave of course my chief attention to the figure, and that I think is 
+pretty well." 
+
+He looked me in the face with the simplicity of a child; listened to my 
+enthusiastic praise with evident gratification, and, with great 
+_na?vet?_, confessed "that was just his own opinion." We were interrupted 
+by the unexpected entrance of Miriam, who came earlier than usual.
+
+"There!" triumphantly exclaimed Cornelius, "the case is decided against 
+you; I have appealed to Daisy, and like me she does not see so very great 
+a difference between Medora and the Stolen Child."
+
+"Does she not?" carelessly replied Miriam, as she sat down without 
+looking at the picture.
+
+"I see what it is," he said in a piqued tone, "you think I have not done 
+you justice."
+
+"Nothing of the kind," she answered smiling.
+
+"Ah! if I did not fear to injure your health," reproachfully continued 
+Cornelius, "I would soon show you that Medora could be made not quite 
+unworthy of Miriam."
+
+"But really," she replied in her indolent way, "I only said it was a 
+little calm."
+
+"Cold, Miriam. Ah! if you would only give me as a sitting the hour you 
+spend here daily, how soon I could improve that cold Medora."
+
+She flatly refused; she could not think of letting him lay by his Stolen 
+Child, that promised so well for so inferior a production as Medora. It 
+was only after half an hours hard begging and praying, that Cornelius at 
+length obtained her consent. He set to work that very instant,--she sat 
+not one hour, but two; I looked on with the vague presentiment that 
+Cornelius and I were very simple.
+
+Of course, though not at once, the Stolen Child was again laid aside for 
+Medora. Cornelius said it made no difference, since he could finish the 
+two pictures with ease for the ensuing year's Exhibition. Kate made no 
+comment, but quietly asked if the smell of the paint had ceased to affect 
+Miss Russell.
+
+"Oh dear, yes, quite," replied her brother with great candour.
+
+Cornelius was both good and great enough to afford a few unheroic 
+weaknesses, such as paternal fondness for his pictures, and too generous 
+a trust in the woman he loved, for him to suspect her of seeking to 
+influence him by unworthy arts. I believe it was this simple and 
+ingenuous disposition that made him be so much loved, and rendered those 
+who loved him so lenient to his faults. He had his share of human 
+frailties, but he yielded to them so naturally, that he never seemed 
+degraded as are the would-be angels in their fall. Even then, and though 
+youth is prompt and severe to judge those whom it sees imposed upon, I 
+never could respect Cornelius less, for knowing him to be deceived.
+
+My old life now began anew in many of its trials, though not perhaps in 
+all its bitterness. Miriam tried to deprive me of the teaching of 
+Cornelius, and he, without even suspecting her intention, resisted it 
+with the most provoking simplicity and unconsciousness. In vain she came 
+in evening after evening as we sat down to the lessons, spoke to him, or 
+disturbed me with her fixed look; the studies were not interrupted. One 
+evening, as we sat by the open window of the front parlour, engaged as 
+usual, Miriam, who had sat listening to us with great patience, observed, 
+a little after Kate had left the room--
+
+"How good and kind of you, Cornelius, to teach that child so devotedly! 
+Many men would disdain the task, you know."
+
+"Think it foolish, perhaps?" he suggested.
+
+"I fear they would."
+
+"What fools they must be, Miriam!" he replied, smiling in her face.
+
+"You are wise to put yourself above their opinion."
+
+"As if I thought of their opinion!" he answered gaily. "Come, Daisy, 
+parse me this: 'A certain great, unknown artist, once had a little girl. 
+He was not ashamed to unbend his mighty mind by teaching her every 
+evening. On one occasion, it is said, he actually disgraced himself so 
+far as to kiss her.'"
+
+I was listening with upraised face. I got the kiss before I knew what he 
+meant. But I was not going to be discomposed by such a trifle, and I 
+parsed as if nothing had occurred.
+
+"Isn't she cool?" he said, turning to Miriam.
+
+"She improves wonderfully," replied his betrothed.
+
+"Does she not?" exclaimed Cornelius, who took a very innocent vanity in 
+my progress; "I am quite proud of my pupil; and I have a system of my 
+own--did you notice?"
+
+"Oh yes, in the parsing."
+
+"I don't mean that," he answered, reddening a little; "I mean a general 
+system, a method,--the want of all education, you know."
+
+"Yes, very true."
+
+"Well," continued Cornelius, looking at me thoughtfully, and laying his 
+hand on my head as he spoke; "I think that, thanks to this method, I 
+shall, four or five years hence, be able to boast that I have helped to 
+form the mind and character of an intellectual, sensible, and 
+accomplished girl."
+
+"Four or five years hence!" sighed Miriam.
+
+Cornelius perhaps remembered the threat of death suspended over my whole 
+youth, for he observed uneasily--
+
+"Yes--I trust--I hope--Daisy, you must not learn so much!"
+
+He drew me nearer to him with a look and motion kinder than a caress, 
+then said to Miriam--
+
+"She looks pale."
+
+"It is only excitement; she is so anxious to please you. When she is near 
+committing a mistake, she is quite agitated, poor child!"
+
+Miriam had struck the right chord at last. There was some truth in what 
+she said. My desire to please Cornelius did agitate me a little, and this 
+he knew.
+
+"She must go back to Kate," he hastily observed; "I won't have her so 
+pale as that; and she must not study so much," he added, with increased 
+anxiety, "she can always make up for lost time."
+
+In vain I endeavoured to keep my teacher, he was resolute; it was some 
+comfort that the change sprang from no unkindness, and had been effected 
+only by working on his affection for me. But even that change, such as it 
+was, did not last for more than a week. One evening, after listening to 
+Kate and me with evident impatience, Cornelius swept away the books from 
+before her, sat down between us, and, informing his sister that her 
+method was no good, he announced his intention of taking me once more 
+under his own exclusive care.
+
+"My method is as good as any," tartly replied Kate, "but the pupil who 
+frets for her first teacher cannot make much progress under the second."
+
+"Have you been fretting, Daisy?" asked Cornelius.
+
+I could not deny it; he smiled and caressed me. 
+
+"If it were any use remonstrating," said Kate, who looked half pleased, 
+half dissatisfied, "I should tell you, Cornelius, that you are very 
+foolish; not to lose time, I simply say this--you have taken Daisy from 
+me a second time, you may keep her."
+
+"I mean it," he answered gaily.
+
+At once he resumed his office. We had scarcely begun when Miriam entered. 
+She came almost every evening, for as her aunt was still at Hastings, 
+Cornelius never visited her. From the door I saw her look at us, as we 
+sat at the table, his arm on the back of my chair, his bent face close to 
+mine, with a mute, expressive glance.
+
+"Yes," said Cornelius, smiling, as he smoothed my hair, "I have got my 
+pupil back again. The remedy was found worse than the disease."
+
+Miriam smiled too. She gave up the point and attempted no more to deprive 
+me of my teacher, but I had to pay dear in the daytime for what I 
+received in the evening.
+
+Whilst she sat for Medora, I studied or sewed. She said little to me, but 
+every word bore its sting. Cornelius never detected the irony that lurked 
+beneath the seeming praise and apparent kindness. She tormented me with 
+impunity. There were so many points in which she could irritate my secret 
+wound; for I was still intensely jealous of her, and though Cornelius and 
+Kate thought me cured, she knew better.
+
+But suffering gives premature wisdom.
+
+I had entered my fourteenth year--I was no longer quite a child. When she 
+made me feel, as she did almost daily, that I was plain, sallow, and 
+sickly, my vanity smarted, but I reflected that Cornelius liked me in 
+spite of these disadvantages, and I bore the insult silently; when 
+however she made me see that Cornelius was devoted to her, that my place 
+in his heart was as far removed from hers, as she was above me in years, 
+beauty, and many gifts, I could scarcely bear it. That it should be so 
+was bad enough, but to be taunted with it by the intruder who had come 
+between him and me, wakened within me every emotion of anger and jealous 
+grief; yet I had sufficient power over myself to control the outward 
+manifestations of these feelings. Taught by the past, I mistrusted her. 
+Weeks elapsed, and she could not make me fall into my old errors, or 
+betray me into any outbreak of temper. But alas! even whilst I governed 
+myself externally, I sought not to rule my heart, which daily grew more 
+embittered against her. To this, and this only, I recognize it--I owed 
+what happened. But before proceeding further, I cannot help recording a 
+little incident which surprised me then, and which, when I look back on 
+those times, still gives me food for thought.
+
+The blind nurse of Miriam had returned with her from Hastings. I believe 
+Miss Russell never moved without this old woman, to whom she was 
+devotedly kind: she humoured her as she would have humoured a child, and, 
+amongst other things, indulged her in the homely fashion of sitting at 
+the front door of the house, in the narrow strip of garden that divided 
+it from the Grove. It had been a favourite habit of hers to sit thus 
+years back at the door of her cottage home; sightless though she was, she 
+liked to sit so still; in the absence of old Miss Russell she did so 
+freely. We too had a little front garden, divided from that of our 
+neighbours by a low trellis. I was seldom in it, unless to water the few 
+flowers it contained. I was thus engaged one calm evening, when the old 
+woman sat alone at her door. She was wrinkled and aged; yet she had a 
+happy, childish face, as if in feelings as well as in years she had 
+gently returned to a second infancy. I noticed that as I moved about she 
+bent her head and listened attentively.
+
+"Do you want anything?" I asked, going up to the partition near which she 
+sat.
+
+Her face brightened; she stretched out her hand, felt me, and smiled.
+
+"You are the little girl," she said eagerly.
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I am."
+
+"Is my blessed young lady with you?"
+
+"Miss Russell is in our garden with Cornelius."
+
+"I shall never see him," she sighed, "but I like his voice; he is very 
+handsome, isn't he?"
+
+"Kate says so, but I don't know anything about it."
+
+"Is he kind to you?"
+
+"He is very good to me and every one."
+
+"That's right;" she said eagerly; "better goodness than gold any day."
+
+"Cornelius will have gold too," I observed, piqued that he should be 
+thought poor; "he will earn a great deal of money and will be quite 
+rich."
+
+The old woman looked delighted and astonished.
+
+"I always said my blessed young lady would make a grand match," she said; 
+"and so he is to be rich! God bless the good young gentleman!"
+
+"He will be quite a great man," I resumed, "a Knight perhaps, or a 
+Baronet."
+
+She raised her hands.
+
+"Ah well!" she sighed, after brooding for a few moments over my words, 
+"he will have a blessed young lady for his wife, as good as she's 
+handsome; and," she added, turning towards me her sightless eyes and 
+gently laying her hand on my head, "and happy's the little girl that'll 
+be with my dear young lady."
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+ 
+
+Matters had gone on thus for about a month, when Cornelius sold his Happy 
+Time. Kate made him promise not to be extravagant; the only act of folly 
+of which he rendered himself guilty was not a very expensive one.
+
+One morning, when Miriam came to the studio, to sit as usual, Cornelius 
+produced a pair of morocco cases; each contained a silver filagree 
+bracelet: he asked her to choose one, and accept it. She was sitting in 
+the attire and attitude of Medora; he stood by her, his present in his 
+hand.
+
+"Must I really choose?" she said. "What will Miss O'Reilly say?"
+
+"Oh! the other is not for Kate, but for Daisy," he quietly answered.
+
+I saw a scarcely perceptible change on her face, but she abstained from 
+comment, gave an indifferent look to the two bracelets, and chose one, 
+saying briefly--
+
+"That one."
+
+Cornelius placed the rejected bracelet on the table before me, with a 
+careless--
+
+"There, my dear, that is for you."
+
+Then, without heeding my thanks, he devoted all his attention to the 
+delightful task of fastening on the beautiful wrist of his mistress the 
+bracelet she had accepted. He was a long time about it. The clasp, he 
+said, was not good: she allowed him to do and undo it as often as he 
+pleased. When he had at length succeeded, she looked down at her arm and 
+said, indolently, "How very pretty it is!"
+
+"The hand, or the bracelet?" he asked, smiling.
+
+"The bracelet, of course."
+
+"Do you really think so?" he exclaimed, looking much pleased; "I was 
+afraid you did not like it: it is of little value, you know."
+
+"It is very pretty," she said again.
+
+"Do you like jewelry?" he inquired, eagerly.
+
+"In a general way, no."
+
+He looked disappointed.
+
+"Why don't you like diamonds, pearls, and rubies?" he observed, with 
+smiling reproach, "that I might have the pleasure of thinking--cannot 
+give them to her now, but I shall earn them for her some day."
+
+"Yes, it is a pity," she replied, with gentle irony, "but I have a 
+quarrel with you: why have you forgotten your sister?"
+
+"Forgotten Kate! she never wears jewels, Miriam."
+
+She did not reply. He remained by her awhile longer, then set to work.
+
+It was very kind of Cornelius to have made me this present, and yet it 
+only irritated the secret jealousy it was meant to soothe. He had given 
+the two bracelets so differently. They were of equal value, perhaps of 
+equal beauty; but she had had the choice of the two; the rejected one had 
+been for me. He had scarcely placed mine before me, and fastened hers on 
+himself with lingering tenderness. He had carelessly heard or heeded my 
+murmured thanks; she had not thanked him, yet he had looked charmed 
+because she negligently approved his gift. In short, in the very thing 
+which he had intended to please me, Cornelius had unconsciously betrayed 
+the strong and natural preference that was my sole, my only true torment. 
+His gift had lost its grace. I put on the bracelet, looked at it on my 
+arm, then put it away again in its case, and read whilst she sat and he 
+painted.
+
+Towards noon she left us for an hour. Cornelius followed her out on the 
+landing; he had left the door ajar, and, involuntarily. I overheard the 
+close of their whispered conference. It referred to me. Cornelius was 
+asking if I did not look very pale. I had been rather poorly of late, and 
+he was kindly anxious about me.
+
+"To me she looks the same as usual," quietly answered Miriam: "she always 
+is sallow, and being so plain makes her look ill."
+
+"Why, that is true," replied Cornelius, seemingly comforted by this 
+reasoning.
+
+What more they said I heard not; my blood flowed like fire. I was plain, 
+I knew it well enough, but was he, of all others, to be told of it daily, 
+until at length I heard it, an acknowledged fact falling from his lips? 
+Was it something so unusual to be plain? Was I the first plain girl there 
+had ever been? Should I leave none of the race after me? I felt the more 
+exasperated that the tone of Miriam's voice told me she had not meant to 
+be overheard by me. She had not spoken to taunt me: she had simply stated 
+a fact that could not, it seemed, be disputed. Such reflections are 
+pleasant at no age, but in youth, with its want of independence, of self-
+reliance, with its sensitive and fastidious self-love, they are 
+insupportable.
+
+Cornelius, unconscious of the storm that was brooding within me, had re-
+entered the studio and resumed his work. He seemed in a mood as pleased 
+and happy as mine was bitter and discontented. He worked for some time in 
+total silence, then suddenly called me to his side. I left the table, 
+went up to him and stood by him with my book in my hand, waiting for what 
+he had to say. He laid his hand on my shoulder, and, with his eyes 
+intently fixed on Medora, "How is it getting on?" he asked.
+
+"It will soon be finished, Cornelius," I replied, and I wanted to go back 
+to my place, but he detained me.
+
+"You need not be in such a hurry. Look at that face--is it not 
+beautiful?"
+
+He could not have put a more unfortunate question. He looked at the 
+picture, but I knew he thought of the woman. I did not answer. He turned 
+round, surprised at my silence.
+
+"Don't you think it beautiful?" he asked incredulously.
+
+"No, Cornelius, I do not," I answered, going back to my place as I spoke.
+
+I only spoke as I thought; I had long ceased to think Miss Russell 
+handsome. Cornelius became scarlet, and said, rather indignantly, "It 
+would be more frank to say you dislike her, Daisy."
+
+"I never said I liked her," I answered, stung at this reproach of 
+insincerity, when my great fault was being too sincere.
+
+I said this, though I fully expected it would make him very angry, but he 
+only looked down at me with a smile of pity.
+
+"So you are still jealous," he observed quietly; "poor child! if you knew 
+how foolish, how ridiculous such jealousy seems to those who see it!"
+
+I would rather Cornelius had struck me than that he had said this; I 
+could not bear it, and burying my face in my hands, I burst into tears. 
+He composedly resumed his work, and said in his calmest tones--
+
+"If I were you, Daisy, I would not cry in that pettish way, but I would 
+give up a foolish feeling, and try and mend. Think of it, my poor child; 
+it is an awful thing to hate."
+
+My tears ceased; I looked up, and for once I turned round and retaliated 
+the accusation.
+
+"Cornelius," I said, "I do not hate Miss Russell half as much as she 
+hates me."
+
+"She hate you!" he exclaimed, with indignant pity, "poor child!"
+
+"And if she does not hate me," I cried, giving free vent to the gathered 
+resentment of weeks and months,--"if she does not hate me, Cornelius, why 
+was she so glad when she thought me disfigured with the small-pox, that 
+she should come up to look at me? Why did she give me a dress in which I 
+looked so ill, that you know Kate has never allowed me to wear it? Why 
+did she make you send me to school? Why did she come back from Hastings 
+and make you leave by the Stolen Child? Why did she want you to 
+discontinue teaching me? Why is there never a day but she reminds you 
+that I am sickly, plain, and sallow?"
+
+I rose as I enumerated my wrongs; Cornelius looked at me like one utterly 
+confounded.
+
+"You say I am jealous of her," I continued, gazing at him through 
+gathering tears; "I am, Cornelius, but I am not half so jealous as she 
+is, and yet I love you twice as well as she does. For your sake I would 
+not vex her, and she does all she can to make mc wretched. I could bear 
+your liking her much and me a little; but if she could she would not let 
+you like me at all. If you say a kind word to me or kiss me, she looks as 
+if it made her sick; she hates me, Cornelius, she hates me with her whole 
+heart." Tears choked my utterance. Cornelius sighed profoundly. 
+
+"Poor child," he said, with a look of great pity, "how can you labour 
+under such strange delusions?"
+
+I looked at him; he did not seem angry, very far from it. Alas! it was 
+but too plain; every word I had uttered had passed for the ravings of an 
+insane jealousy. Cornelius sat down and called me to his side.
+
+"Come here," he said kindly, "and let us reason together."
+
+"If you knew." he continued taking both my hands in his, "how thoroughly 
+blind you are, you would regret speaking thus. How can you imagine that 
+Miriam, who is so good, so kind, should--hate you? Promise me that you 
+will dismiss the idea."
+
+"I cannot--I know better--there is not a day but she torments me."
+
+"Poor child! you are your own tormentor. She torment you! look at that 
+beautiful face, and ask yourself, is it possible?"
+
+"Beautiful!" I echoed, "I don't think she is beautiful, Cornelius."
+
+"Yes, I know," he composedly replied, "but that is because you don't like 
+her."
+
+"No more I do," I exclaimed passionately, "nor anything of or about her: 
+no--not even your picture, Cornelius!"
+
+He dropped my hands; rose and looked down at me, flushed and angry.
+
+"You need not tell me that," he said indignantly, "the look of aversion 
+and hate you have just cast at that picture, shows sufficiently that 
+though the power to do the original some evil and injury may be wanting, 
+the will is not."
+
+He turned away from me, then came back.
+
+"But remember this," he said severely, and laying his hand on my shoulder 
+as he spoke, "that though you have presumed to reveal to me a feeling of 
+which you should blush to acknowledge the existence, I will not allow 
+that feeling to betray itself in any manner, however slight. Do you 
+hear?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius," I replied, stung at the unmerited accusation and 
+uncalled-for prohibition; "but if I am so wicked, can you prevent me from 
+showing it?"
+
+I did not mean that I would show it; but he took my words in their worst 
+sense, for his eyes lit as he answered--
+
+"I shall see if I cannot prevent it."
+
+I was too proud and too much hurt to enter on a justification. I left the 
+room; at the door I met Miriam, who gave me a covert look as she entered 
+the studio. I went to my room and remained there until dinner-time. 
+Cornelius took no notice of me; Miriam, who often dined with us, was, on 
+the other hand, very kind and attentive. I saw she had got it all out 
+from him. Kate behaved like one who knew and suspected nothing; admired 
+the bracelets, and seeing that I wanted to linger with her in the parlour 
+after the two had left it, she gaily told me to be off, for that she 
+wanted none of my company, as she was going out. I obeyed so far as 
+leaving the parlour went, but I did not enter the studio. I took refuge 
+in my own room, there to lament my sin and imprudence. I knew well enough 
+how wrong were the feelings I had expressed to Cornelius, and better 
+still how a few passionate words had undone a month's patience and silent 
+endurance. I stayed in my room until dusk; as daylight waned, I heard 
+Miriam leave and go down. I waited for awhile, then softly stole up to 
+the studio. I entered it with a beating heart, thinking to make my peace 
+with Cornelius. The room was vacant. I sat down by the table, hoping he 
+might return, but he did not. I lingered there, that if he called me down 
+to tea, he might thus give me an opportunity of speaking to him. He did 
+call me, but from the first floor.
+
+"What are you doing in the studio?" he asked, rather sharply when I went 
+down.
+
+"I went up to speak to you, Cornelius."
+
+"And you therefore looked for me in a place where I never am at this 
+hour! Say you went up there to indulge in a fit of sulkiness, and do not 
+equivocate."
+
+I could not answer, I was too much hurt by his unkind tone and manner. Of 
+course I ventured no attempt at reconciliation.
+
+It was Miriam who made the tea.
+
+The meal was silent and soon over. The lovers went out in the garden. I 
+remained alone. Ere long Deborah looked in.
+
+"I am going out, Miss," she said, "is there anything wanted?"
+
+I replied that she had better ask her master.
+
+The back-parlour door and window stood open. I heard her question and his 
+answer, "Nothing;" then she left, and I saw her go down the Grove.
+
+It was getting quite dark, yet Cornelius and Miriam lingered out 
+together. I fancied they were taking a walk in the lanes; but on going to 
+the back-parlour window, I saw them both standing by the sun-dial. The 
+moon shone full upon them, on her especially; and even I, seeing her 
+thus, was bitterly obliged to confess the beauty I had vainly denied in 
+the morning. She still wore the white robe of Medora, and, standing by 
+the sun-dial with her magnificent bare arm resting upon it, she looked 
+like a beautiful statue of repose and silence.
+
+Cornelius stood by her, holding her other hand clasped in his, but silent 
+too. "You have lost it again," he said at length.
+
+"Look for it," was her careless reply.
+
+He stooped, picked up something from the grass; she held out her arm to 
+him with indolent grace. I suppose it was the bracelet he fastened on. In 
+the act, he raised unchecked, that fair arm to his lips.
+
+I had not come there to watch them; besides, my heart was swelling fast 
+within me. I turned away and again went to the front parlour. I sat by 
+the windows. Ere long I heard some one in the passage; then the front 
+door was opened; I saw Miriam pass slowly through the front garden, 
+gather a rose, open the gate, and turn to her own door. Now at length I 
+could speak to Cornelius. I ran out eagerly to the garden; he was not 
+there. I called him; he did not answer. I went up-stairs and knocked at 
+his room door; not there either was he; I sought the studio and peeped in 
+with the same result. It was plain too he was gone out, and that I was 
+alone in the house. I was not afraid, but felt the disappointment, and I 
+sat down at the head of the staircase in a dreary, desolate mood. I had 
+not been there more than a few minutes, when I heard a step coming up 
+which I recognized as that of Cornelius.
+
+"Is that you, Daisy?" he asked, stopping short and speaking sharply.
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+"I thought you were here, Cornelius."
+
+"You knew I was out."
+
+"No, Cornelius, I did not."
+
+"It is very odd; Miriam heard you answering me when I asked you from the 
+garden if Deborah was come back."
+
+"Miss Russell must have been mistaken, Cornelius. I did not hear you, and 
+I did not answer. I came here to look for you; indeed I did."
+
+"Very well," he replied, carelessly, "let me pass; I want to go up."
+
+I rose, but as I did so, I said again, "It was to look for you I came up 
+here, Cornelius."
+
+I hoped he would ask me what I wanted with him, but he only replied, very 
+coldly, "I never said the contrary," and he passed by me to enter the 
+studio, where he began seeking for something.
+
+"What have you done with the matchbox?" he at length asked impatiently.
+
+"I never touched it. Cornelius: but if you want anything, you know I can 
+find it for you without a light."
+
+He did not answer, but continued searching up and down. I pressed my 
+services.
+
+"Let me look for it, Cornelius, I do not want a light, you know."
+
+"Thank you," he drily replied, "I have what I want now; but I must 
+request you no longer to meddle with my books. I have just found on the 
+floor the volume I left on the table. It puzzles me to understand what 
+you can want in the studio at this hour."
+
+Thus speaking, he shut the door, locked it, and, putting the key in his 
+pocket, he went downstairs without addressing another word to me. I felt 
+so disconcerted, that every wish for explanation vanished; but even had 
+it remained, the opportunity was not mine. When I followed him 
+downstairs, I found him in the parlour with Kate, who was wondering 
+"where Deborah could be?"
+
+"How is it you said Deborah was in?" asked Cornelius, turning to me.
+
+"I never said so, Cornelius."
+
+"Miss Russell heard you."
+
+"She cannot have heard me," I replied, indignantly; "I don't know why you 
+will not believe me as well as her."
+
+Cornelius gave me a severe look.
+
+"You were not accused," he said, "and need not have justified yourself in 
+that tone."
+
+Kate gave us a quick glance, and said abruptly--
+
+"I am astonished at Deborah; you might have wanted to go out."
+
+"I did go out," replied Cornelius, "thinking she was in; but I only 
+stayed out a few minutes."
+
+"Did Daisy remain alone?"
+
+"I suppose so, for as I went out by the back door, Miriam left by the 
+front; but the neighbourhood is safe, and Daisy is surely not so silly as 
+to be afraid."
+
+"She looks very pale," observed Kate: "what have you been doing to her?"
+
+"What has she been doing to me?" he coldly answered.
+
+Kate sighed, and laying her hand on my shoulder, she looked down at me 
+compassionately.
+
+"Go to bed, child," she said kindly.
+
+I did not ask better. She kissed me, and again said I was very pale; her 
+brother never raised his eyes from his book. I thought him unkind and 
+myself ill-used. I was proud, even with him; I left the room without 
+bidding him good-night, and went to bed without seeking a reconciliation.
+
+I awoke the next morning in a miserable, unhappy mood. Kate noticed my 
+downcast looks and sullen replies at breakfast, and said, rather 
+sharply--
+
+"I should like to know what is the matter with you, child."
+
+I did not answer, but looked sulkily down at my cup; when I chanced to 
+raise my eyes, they met the gaze of Cornelius fastened intently on my 
+face. I felt my colour come and go. With a sense of pain I averted my 
+look from his. Immediately after breakfast, and without asking me to 
+accompany him, he went up to his studio; he had not been there long, and 
+I was still listening to the lecture of Kate, who reproved me for being 
+so ill-tempered, when we heard the voice of her brother, calling out from 
+above in a tone that sounded strange--
+
+"Daisy!"
+
+I obeyed the summons. Cornelius stood on the landing waiting for me. He 
+made me enter the studio, then followed me in and closed the door. I 
+looked at him and stood still; his brow was pale and contracted; his 
+brown eyes, so pleasant and good-humoured, burned with a lurid light; his 
+lips were white and thin, and quivered slightly. Never had I seen him so. 
+He took me by the hand--he led me to his easel.
+
+"Look!" he said, in a low tone.
+
+But I could not take my eyes from his face. 
+
+"Look!" he said again.
+
+I obeyed mechanically, and started back with dismay. Where the fair, 
+intent face of Medora had once looked towards the blue horizon, now 
+appeared an unsightly blotch. I looked incredulously at first; at length 
+I said--
+
+"How did it happen, Cornelius?"
+
+"You mean, who did it?" he replied.
+
+"Did any one do it, then?" I asked, looking up in his face.
+
+He folded his arms across his breast, and looked down at me.
+
+"You ask if any one did it!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, for who could do it, when you know there was no one in 
+the house but ourselves?"
+
+"Very true, no one but ourselves," he answered, with a smile of which I 
+did not understand the full meaning. "It could not be Kate, for she was 
+out?"
+
+"And so was Deborah," I quickly suggested.
+
+"Ay, and Miss Russell left at the same time with me."
+
+"And I am quite sure no one entered the studio whilst you were out, 
+Cornelius, for I was sitting at the head of the staircase."
+
+"And I am quite as sure no one entered it at night, for I had the key in 
+my pocket."
+
+"Then you see that no one did it," I replied, looking up at him.
+
+"I see," he said, laying his hand on my shoulder, and bending his look on 
+mine,--"I see no such thing, Daisy. I see that only two persons can have 
+done the deed--you or I--I'll leave you to guess which it was."
+
+"And did you really do it, Cornelius?" I exclaimed, quite bewildered.
+
+The eyes of Cornelius kindled, his lip trembled, but turning away from me 
+as if in scorn of wrath--
+
+"Leave the room," he said almost calmly.
+
+I looked at him--the truth flashed across me--Cornelius accused me of 
+having done it. I felt stunned, far more with wonder than with 
+indignation.
+
+"Did you hear me?" he asked, with the same dead calmness in his tone. 
+"Leave the room!" and his extended hand pointed to the door.
+
+But I did not move.
+
+"Cornelius," I said, "do you mean that I did it?"
+
+"Leave the room," was his only answer, and he turned from me.
+
+"Cornelius," I repeated, following him, "do you mean that I did it?"
+
+"Leave the room," he said, without looking at me.
+
+"Cornelius, did you say I did it?" I asked a third time, and I placed 
+myself before him, so as to make him stop short. I was not angry--I was 
+scarcely moved--I spoke quietly, but I felt that were he to kill me the 
+next minute, I should and would compel a reply, and I did compel one.
+
+"Yes," he answered, with a sort of astonished wrath at my hardihood; 
+"yes, I do say you did it."
+
+I drew back a step or two from him, so that my upraised look met his.
+
+"Cornelius," I said, very earnestly, "I did not do it."
+
+"Ah! you did not," he exclaimed.
+
+"Oh no," I replied, and I shook my head and smiled at so strange a 
+mistake.
+
+"Ah!" echoed Cornelius in the same tone, "you did not--who did, then?"
+
+"I do not know, Cornelius, how should I?"
+
+"How should you? Was it not proved awhile back only two persons could 
+have done it, you or I, and since it so chances that I am not the person, 
+does it not follow that you are?"
+
+I looked at him incredulously: it seemed to me that I had but to deny to 
+be acquitted. I fancied he had not understood me.
+
+"Cornelius," I objected, "did you not hear me say it was not I?"
+
+"I heard you--what about it?"
+
+"Why that it cannot be me."
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Was not the picture safe when I left it here?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, for I was here after you left, and I saw it."
+
+"You confess it?"
+
+"Why not, Cornelius?"
+
+"You confess that you were up here after I went down with Miriam, and 
+that you remained here until tea-time, when I called you down myself."
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, I was up here."
+
+"Did you not remain alone in the house when every one else was out of the 
+way?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, I did."
+
+"When I came back did I not find you at the door of this room?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius; sitting at the head of the staircase."
+
+"Did you not endeavour to prevent me from getting a light?"
+
+"I said, Cornelius, I could find what you were looking for, without one."
+
+"And you said so twice--twice."
+
+"I believe I did, twice, as you say."
+
+"I did, scarce knowing why, an unusual thing--I locked the door, I took 
+the key. Do you grant that whatever was done must have been done before 
+then?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius."
+
+I spoke and felt like one in a dream. Each answer fell mechanically from 
+my lips; and yet I knew that with every word of assent, the net of 
+evidence I could not so much as attempt to disprove, drew closer around 
+me.
+
+"Well," said Cornelius, in the voice of a judge sitting over a criminal, 
+"what have you to say against facts proved by your own confession?"
+
+"Nothing, save that I did not do it."
+
+I spoke faintly; for my head swam and I felt so giddy that I was obliged 
+to take hold of the back of a chair not to fall.
+
+Cornelius saw this; he turned away abruptly--he walked up and down the 
+room--he hesitated; at length he stopped before me, took my unresisting 
+hand in his, made me sit down on the couch, and sat down by me.
+
+"Come," he said in a much milder tone, "I see what it is, I have 
+terrified you--you are afraid to confess--that is it--is it not?"
+
+"No, Cornelius."
+
+"What is it then? dread of punishment?"
+
+I shook my head.
+
+"Shame?" he said in a low tone. "No? what then?"
+
+"It is that I did not do it, Cornelius."
+
+He dropped my hand.
+
+"Take care!" he said in a low voice, menacing spite of its seeming 
+gentleness; "take care! I have been patient, but I can be provoked. I may 
+forgive an act of passion, of jealousy, of envy even, but I cannot 
+forgive a lie."
+
+I loved him, but my blood rose at this.
+
+"Am I a liar?" I asked, looking full in his face; "have I ever been one?"
+
+"Never," he replied, with some emotion, "and I will not consider this an 
+act of deception, but as the result of fear, obstinacy, or mistaken 
+pride. I will even add that I consider you incapable of deceit, for 
+yesterday you betrayed your feelings concerning this picture and the 
+original with singular imprudence, and both last night and this morning 
+you have carried in your face the consciousness of your guilt. And now 
+listen to me. You have defaced the work I prized, the image of her whom I 
+loved; you have irritated, tormented, injured me, and yet I forgive you. 
+Nay more; neither Kate nor Miriam shall know what has happened. I will 
+spare one whom, spite of so many faults, I cannot help loving, this 
+humiliation, and all on one condition--an easy one--confess."
+
+"I cannot," I exclaimed passionately, "how can I?"
+
+He interrupted me.
+
+"Take care!" he said again, "do not persist. I speak calmly, but I am 
+still very angry, Daisy. Do not presume--do not deny."
+
+Oh yes! he was still very angry. His contracted brow--his restless look, 
+that burned with ill-repressed fire--his lip, which he gnawed 
+impatiently, told me that his wrath was only sleeping beneath seeming 
+calmness. He would not let me deny, I could not confess; a strange sort 
+of despair and recklessness seized me. I drew nearer to him. I flung my 
+arms around his neck and laid my head on his bosom, feeling that if his 
+wrath were to fall on me, it should at least strike me there. He did not 
+put me away--very far from it--he drew me closer to him.
+
+"Oh yes!" he said, looking down at me, "I am very fond of you, Daisy. 
+Yes, I love you very much--you need not come here to tell me so--I know 
+it, and never know it better than when you vex me: if you were to die to-
+morrow, I should grieve for days, weeks, and months, but for all that I 
+am very angry, and you will do well not to provoke me."
+
+Why did I find so strange a charm in his very wrath, that I could not 
+resist the impulse which made me press my lips to his cheek?
+
+"Yes," he observed, quietly, "you may kiss me too; but do not trust to 
+that--not even if I kiss you--I am very angry."
+
+"But you love me, Cornelius, you know you do; be as angry as you will, 
+you cannot make me fear."
+
+"Yes, I love you--you perverse child!" he replied, with a strange look; 
+"but for all that, know what you have to expect. Confess, and I forgive 
+you freely. Deny, and you will find me as pitiless in my resentment, as I 
+am now free in my forgiveness. I will keep you in my home, it is true, 
+but I will banish you from my arms and from my heart. I can, Daisy! Yes, 
+as surely as your arms are now around my neck and your cheek now lies to 
+mine, as surely as I now give you this kiss, will I abide by what I say."
+
+He kissed me as he spoke, and very kindly too; yet his pale, determined 
+face gave me not the faintest hope that I could move him. I looked at 
+him, and he smiled, as with the consciousness of an unalterable resolve. 
+This, then, was my fate--never more to be loved, cherished, or caressed 
+by Cornelius. It rose before me in all its desolateness and gloom. One 
+moment I felt tempted to yield, but conscience rose indignant, and pride 
+spurned at the thought. I looked at Cornelius through gathering tears. I 
+called him cruel, severe, and implacable in my heart, and yet I do not 
+think I had ever loved him half so well; perhaps because the conviction 
+on which he condemned me was so sincere, and, spite of his belief in my 
+guilt, his love still so fervent.
+
+"Well!" he said impatiently; for I was lingering, reluctant to leave that 
+embrace which it seemed was to be my last. I drew my arms closer around 
+his neck,--I kissed his brow, his cheek, his hand.
+
+"God bless you for all your kindness!" I said, weeping bitterly; "God 
+bless you, Cornelius!"
+
+"What do you mean, child?" he asked.
+
+"And God bless Kate, too," I continued, "though I have never loved her so 
+well as you."
+
+"Daisy!"
+
+"I have but one thing to ask of you, Cornelius--kiss me once again."
+
+"Not once but ten times when you confess, Daisy."
+
+"Yes, but kiss me now."
+
+"What for?" he inquired mistrustfully.
+
+"Because I ask you."
+
+He yielded to my request; he kissed me several times, mingling the 
+caresses with broken speech.
+
+"I am sure you are going to confess," he said, "quite sure: you know how 
+hard it would be for me to leave off being fond of you--I am sure you 
+will."
+
+I looked at him blinded by tears; then I rose, untwined my arms from 
+around his neck, and left him--I had accepted my destiny. Cornelius rose 
+too, pale with anger.
+
+"Do you mean to brave me?" he asked indignantly.
+
+I did not answer.
+
+"Daisy," he said again, "I hear a step--I give you another chance--
+confess before Kate or Miriam enters--a word will suffice."
+
+But my lips remained closed and mute.
+
+"Just as you like," he exclaimed, turning away angrily.
+
+The door opened and Miriam entered, pale and calm, in her white robes.
+
+"I am come early, you see," she said in her low voice, so sweet and 
+clear. "Well, what is the matter?" she added, looking at us both with 
+sedate surprise.
+
+"Look and see, Miriam! look and see!" replied Cornelius, with bitterness 
+and emotion in his voice.
+
+Miriam slowly came forward. She looked at the picture, then at me.
+
+"Well," she said, "it is a pity certainly, a great pity, but it is only a 
+picture after all."
+
+"Only a picture!" echoed Cornelius.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "only a picture. I will sit to you again and you 
+will do better."
+
+"Oh, Miriam, Miriam!" he exclaimed, a little passionately, "it is not 
+merely the loss of the picture that troubles me."
+
+"What then?" she inquired, looking up at him.
+
+"You ask?" he said, returning her glance; "ay, Miriam, you do not know, 
+no one knows what that child has been to me! I have watched at night by 
+her sick bed, and felt, that if she died, something would be gone nothing 
+could replace for me. Child as she was and is still, I have made her my 
+companion and my friend; she, more than any other living creature, has 
+known the thoughts, wishes, and aspirations that are within me. I have 
+taught her, and found pleasure in the teaching. I have cared for her, 
+cherished her for years, and only loved her the more that I was free not 
+to love her. She has been dear to me as my own flesh and blood, or rather 
+all the dearer because she was not mine; for whilst she was as sacred to 
+me as if the closest ties of kindred bound us, I found a pleasure and a 
+charm in the thought that she was a stranger. Even now, much as she has 
+injured me, guilty as she is, I feel what a bitter struggle it will be 
+for me to tear her from my heart."
+
+"Forgive her," gently said Miriam.
+
+"Forgive her! she rejects forgiveness. Proud and obstinate in her guilt, 
+she denies it; and I, who, when I called her up here this morning, 
+incensed against her as I was, could yet, I thought, have staked my 
+honour on her truth--I knew she was jealous, resentful and passionate, 
+but not even in thought would I have accused her of a lie."
+
+"Then you did not take her in the act?" thoughtfully asked Miriam.
+
+"No, this was evidently done last night."
+
+"How do you know it was she did it?"
+
+"There was no one else to do it."
+
+"What proof is that? She is not bound to prove her innocence. It is you 
+who are bound to prove her guilt. There is a doubt--give her the benefit 
+of it."
+
+"A doubt!" he exclaimed almost indignantly,--"a doubt! why, if I could 
+feel a doubt, Miriam, I would not in word, deed, look, or thought, so 
+much as hint an accusation against her. A doubt! would to God I could 
+doubt! But it is impossible: everything condemns her." He briefly 
+recapitulated the proofs he had already brought forward against me.
+
+"After this," he added, "what am I to think?"
+
+"That you have some secret enemy," calmly replied Miriam.
+
+"Is he a magician?" asked Cornelius; "could he drop from the skies to 
+work my ruin? But absurd as is the supposition that one so unknown could 
+have such a foe, it is contradicted by a simple fact--the chair which I 
+myself placed against the window is there still. Oh no, Miriam, my enemy 
+came not from without; my enemy is one whom I brought home one evening in 
+my arms, wrapped in my cloak; who has eaten my bread and often drunk from 
+my cup; who has many a time fallen asleep on my heart; whom I have loved, 
+cherished, and caressed for three years."
+
+This was more than my bursting heart could bear. I had stood apart, 
+listening with bowed head and clasped hands, apathetic and resigned. I 
+now came forward; I placed myself before him; I looked up at him; my 
+tears fell like rain and blinded me, but through both sobs and tears 
+broke forth the passionate cry, "Cornelius, Cornelius, I did not do it." 
+And I sank on my knees before him; but to protest my innocence, not to 
+implore pardon.
+
+"You hear her," he said to Miriam, and he looked down at me--moved 
+indeed, but, alas! his face told it plainly--unconvinced.
+
+For awhile we remained thus. I could not take my eyes from his; words had 
+failed, but I felt as if spirit should speak to spirit, heart to heart, 
+and breaking the bonds of flesh, should bear the silent truth from my 
+soul to his, and stamp it there in all its burning reality.
+
+He stooped and raised me without a word. A chair was near him: he sat 
+down, he took me in his arms; he pressed me to his heart, and never had 
+his embrace been more warm and tender; he looked down at me, and never 
+had his look been more endearing; he spoke--not in words of condemnation 
+or menace, but with all the ardour of his feelings and the fervour of his 
+heart. I wept for joy; I thought myself acquitted, alas! he soon 
+undeceived me, I was only forgiven.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I break my resolve, and here you are again, still loved 
+and still caressed; for though _you_ have not reminded me of it, Daisy, 
+_I_ remember I once declared there was nothing I would not forgive you, 
+for the sake of the faith you one day here expressed in me. And I do 
+forgive you; as I am a Christian, as I am a gentleman, on my honour, on 
+my truth, I forgive you. Confess or do not confess, it matters not. I 
+appeal not to fear of punishment, to gratitude for the past, to dread of 
+the future, to conscience, or to love; I forgive you, and leave you free 
+for silence or for speech."
+
+I understood him but too well. Cornelius would no longer extort a 
+confession; his own soul was great and magnanimous; he understood high 
+feelings, and by this unconditional forgiveness he now appealed to me 
+through the highest and most noble feeling of a human heart--generosity. 
+Hitherto, he had only thought me perverse and obstinate; with a silent 
+pang of despair I felt I was now condemned to appear mean and low before 
+him. For he looked at me with such generous confidence; with such trust 
+and faith in his aspect; with something in his eyes that seemed to say 
+with the triumph of a noble heart, "You have wronged me, you have 
+deceived me, but I defy you to resist this!" He waited, it was plain, for 
+a confession that came not. At length he understood that it would not 
+come. He put me away without the least trace of anger, and said, in a 
+voice of which the reproachful gentleness pierced my heart--
+
+"You cannot prevent me from forgiving you, Daisy."
+
+With this he turned from me, and removing Medora from the easel, he began 
+looking out for another canvas of the same size. Miriam had looked on, 
+seated on the couch with motionless composure, her calm, statue-like head 
+supported by her hand. She turned round to say--
+
+"What is that for, Cornelius?"
+
+"To begin again, if you do not object. I have already thought of some 
+changes in the attitude."
+
+She looked at him keenly, and not without wonder.
+
+"You soon get over it," she said.
+
+"Why not?" he asked quietly; "do not look astonished, Miriam; I can no 
+more linger over regret than over anger. For me to feel that a thing is 
+utterly lost, is to cease to lament for it. The work of days and months 
+is utterly ruined; be it so, I have but to begin anew."
+
+Miriam rose and went up to him as he stood before his easel, somewhat 
+pale, but as collected as if nothing had happened.
+
+"Forgive her," she whispered, "for my sake," and she took his hand in her 
+own.
+
+"I have forgiven her, Miriam," he replied, giving her a candid and 
+surprised glance: "did you not hear me say so?"
+
+"From your heart?"
+
+"From my heart," he answered frankly.
+
+"But with an implied condition of confession, acknowledgment, or 
+something of the sort?"
+
+"No, I left her free to speak or be silent. She would not confess--not 
+for that shall I retract what I granted unconditionally; but pray do not 
+let us speak of it."
+
+Miriam however persisted.
+
+"It is true," she said, "that Daisy did not confess, but then she did not 
+deny."
+
+The look of Cornelius lit: it was plain he caught at this eagerly.
+
+"Very true," he replied; "very true, Miriam, she did not deny."
+
+He looked at me as he said it. I stood where he had left me, by his 
+vacant chair. I looked at him too, and at Miriam, as she stood by him 
+with one hand clasped in his, and the other resting on his shoulder, and 
+I never uttered one word. In his longing desire to reinstate me in his 
+esteem and efface the stain on my tarnished honour, Cornelius, seeing me 
+still silent, could not help saying--
+
+"It is so, Daisy, is it not?--you do not deny it."
+
+I had been quiet until then; quiet and forbearing. I had not protested my 
+innocence in loud or vehement speech, but in the very simplest words of 
+denial. Accused, judged, sentenced unheard, I had not resented this; I 
+had blessed my accuser and kissed the hand of my judge. I had not wearied 
+him with tears, entreaties, or protestations. I had no proof to give him 
+save my word, and if that was doubted, I felt I had but to be silent. 
+Four times indeed I had stood before him and told him--what more could I 
+tell him?--that I had not done it. He had not believed me, and I had 
+borne with it, borne with that forgiveness which to me could be but a 
+bitter insult; but even from him I could bear no more; even to him no 
+longer would I protest my innocence. I had laid my pride at his feet, in 
+all the lowliness and humility of love; it now rose indignant within me, 
+and bade me scorn further justification.
+
+"No, Cornelius," I replied, without so much as looking at him, "I do not 
+deny it."
+
+I stood near the door; I opened it, and left the room.
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+ 
+
+My temples throbbed; my blood flowed with feverish heat; I felt as if 
+carried away by a burning stream down to some deep, fiery region, where 
+angry voices ever raised a strange clamour, that perpetually drowned my 
+unavailing cry--"I did not do it."
+
+I know not how I reached my room; quietly and simply, I suppose; for when 
+I recovered from this transport of indignant passion, I was lying on my 
+bed and I was alone. I did not weep, I did not moan, I scarcely thought, 
+but I drank deep of the cup of grief which had so suddenly risen to my 
+lips. In youth we do not love sorrow, but when it comes to us we welcome 
+it with strange avidity; there is a luxury, a dreary charm in the first 
+excess of woe. True, we quickly sicken of the bitter draught; I had lain 
+down with the feeling--"There, I am now as miserable as I can be, and yet 
+I care not!" but, alas! how soon I grew faint and weary! how soon from 
+the depths of my wrung heart I cried for relief to Him who knew my 
+innocence, who had never wronged me, who, were I ever so guilty, would 
+have never condemned me unheard!
+
+What was it to me that Cornelius left me his love and his kindness, when 
+I knew and felt, with a keener bitterness than words can convey, that I 
+had for ever lost his esteem? Did I, could I, care for an affection from 
+which the very life had departed? No; child as I was in years, something 
+within me revolted from the mere thought of his tenderness and 
+endearments. If he believed me guilty, then let him hate and detest me: 
+sweeter would be his aversion than such fondness as he could bestow on 
+one whom, the more he forgave her, the more he must despise.
+
+This resentful feeling--better to be hated than weakly loved--bore with 
+it no consolation. I still groaned under the intolerable load of so much 
+misery. Spirit and flesh both revolted against it, and said it was beyond 
+endurance; that, anything save that, I would bear cheerfully, but that I 
+could not bear; that sickness would be pleasant, and death itself would 
+be sweet in comparison. And as I thought thus, I remembered the time when 
+I was near dying, when Cornelius wept over me, and I should have carried 
+in my grave his regard as well as his tears, and I passionately 
+questioned the Providence that rules our fate. I asked why I had been 
+spared for this? why I was thought guilty when I was innocent? why 
+Cornelius disbelieved me? why there was no hope that I should ever be 
+acquitted by him? why the only being for whose good opinion I would have 
+given all it was mine to give, had been the very one to condemn me? Had I 
+looked into my heart, I might there have found the stern reply--"By his 
+idol let the idolater perish." But I did not. I only dwelt on the galling 
+fact, that though guiltless, there was no hope for me, and I sank into as 
+violent a fit of despair as if this were a new discovery. I wept 
+passionately at first, then slowly, unconsciously. My head ached; my 
+heavy eyes closed; I did not sleep, but I sank into the apathy of subdued 
+grief.
+
+I know not how long I had been thus when the door opened, and Kate--I 
+knew her step--entered. She came up to my bed, bent over me, and seeing 
+my eyes closed, whispered--
+
+"Are you asleep, Daisy?"
+
+A slight motion of my head implied the denial I could not speak. She took 
+my hand, said it felt cold, went into the next room, whence she brought 
+some heavy garment, with which she covered me. I felt rather than saw her 
+lingering by me; then I heard her leaving the room softly. My heart 
+swelled as the door closed on her. Not one word of faith or doubt had she 
+uttered, and yet her voice was both compassionate and kind. It was plain 
+that she too thought me guilty, pitied, and forgave me.
+
+"Be it so!" I thought, with sullen and bitter grief: "let every one 
+accuse me, I acquit myself; let no one believe in me, I keep faith in my 
+own truth. I shall learn how to do without their approbation and their 
+belief."
+
+I remained in this mood, until, after the lapse of some hours, Kate once 
+more came near me. Again she bent over me and asked if I slept. I opened 
+my heavy eyes, but, dazzled by the light, I soon closed them again.
+
+"Come down to dinner," she said gently.
+
+"I am not hungry."
+
+There was a pause; I fancied her gone, and looked; she was standing at 
+the foot of my bed, gazing at me with a very sorrowful face.
+
+"Daisy," she said, in her most persuasive accents, "have you nothing to 
+say to me?"
+
+I looked at her; her glance told me she asked for a confession, not for 
+justification, so I replied--
+
+"Nothing, Kate," and again closed my eyes.
+
+She left me, but soon returned, carrying a small tray with a plate, on 
+which there was some fowl and a glass of wine. She wanted me to eat. I 
+assured her I was not hungry.
+
+"Try," she urged; "I promised Cornelius not to leave you without seeing 
+you take something."
+
+To please her I tried, but she saw that the attempt sickened me; she 
+pressed me to take the wine.
+
+"Cornelius poured it out in his own glass," she said, "and tasted it 
+before sending it up; so you must have some."
+
+Wine seldom appeared on our frugal table; it had been forbidden to me as 
+injurious; but Cornelius always left me some in his glass, which he made 
+me drink slyly, whilst his sister pretended to look another way. I knew 
+why he had now sent me this; it was a token of old affection living 
+still, spite of what happened. I would not refuse the pledge: I sat up, 
+and taking the glass from Kate, I raised it to my lips; but as I did so, 
+the thought of the past thus evoked made my heart swell; a sensation of 
+choking came upon me; I felt I could not swallow one drop, and laid down 
+the glass untasted. Kate sighed, but she saw it was useless to insist, 
+so, hoping I would try again in her absence, she left me.
+
+I did not try: why should I? food sufficient to me were my tears and my 
+grief renewed in all its bitterness by this incident. Why had Cornelius 
+sent me this token of a communion from which the trust and the faith had 
+for ever vanished? Why should I drink from his glass, whilst he thought 
+me a liar? I ought not, and I resolved that I would not, until he had 
+acknowledged my truth. I pushed away the tray from me; in doing so I saw 
+that the covering Kate had thrown over me was an old cloak of her 
+brother's. I recognized it at once: it was the very same he wore when he 
+came to see me at Mr. Thornton's; the same in the folds of which he had 
+wrapped and carried me, a weak and sickly child. I cast it away in a 
+transport of despair and grief; he might care for me and cherish me 
+again, but never more could he be to me what he once had been.
+
+After awhile I became more calm, or rather I sank into the apathy which 
+is not calmness. Lying on my bed I looked through the window which faced 
+it, at the grey and cloudy sky. The preceding day had been clear and 
+sunshiny; this was dark and overcast, one of those September days that 
+bear something so dull, chill, and wintry in their mien. I watched my 
+room grow dim, and felt it becoming more cold and comfortless as evening 
+drew on; but it seemed not so dreary, and felt not so cold, as my 
+desolate heart. 
+
+A well-known step on the stairs partly roused me. I listened; there was 
+a. low tap at my door; I gave no answer; it was renewed, and still I was 
+silent. Cornelius, for it was he, waited awhile and finally entered. Like 
+his sister he came up to my bed and bent over me, but the room had grown 
+dark; he drew back the curtain; I shaded my eyes with my hand; he moved 
+it away.
+
+"You are not asleep," he said, "look at me, Daisy."
+
+I obeyed; he stood gazing at me with my baud in his; there was sadness on 
+his face, and pity still deeper than his sadness. I dare say I looked a 
+pitiable object enough. He glanced at the food untouched, at the wine 
+untasted.
+
+"You have taken nothing," he said, "not even a drop of the wine I sent 
+you; why so?"
+
+"I could not."
+
+"Try again."
+
+He wanted to raise the glass to my lips; but I pushed it away so 
+abruptly, that half its contents were spilled. He made no remark; but 
+feeling the dead-like dullness of my hand, he attempted to cover me with 
+his cloak; I half rose to put it away; Cornelius took no notice of this 
+either.
+
+"Come down and have some tea," he said quietly; "this room is cold, but 
+below there is a fire."
+
+Mechanically I obeyed. I sat up, put back my loosened hair from my face, 
+and slipped down on the floor. I followed him out, and I felt weak and 
+giddy; I had to cling to him for support until we entered the parlour. It 
+looked as I had so often seen it look on many a happy evening. The fire 
+burned brightly; the lamp shed its mild, mellow radiance; the kettle sang 
+on the fire; the white china cups and saucers stood on the little table 
+ready for use, and Kate sat working as usual; but familiar as everything 
+seemed, it was as if I had not entered that room for years. As we came 
+in, Kate looked up and sighed, then made the tea in deep silence. 
+Cornelius made me sit by the fire, and sat down by me; he handed me my 
+cup himself; but I could not drink, still less eat. He pressed me in 
+vain. If I could, I would have gratified him, for my abstinence proceeded 
+not from either stubbornness or pride; I knew I should eat again, and to 
+do it early or late could not humble or exalt me. Cornelius ceased to 
+urge the point. The meal, always a short one with us, was over, the room 
+was silent; I sat in an angle of the couch, my hand shading my weary 
+eyes; perhaps my long fasting contributed to render me partly insensible 
+to what passed around me, for Cornelius had to speak twice before he 
+could draw my attention. When I at length looked up, I perceived that 
+Kate had left the room; we were alone.
+
+"Daisy," said Cornelius, very earnestly, "are you fretting?"
+
+"Yes, Cornelius, I am."
+
+"Do you then think me still angry with you?"
+
+"No," I replied, rather surprised, "I know you are not."
+
+"How do you know?" he asked, bending a keen look on me.
+
+"You have said so, Cornelius, how then can I but believe you?"
+
+I looked up in his face as I spoke, and if my eyes told him but half the 
+feelings of my heart, he must have read in their gaze--"Doubt me if you 
+like; I keep inviolate and true my faith in you." He looked as if the 
+words had smote him dumb. For awhile he did not attempt to answer; then 
+he observed rather abruptly--
+
+"Well, what are you fretting about?"
+
+I would not reply at first; he repeated his question. "Because you will 
+not believe me," I answered in a low tone.
+
+He gave me a quick, troubled gaze, full of fear and--for the first time--
+of doubt. He caught my hands in his; he stooped eagerly as if to read my 
+very soul in my eyes: heavy and dim with weeping they might be, but their 
+look shrank not from his.
+
+"Daisy," he cried agitatedly, "I put it to you--to your honour--I shall 
+take your word now--did you or did you not do it?"
+
+I disengaged my hands from his, and clasped them around his neck, and 
+thus, with my face open to his gaze like a book, I looked up at him sadly 
+and calmly.
+
+"Cornelius," I replied, "I put it to you: Did Daisy Burns do it?"
+
+He looked down at me with an anxious and tormenting doubt that vanished 
+before a sudden and irresistible conviction. Yes, I read it in his face: 
+he who had so pertinaciously accused, judged, and condemned me, was now, 
+as with a two-edged sword, pierced with the double conviction of my 
+innocence and his own injustice. For a moment he looked stunned, then he 
+withdrew from my clasp, rose, and walked away without a word, and sat 
+down by the table with his back turned to me.
+
+The heart has instincts beyond all the written knowledge of the wise. I 
+rose and ran to him; he averted his face and put me away. 
+
+"Cornelius," I entreated, "Cornelius, look at me."
+
+Without answering, he turned his face to me. Never shall I forget its 
+mingled remorse and grief. He rose and paced the room up and down, with 
+agitated steps. I did not dare to follow or address him; of his own 
+accord he stopped short and, confronting me, took my two hands in his and 
+looked down at me with a sorrowful face.
+
+"If I had but wronged a man," he said, "one who could give me back insult 
+for insult and wrong for wrong, I should regret it, but I could forgive 
+myself; but you!" he added, looking at me from head to foot, "a girl, a 
+mere child, dependent on me too, helpless and without one to protect or 
+defend you against wrong--oh, Daisy! it is more than I can bear to think 
+of!"
+
+It did seem too galling for thought, for tears wrung forth by wounded 
+pride rose to his eyes and ran down his burning cheek.
+
+"Can you forgive me?" he added, after a short pause.
+
+This was more than I could bear. Forgive him! forgive him to whom I owed 
+everything the error of one day! I could not, and I passionately said I 
+never would.
+
+But Cornelius was peremptory, and, though burning with shame at so 
+strange a reversion of our mutual positions, I yielded. I felt however as 
+if I could never again look him in the face. But Cornelius had a faculty 
+granted to few: he could feel deeply, ardently, without sentimental 
+exaggeration. His mind was manly in its very tenderness. He had expressed 
+his grief, his remorse, his shame; he did not brood over them or distress 
+me with puerile because unavailing regrets over a past he could not 
+recall. As he made me return to my seat and again sat by me, there was 
+indeed in his look, in the way in which he drew me nearer to him, in the 
+tone with which he said once or twice, "My poor child! my poor little 
+Daisy!" something which told me beyond the power of language, how keenly 
+he felt his injustice, how deeply he lamented my day of sorrow; but 
+otherwise, his conscience acquitting him of intentional wrong, he 
+accepted my forgiveness as frankly as he had asked for it.
+
+Thus my troubled heart could at length rest in peace. Languid and wearied 
+with so many emotions, I could yield myself up to the strange luxury and 
+sweetness of being once more, not merely near him--that was little--but 
+of feeling, of knowing, of reading in his face, so kindly turned to mine, 
+that he believed in me. As I sat by him, his hand clasped in both mine, 
+restored to what I prized even higher than his affection--his esteem, it 
+seemed like a dream, too blissful to be true, and of which my eyes ever 
+kept seeking in his the reality and the confirmation.
+
+"Oh, Cornelius," I said once, "are you sure you do not think I did it?"
+
+He looked pained at being reminded that he had thought me guilty.
+
+"Have some wine," he observed, hurriedly, "I am sure you can now."
+
+He went to the back parlour and brought out a glassfull. He took some 
+himself, and made me drink the rest. It revived me. I felt I could eat, 
+and I took some biscuits from the plateful he handed me. He watched me 
+with a pleased and attentive smile, and in putting by both glass and 
+plate, he sighed like one much relieved.
+
+"When I was a boy." he said, sitting down again by me, "I caught a wild 
+bird, and caged it, thinking it would sing; but it would not eat; it hung 
+its head and pined away. I was half afraid this evening you were going to 
+do like my poor bird."
+
+"I hope I know better than a bird," I replied, rather piqued at the 
+comparison, "and that was a very foolish bird not to take to the cage 
+where you had put it--so kind of you."
+
+"Very; yet, strange to say, it liked its cage and its captor as little as 
+you on the contrary seem to fancy yours."
+
+"Yes, but it is scarcely worth while putting or keeping me in a cage, 
+Cornelius; I am very useless; I can't even sing--not a bit."
+
+"Never mind," he replied, smiling, "I could better dispense with all the 
+birds of the air than with you, my pet."
+
+I thought it was very kind of Cornelius to say so, and to prefer me to 
+nightingales, larks, black-birds, thrushes, and the whole sweet-singing 
+race. I felt cheerful, happy, almost merry, and we were talking together 
+gaily enough when the door opened, and Kate entered.
+
+She had left me plunged in apathetic despondency; on seeing me chatting 
+with her brother in as free and friendly a fashion as if nothing had 
+happened, she looked bewildered. She came forward in total silence, and 
+behind her came Miriam, who closed the door and looked at us calmly 
+through all her evident wonder.
+
+"It's a very wet night," observed Kate, sitting down opposite us and 
+looking at me very hard.
+
+"Is it?" said Cornelius, rising to give Miriam a chair, then returning to 
+me.
+
+"Very," rejoined his sister, who could not take her eyes from me, as, 
+with the secure familiarity of an indulged child, I untwined one of his 
+dark locks to its full extent, observing--
+
+"It is too long; let me cut it off with Kate's scissors."
+
+"No, 'faith," he replied, hastily, and shaking back his head with an 
+alarmed air, as if he already felt the cold steel, "do not dream of such 
+a thing. Cut it off indeed!" and he slowly passed his fingers through his 
+raven hair, in the glossy and luxuriant beauty of which he took a certain 
+complacency.
+
+"Well!" said Kate, leaning back in her chair, folding her hands on her 
+knees, and drawing in a long breath.
+
+"Well, what?" coolly asked Cornelius.
+
+"I never did see such a rainy night--never."
+
+"How kind of you to come!" observed Cornelius, bending forward to look at 
+Miriam.
+
+She sat by the table, her arms crossed upon it, her eyes bent on us; she 
+smiled without answering.
+
+"You look pale and fatigued," he said, with some concern.
+
+There was indeed on her face a strange expression of languor, weariness, 
+and _ennui_.
+
+"Yes," she replied abstractedly, "I am weary."
+
+"I am not going to stand that, you know!" exclaimed Kate, whose attention 
+was not diverted from me. "Will you just tell me, Daisy, or rather you, 
+Cornelius, what has passed between you and Daisy since I left the room."
+
+Cornelius raised on his sister a sad look, which from her fell on me.
+
+"I have found out a great mistake," he said, reddening as he spoke, "and 
+Daisy has been good enough to forgive me."
+
+"I wish you would not speak so," I observed, feeling ready to cry.
+
+"My dear, Kate might blame me."
+
+"No one has any right to blame you," I interrupted. "If I am your child, 
+as you say sometimes, can't you do with me as you think fit?"
+
+I looked a little indignantly at Kate, who did not heed me. Her eyes 
+sparkled; her cheeks were flushed.
+
+"A mistake!" she exclaimed eagerly, "that's right; I can't say I thought 
+it was a mistake, but I always felt as if it were one. I never felt as if 
+poor Daisy could be such a little traitor. How did he do it, Cornelius?"
+
+"_He?_ really, Kate, I don't know how _he_ did it, for I don't know who 
+_he_ is."
+
+"Some jealous, envious, mean, paltry little fellow of a bad artist," 
+hotly answered Kate. "I can tell you exactly what he's like: he squints, 
+he limps, he wears his hat over his eyes, and is always looking round to 
+see that no one is watching him--I see him--you need not laugh, 
+Cornelius, I can tell you sow he did it; he came in by Deborah's window, 
+and escaped across the leads. He is an artist decidedly, and he was mixed 
+up with the rejection of your Sick Child; can't you trace the 
+connection?"
+
+Cornelius did not look as if he could.
+
+"Never mind," continued Kate, "I shall find him out, but you must give me 
+the links."
+
+"What links, Kate?"
+
+"Why, how you found it out, of course?"
+
+"Found out what, Kate?"
+
+"Don't be foolish, boy: why, that it was not Daisy."
+
+Cornelius stroked his chin, and looked at his sister with a perplexed 
+air, then said--
+
+"I don't think you will find it much of a link, Kate."
+
+"Nonsense! a hint is enough for me, you know."
+
+"Well, but if there is no hint at all?" objected Cornelius, making a 
+curious face.
+
+"No hint at all?" echoed his sister, rather bewildered.
+
+"Kate," resolutely said Cornelius, "think me foolish, mad, if you like: 
+the truth is, that I have found out the innocence of Daisy, as I ought to 
+have found it out at once--by believing her."
+
+"But where are the proofs?" asked Kate.
+
+"I tell you there are no proofs," he replied with impatient warmth; 
+"proofs made me condemn Daisy; I am now a wiser man, and acquit her on 
+trust."
+
+"No proofs!" said Kate, looking confounded.
+
+"No, Kate, none, and I don't want any either."
+
+"But you had proofs this morning, you said."
+
+"You could not give me a better reason for having none this evening. 
+Proofs are cheats, I shall trust no more."
+
+Kate sighed profoundly and said in a rueful tone--
+
+"Heaven knows how much I wish to believe Daisy innocent, but my opinion 
+cannot turn about so quickly as yours."
+
+"She did not do it, Kate," exclaimed her brother, a little vehemently, 
+"she did not."
+
+"You need not fly out: I never accused her."
+
+"But I did: do not wonder that I defend her all the more warmly."
+
+"But I do wonder," pursued Kate, with a keen look at me; "there is 
+something in it; the sly little thing got round you whilst you were alone 
+together. Oh, Cornelius, Cornelius! that child has made her way to your 
+very heart. You would rather be deceived than think she did wrong."
+
+"I am not deceived," he indignantly replied.
+
+Kate did not answer, but kept looking at me in a way that made me feel 
+very uncomfortable.
+
+"Daisy is guiltless," continued her brother; "how I ever thought her 
+otherwise is a mystery to me. Who has ever been more devoted to my 
+painting than the poor child?"
+
+Kate opened her lips, then closed them again without speaking. Cornelius 
+detected this.
+
+"Well," he said quickly, "what have you got to say, Kate?"
+
+"Nothing!" she drily answered, with another look at me so searching and 
+so keen that I involuntarily clung closer to Cornelius.
+
+"Kate," he said again, looking from me to her, "what have you to say?"
+
+There was a pause; Kate hesitated, then resolutely replied--
+
+"The truth--which always insists on making itself known, no doubt because 
+it is good that it should be known. I think, Cornelius, that you acquit 
+Daisy as you condemned her--too hastily; but that is a part of your 
+character: you detest to suspect--a generous, imprudent feeling. You make 
+too much or too little of proofs. Now it so chances that I have got one 
+which escaped you this morning, when you would have held it conclusive; 
+which I kept quiet, but never meant to suppress. I shall make no comments 
+upon it, but simply lay it before you."
+
+Her looks, her words, the gravity with which they were uttered, alarmed 
+me. In the morning I had trusted implicitly to my innocence for 
+justification: then I could not understand how facts should condemn me, 
+when conscience held me guiltless; but now I knew better. I looked at 
+Cornelius; perhaps he was only astonished; I fancied he seemed to doubt. 
+All composure, all presence of mind forsook me. I threw myself in his 
+arms, as in my only place of hope and refuge.
+
+"Cornelius," I cried in my terror, "don't believe it; I don't know what 
+it is, but don't believe it--pray don't."
+
+He looked moved, and said to his sister--
+
+"Not now, Kate, not now."
+
+"Nonsense!" she replied, "it is too late to go back."
+
+"I think it is," assented Cornelius, looking down at me. But I threw my 
+arms around his neck, and looking up at his face with all the passionate 
+entreaty of my heart--
+
+"You won't believe it, Cornelius, will you?" I asked; "it's against me, I 
+am sure; but you won't believe it?"
+
+"No, indeed," he replied, with some emotion, "I will believe nothing 
+against you, my poor child."
+
+The assurance somewhat pacified me. Kate, whom my alarm seemed to impress 
+very unfavourably, observed drily--
+
+"It is not a matter to make so much of, and I never said you could not 
+explain it, Daisy; at all events here it is."
+
+With this she drew forth from her pocket, and laid on the table, the 
+filagree bracelet.
+
+"Is that all?" asked Cornelius, seeming much relieved.
+
+"I think it quite enough, considering where it was found," shortly said 
+Kate.
+
+"In the studio! What about it: was it not in the studio I gave it to 
+her?"
+
+"That is all very well, but I should like to know how it has got stained 
+with the very same ochre that was used to daub the face of poor Medora."
+
+"Even that is nothing, Kate; you know well enough that everything Daisy 
+wears bears traces of the place where she spends her days."
+
+Miriam had remained indifferent and calm, whilst all this was going on in 
+her presence; she had not changed her attitude, scarcely had she raised 
+her eyes, or cast a look around her. She now stretched forth her hand, 
+took up the bracelet from the table where it lay, looked at it, laid it 
+down again, and said very quietly--
+
+"It is mine."
+
+"Yours!" cried Cornelius.
+
+"Yes, I know it by the clasp. I put it on this morning, and dropped it, I 
+suppose, in the studio."
+
+"There, Kate," triumphantly exclaimed Cornelius, "so much for 
+circumstantial evidence!"
+
+Kate looked utterly confounded.
+
+"Yours," she said to Miriam, "yours? are you quite sure it is really 
+yours?"
+
+"Quite sure," was the composed reply.
+
+Miss O'Reilly turned to me, and asked shortly--
+
+"Why did you not say it was not yours?"
+
+"I did not know it was not mine, Kate. I knew I had left mine in the 
+studio."
+
+"Then it is really yours!" said Kate, again turning to Miriam, who 
+replied with an impatient "Yes," and an ill-suppressed yawn of mingled 
+indifference.
+
+"Truth is strong," rather sadly said Kate; "the bracelet which you put on 
+this morning, Miss Russell, was picked op by me last night at the door of 
+the studio."
+
+Miriam gave a sudden spring on her chair; if a look could have struck 
+Kate to the heart, her look would have done it then. But Kate only shook 
+her handsome head, and smiled, fearless and disdainful.
+
+"Yes," she said again, "I picked it up there last night, thought it was 
+Daisy's, and, to give her a lesson of carefulness, I said nothing about 
+it. This morning I suppressed it from another motive. Do you claim it 
+still, Miss Russell?"
+
+Everything like emotion had already passed from the face of Miriam. She 
+had sunk hack on her seat; her look had again become indifferent and 
+abstracted; her countenance again wore the expression of fatigue and 
+_ennui_ it had worn the whole evening. As Kate addressed her, she looked 
+up, and very calmly said--
+
+"Why not?"
+
+I looked at Cornelius; his brow, his cheek, his lip, had the pallor of 
+marble or of death: he did not speak, he did not move; he looked like one 
+whose very last stronghold the enemy has reached, and who beholds his own 
+ruin with more of silent stupor than of grief. At length he put me away; 
+he rose; he went up to the table which divided him from Miriam; he laid 
+both his hands upon it, and looking at her across, he bent slightly 
+forward, and said, in a voice that seemed to come from the depths of his 
+heart--
+
+
+"Miriam, tell me you did not do it; Miriam!"
+
+She did not reply.
+
+"Tell me you did not do it--I will believe you."
+
+Miriam looked at him; as she saw the doubt and misery painted on his 
+face, something like pity passed on hers.
+
+"Would you?" she said, with some surprise. "No, Cornelius, you could not, 
+and even if you could, I would not prolong this. I might deny or give 
+some explanation at which you would grasp eagerly; but where is the 
+use?--I am weary." She passed her hand across her brow, as if to put by  
+someheavy sense of fatigue, and looked round at us with an expression of 
+dreary languor in her gaze which I have never forgotten. "I am weary," 
+she said again; "for days and weeks this sense of fatigue has been 
+creeping over me. The struggle to win that I never should have prized 
+when won, is ended. I regret it not--still less should you."
+
+"Miriam," passionately said Cornelius, "it is false, and you must, you 
+shall deny it."
+
+"I will not," Miriam replied firmly, and not without a certain cool 
+dignity which she preserved to the last. "I tell you I am weary, and that 
+if this did not part us, something else should."
+
+A chair stood near Cornelius; he sat down, and gave Miriam a long, 
+searching glance, that seemed to ask, in its dismay and indignant grief--
+"Are you the woman whom I have loved?"
+
+"You never understood me," she said, impatiently. "You might have guessed 
+that I had, from youth upwards, lived in the fever of passion inspired or 
+felt; you might have known that I should master or be mastered. I warned 
+you that though I could promise nothing, I should exact much, and you 
+defied me to exact too much. Yet when it came to the test--what did you 
+give me? a feeling weak as water, cold as ice! Why, you would not so much 
+as have given up what you call Art for my sake!"
+
+"Nor for that of mortal woman," indignantly replied Cornelius. "Give up 
+painting! Do you forget I told you I would love you as a man should 
+love?"
+
+"That is, I suppose, a little more than Daisy, and something less than 
+your pictures. I have been accustomed to other love."
+
+Cornelius reddened.
+
+"An unworthy passion," he said, "stops at nothing to secure its 
+gratification; a noble one is bound by honour."
+
+"I leave you to such passions," calmly answered Miriam; "to painting, 
+which you love so much; to the domestic affections in which you weakly 
+thought to include me. I have tried to make you feel what I call passion, 
+I have failed; it is well that we should part; let us do so quietly, and 
+without recrimination."
+
+Cornelius looked at her like one confounded. She spoke composedly, as if 
+she neither cared for nor felt that, on her own confession, she was 
+guilty. Of excuse or justification she evidently thought not.
+
+"You think of Daisy," she continued; "think of my conduct to her what you 
+choose. I will only say this, though she, poor child, has hated me, as 
+she loved you, with her whole heart, you have been, are still, and will 
+remain, her greatest enemy."
+
+"I!" indignantly exclaimed Cornelius.
+
+"Yes: and you must be blind not to see that, by seeking to sever from you 
+a child whom a few years will make a woman, I was her best friend; and so 
+she will know some day, when you break her heart, and tell her you never 
+meant it."
+
+"May God forsake me when I place not her happiness before mine!" replied 
+Cornelius, in a low tone, and giving me a troubled look.
+
+"You are generous," answered Miriam, with an ironical, but not unmusical 
+laugh, and looking at me over her shoulder with all the scorn of 
+conscious beauty; "you think so now; but I know, and have always known, 
+better. And yet, spite of that knowledge, and though with foolish 
+insolence she ever placed herself in my way, I have felt sorry for her at 
+times. Of course you will not believe this: with the exaggeration of your 
+character, you will at once set me down as one delighting in evil; 
+whereas what you call evil is to me only a different form of good, 
+justifiable according to the end in view. If I had succeeded in inspiring 
+you with an exclusive, all-engrossing passion--even though the cost had 
+been a few pictures less, and the loss of Daisy's heart--know that I 
+would have conferred on you the greatest blessing one human being can 
+bestow on another."
+
+Her eyes shone with inward fire; her cheeks glowed; her parted lips 
+trembled. I do not think we had ever seen her half so beautiful. 
+Cornelius looked at her, and smiled bitterly.
+
+"I pity you," she said, with some scorn; "I pity you, to deride a feeling 
+you cannot feel: know that I at least speak not without the knowledge."
+
+"Oh, I know it," he exclaimed, involuntarily.
+
+"You know it?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, more slowly, "and I have known it long. One, whose 
+pride you had stung, found means to procure letters written by you some 
+years ago, and which proved to rue how ardently you had been attached to 
+another--now dead, it is true. For a whole day I thought to give you up; 
+but I was weak, I burned the letters, and said nothing. I loved you well 
+enough to forgive you the tacit deceit; too well to think of humbling you 
+by confessing that I knew it, and too jealously perhaps not to be glad to 
+annihilate every token of a previous affection."
+
+"Humbling me!" said Miriam, rising; "know that it is my pride. I felt not 
+like you, Cornelius; I would have made myself the slave of him whom I 
+loved, had he wished it."
+
+She folded her hands on her bosom, like one who gloried in her 
+subjection, and continued--
+
+"Proud and wilful as I am, _he_ could bend me to his will. I mistook your 
+energy for power, and thought you could do so too. I mistook my own 
+heart, and thought I could feel again as I once had felt. Since I 
+discovered the twofold mistake, there has been nothing save weariness and 
+vexation of spirit to me. I knew it should end--do not wonder I am now 
+glad and relieved that it is ended."
+
+She spoke in the tone with which she had said "I am weary;" the lustre 
+had left her eyes, the colour her cheek; her mien was again languid and 
+careless. She cast an indifferent look around her, drew the silk scarf 
+which she wore, closer over her shoulders, turned away, and left the room 
+without once looking back.
+
+A deep silence, that seemed as if it never could end, followed her 
+departure. Kate sat in her usual place, her look sadly fixed on her 
+brother. His face was supported and partly shaded by his hand. He neither 
+moved nor spoke. At length his sister rose and went up to him. She laid 
+her hand on his shoulder, and stooping, said gently--
+
+"Cornelius!"
+
+He looked up at her wistfully, and said, in a low tone--
+
+"Kate, I thought her little less than an angel; what a poor dupe I have 
+been!"
+
+"But you will bear it," she said earnestly, "I know you will."
+
+"Yes," he answered, though his lip trembled a little as he said it; "it 
+is hard, but it is not more than a man can bear."
+
+He rose as he spoke.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked Kate, detaining him.
+
+"Out; do not be uneasy about me, Kate."
+
+"But it is pouring fast."
+
+"Never mind."
+
+His lips touched her brow--he left the room--we heard the street-door 
+close upon him, and in the silence which followed, the low, rushing sound 
+of the rain.
+
+"Poor fellow! poor fellow!" sadly said Kate, and, looking at one another, 
+we began to cry.
+
+ 
+
+END OF VOL. I. 
+
+ 
+
+
+
+
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