"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.