I started and woke from my dream.
"Cornelius," I replied, hesitatingly, "I have not run away--I am come to see you."
He looked transfixed.
"To see me!" he said at length; "and do you think I will let you leave me? No, Daisy, you have placed in my way a temptation mortal man could not resist. I tell you that I have you, and that I will keep you."
He took my two hands in his. I tried to disengage them; but though his grasp was so gentle I scarcely felt it, it held me completely captive. He smiled at my useless efforts; then said with some reproach:
"Oh, Daisy! the little girl whom I carried in my arms seven years ago, was willing enough. I had not, even in jest, to hold her hands. She clasped them around my neck lovingly and trustingly, laid her hand on my shoulder, and had but one fear--lest I should leave her behind."
He released me, and added, in his most fervent and beseeching accents:
"Come with me, Daisy; come with me. If you ever cared for me, show it now--come with me. Don't drive me to do something desperate--I tell you that I will never leave Leigh without you. Come with me!"
He had again clasped his arms around me, and held me within a circle more potent than that of any magic spell. I laid my two hands on his shoulders, and smiled up at him, as I replied:
"I should have told you at once, but I was so glad, that I forgot it; and you are so impatient that you won't hear me out. Mr. Thornton has changed his mind--he says I may be with you and Kate again--all on a condition."
"What condition?" he promptly asked.
"I don't know--he will tell it to you himself, and you will agree to it-- won't you, Cornelius?"
"No," he replied, impatiently; "this is a snare. Besides, why submit to a condition when I have you here without one? Oh, Daisy! now is the moment.
Fate, or rather Providence, has made us meet--we must not have the madness to part again. I have missed one opportunity--I will not miss another. Trust to me. Cast by all thought, all fear--look not behind or before you. Come, Daisy, not to-morrow--not to-night--but now! Come with me--come!"
He rose, as if to lead me away that very moment; but he still held me fast, and that clasp which the passion of the moment only rendered more secure, his flushed face, eager looks, and feverish accents, all breathed the most vehement and ardent entreaty.
Subdued by his resolute tenderness, I yielded, but for a moment only; the next, I rallied and resisted. I made a desperate effort, and, both bodily and mentally, asserted my freedom.
"No, no, Cornelius," I cried, agitatedly, "I cannot go with you. I, too, have passed my word, and I must keep it--I must keep it; and you must not ask or tempt me to break it--indeed, Cornelius, you must not."
I spoke as I felt, with much distress. Cornelius calmed down at once, and entreated me to be pacified.
"I had forgotten your promise;" he said, "seeing you here, I had but one thought [] to possess and secure that which I had lost. I will submit to Mr. Thornton's conditions, and take you back to him this moment. What more would you have?"
In his earnestness, he again took my hand. My lips parted to thank him, but the entrance of our old servant checked the words. She muttered indistinctly, as was her wont, then kept the door open, and admitted--Mr.
Thornton.
For a moment, he stood still on the threshold, and looked confounded.
Neither Cornelius nor I spoke.
"So," he said at length, "I fancy I leave you safe at home writing a letter, and give myself the trouble of coming here to have some private talk with Mr. O'Reilly; and you are actually here before-hand with me."
"I could find no one to send the letter by, Sir," I replied, quite dismayed. "I am sorry if I have done wrong."
"Wrong!" echoed Cornelius, looking displeased, and drawing me towards him as he spoke.
I saw his proud and hasty temper would ruin all; I hastened to interfere.
"I have been speaking to Mr. O'Reilly," I said, quickly, "and he has promised to abide by the conditions. You know, Cornelius, you have promised," I added, turning towards him.
He could not deny it, but reddened, and bit his lip. Mr. Thornton said nothing, but sat down, and looked at us with a keen and attentive gaze, which Cornelius did not seem to relish.
"You wished to speak to me, Sir," he said, at length.
"Yes, Sir," composedly answered my grandfather, "I came here for that purpose, just as you came to me on the same errand seven years ago. Sir, I am a plain man, and I shall speak plainly. I think it is a strange thing that since you in some manner forced this young girl upon me, you are ever doing all you can to get her back--ay, and a very strange thing."
He looked at him fixedly. Cornelius returned the gaze, and the question:
"Is it a stranger thing, Sir, than that you, who accepted this young girl so reluctantly, should since always show yourself so anxious to keep her?"
"Perhaps not," drily replied Mr. Thornton; "but I meant to be brief. What I have to say is this: When I placed her with Mrs. Gray, I never intended, Sir, that you should see her face again. I had my motives. The physician having, however, pronounced her consumptive, I thought, if she was to die, she might as well be humoured. But when I returned, a few weeks ago, I learned that the little thing was alive and well; that you, too, had returned from your travels, and had turned out a most vigilant and attentive guardian; and it occurred to me that I might as well remind you of your promise. For this, too, I had my motives. You redeemed your word honourably, without taking advantage of your position or influence; but it was the old story all over--no sooner was she out of your hands, than you were half mad to have her back again. She, too, wanted to be off; and, to show me what a tyrant I was, and what a victim I made of her, she got thin and sallow with all her might. Sir, I give in; on the condition I shall name presently--she may dispose of herself as she thinks fit. But this time, as well as before, you owe me no thanks. It is to gratify her I do it."
"And this time, as before, it is to please her I submit to a condition,"
haughtily replied Cornelius.
I still stood by him and gave his arm a warning and entreating pressure.
My grandfather calmly resumed:
"She is young, and much under your influence. I wish her to remain quite free, and shall be satisfied if you will promise not to make a present of her to any bosom friend of yours that might take a fancy to her, you understand."
"Yes, Sir, I understand." replied Cornelius, with subdued irritation, "but I decline pledging myself for her."
"I do not require it," said Mr. Thornton, a little ironically, "I care not a rush on whom the silly thing bestows herself, but I like fair play, and want her to give herself, and not to be given--or taken either. If she runs away without your knowledge, depend upon it I shall not accuse you. I ask you to pledge yourself for yourself--do you object?"
"No, no," I replied eagerly for him, "Cornelius does not object. Bless you, Mr. Thornton, _he_ does not want to give me away. Of course he does not. You don't, Cornelius, do you?" I added, looking up in his face, and passing my arm within his.
My grandfather laughed sarcastically. Cornelius looked exasperated. He seemed to be undergoing a sharp, inward struggle; at length he yielded.
"For her sake, Sir," he said, addressing Mr. Thornton, "and hers alone, I yield; I give you the promise you require. Allow me to add that you either trust me a great deal too much, or far too little."
He spoke with such defiant pride, that I looked half frightened at my grandfather; but he only smiled and rose. I saw he was going, and left Cornelius to bid him adieu.
"Good-bye!" he said, roughly; yet when I passed my arm around his neck, and, for the first time touched his cheek with my lips, he looked more astonished than displeased; but he had so long broken with the charities of life, that to return the embrace probably did not occur to him. All he did was to look from me to Cornelius, and say, with a careless nod:
"She's a pretty little thing," having delivered which opinion, he turned away and left us.
Scarcely had the door closed on him, when Cornelius broke out.
"Oh, Daisy!" he exclaimed, "what have you made me do! And why must I, who hate the mere thought of interference and subjection, thus hold you on the good-will and pleasure of another."
He paced the room with agitated steps. I saw his pride suffered, and following him, I did my best to soothe him; at length I succeeded; he stopped short before me, looked down at me with a smile, and said:
"I almost forgive your perverse old grandfather everything, for the sake of his last words. You are a pretty little thing--and better than you are pretty," he added fondly.
"Then mind you appreciate me," I replied.
He said there was no fear that he should not.