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.