"What right have you to know?" she asked, with a jealous bitterness that exasperated me.
"Every right," I replied, indignantly. "What have I done to be so treated?"
"What have you done? Why, you have done that I believe there is nothing so dear to him as you are; that his last request was, that instead of going with him, I should stay with you and wait your wakening; that his last kiss was that which he gave you as you slept. If you want to know more, here is a letter for you. Ask me not another question; I shall not answer. I have no more to say, and I have enough of my own grief."
She handed me a folded paper. I opened it and read:--
"Forgive me, Daisy, if I forsake you thus by stealth; but partings are bitter things. I wished to spare you some pain, and myself a severe though useless trial. I had promised to leave you and Kate no more; but you must have noticed how restless my temper has been of late; indeed, there is in my blood an unquiet fever which only liberty and a life of wandering can appease. Good bye, Daisy, God bless you! May you be happy, ay, even to the fullness of your heart's wishes."
Kate need not have asked for my silence. I laid down her brother's letter without a word, not a syllable could I have uttered then; I was hurt; hurt to the very heart. Cornelius had forsaken me cruelly; he had done to the girl what pity would never have let him do to the child; he had left me in my sleep, without one word of adieu.
I felt the shock and bitterness of this sudden separation, and more bitterly still the desertion. How could I, after this, think that Cornelius cared for me? He had liked me, amused himself with me, but I had never been to him that living portion of the heart which we call a friend. I could bear his absence, but that he should not care for me, that he should have been trifling with me all along, I could not bear. I paced the room up and down, vainly trying to keep in my sobs and tears.
As I passed by the table, a folded paper caught my attention, I seized it eagerly with that vague hope which clings to everything. In this case it was not deceived.
"Oh! Kate, Kate!" I cried, throwing my arms around her neck in a transport of joy too deep not to make me forget the few sharp words that had passed between us.
"Well, what is it?" she asked, amazed.
"He'll come back; he'll come back; he has forgotten his passport. Oh! I am so glad! so happy; he can't travel without it, you know. I defy him to go to Spain now."
I laughed and cried for joy. She sighed.
"And if he does come back," she said, "it will be to go away again."
"We shall see that," I replied indignantly. "I will not let him, Kate. He has accustomed me to have my way of late, and in this I will have it."
She shook her head incredulously; but I was confident and did not heed her; a low rumbling sound down the street had attracted my attention.
"There he is!" I cried joyfully; and with a beating heart I ran to the street door. I opened it very softly, and keeping it ajar, I listened.
The sound had ceased, and for a moment all I heard was the voice of Kate whispering in my ear--
"Daisy, if you let him go this time, I shall never forgive you. Do not mind what I said; keep him; you can if you wish."
I had not time to think on her words or ask her for their meaning; a quick and well-known step was coming up the Grove--the garden gate opened--no bell rang, but a hand tapped lightly at the parlour shutters.
I opened the door wide and Cornelius, for it was he, came up to me.
"I have forgotten my passport," he said, in a low tone; "it is on the table in the back-parlour. Is she still asleep?"
Before I could reply, the moon, that had kept hid behind a dark cloud, came forth bright and undimmed; her light fell on my face; I saw him start.
"Will you not come in, Cornelius?" I said quietly. But he stood there at the door of his own home, mute and motionless as a statue. "Well then," I continued, "I must go out to you; perhaps before you cross the seas again, standing on the threshold of your dwelling, you will not refuse to grant me what you did not think fit to give me within it--the luxury of a last adieu--of a last embrace!"
I stepped out to him as I spoke; but he made me re-enter the house, and followed me in.
"Daisy," he said, with a sigh, "I wished to leave whilst you were away, and fate brought you back; I stole away whilst you were asleep, and I was compelled to return and find you awake. I thought to spare us both some pain. I cannot; be it so; you shall have your wish."
His voice plainly said: "Your wish, and no more."
"Very well," I replied, quietly; for though I was resolved he should not go, I knew better than to startle him.
We re-entered together the back parlour; Kate had left it; but the lamp still burned on the table. Cornelius sat down by it; his face was pale, watchful, determined. I saw he was fully on his guard, and prepared to resist unflinchingly to the last. I was as determined to insist and prevail. Oh! daily life, that art called tame and reproved as dull, how is it that to me thou hast ever been so full of strange agitating dramas, I sat down by Cornelius; I passed my arm within his, and looking up into his face, I said:
"When, a few hours ago, I felt so glad to see you safe, Cornelius, I knew not I was looking my last for a long time."
He did not answer; I continued:
"Oh, if I had known we were going to part, how differently I should have spent this evening! I would not have talked away so foolishly, but have asked you so many questions--settled so many things! whereas now I have only a few minutes, and can think of nothing save that you are going away, Cornelius."
He quailed, but only momentarily; if his lip trembled a little, his unmoved look told of unconquerable resolve.
"You, it seems," I resumed, "had nothing to say to me, Cornelius, or you could not have wished to go away thus?"
He drew forth his watch, and said, briefly:
"I must go soon, Daisy."
"Kate says you are to be years away--is it true?"
His silence was equivalent to an assent.
"Well then, give me the farewell of years," I said, passing my arms around his neck, and compelling his face to look down at mine.
He seemed a little troubled, and made a motion to rise. I detained him.
"A little longer," I entreated; "I have thought of some things about which I wish to question you."
"Pray be quick, Daisy."
"Why do you go to Spain?"
"For change."
"You are tired of us?"
"I am tired of a quiet life."
"Go to France, Cornelius."
"Why so?"
"It is nearer."
"Daisy, I must really go now."
"A little longer; I have something else to say."
"What is it?"
"I have forgotten; but give me time to remember."