"And you were quite like a daughter to him."
"I was, and am. Look, here is his last letter, beginning with 'my dear child,' and signed, 'your old friend, Cornelius;' but I have another at home, in which he actually calls me 'his dear, adopted daughter.' I am quite proud of it, for he is to be very celebrated, you know, and it is a great honour."
William again traced figures in the sand, but he did not speak.
"Well," I said, bending down to look at him, "what are you thinking of?"
"That I should like you to be proud of being my friend," he replied, with an earnest look.
"I am proud of it, so you have your wish."
"Yes, but I should like you to have cause, and also, Daisy, I should like to do something to please you. I wish I could."
"And so do I," 1 answered, laughing, "for you would bring him back at once."
"Indeed I would: in the first place, because your heart is set upon it; in the second, because I very much wish to know Mr. O'Reilly. I like him for your sake, and all he has done for you; and then, from what you tell me, I am sure he is a thoroughly good man."
I could not help laying my hand on the arm of William, and replying earnestly--
"Indeed, William, he is a good man, and when you see and know him, you will find that you were not mistaken, though good is not, I dare say, the word most people would apply to Cornelius O'Reilly."
William took this as a compliment to his penetration, and was rather gratified. The sun had set, grey evening was closing in; we rose, and walking together along the silent beach, we talked of Cornelius, and laid down plans of pleasant excursions up the coast, and far down the inland valleys, to be undertaken after his return. But, to our mutual mortification, William's leave of absence expired, nay the Academy opened, and Cornelius came not back to take us and the public by surprise. In her indignation, Miss O'Reilly declared that there could be but one interpretation given to such extraordinary conduct--"Cornelius has got entangled."
"How so, Kate?" I asked.
"Why, he is either married or going to be married to some Italian lady; that is it."
"Do you think so?" I asked quietly.
"Bless the child, how coolly she takes it!" exclaimed Kate, half angrily.
"I have no right to take it otherwise, Kate; besides, provided Cornelius comes back to us, what matter?"
"What matter! suppose he has been married all this time, and has a family about him!"
"I don't think Cornelius would marry as if he were ashamed of himself," I replied, rather indignantly; "then how can he have a family in two years?
and even if he had--"
"Nonsense, child!" interrupted Kate, impatiently, "I don't speak of it as a fact, and there you go, coolly dissecting every hasty word I utter, as if I were giving evidence before judge and jury!"
"Well, Kate, all I mean to say is this--if Cornelius has a wife and children, where is the harm, provided he does not settle in Italy?"
Miss O'Reilly was of a very different opinion, and, as she seemed inclined to be vexed with me for disagreeing with her, I dropped the subject and proposed a walk. She shortly replied that with an Italian sister-in-law in prospect she did not feel disposed for walking; but that, as the matter did not touch me, I was quite right in not taking it to heart. I did not answer; I did not wish to add to her annoyance by letting her see how bitter was my disappointment at the prolonged absence of Cornelius, and the voluntary obscurity under which he lingered.
The thought kept me awake in bed beyond my usual hour; but at length I slept. I awoke with a sudden start, I myself knew not why; I thought I had heard something in my sleep, what I could not tell. I sat up and listened; yes, there was a sound of voices below in the parlour. I rose and opened my door softly. One of the voices was that of Kate: the other--unheard for two years, but not forgotten?-was that so well known and so dear, of her brother. I did not give myself time for joy; I dressed hurriedly and slipped down. The parlour door stood ajar; I looked in; he sat by Kate, bending over her and embracing her with a fondness which, as I felt, a little jealously, she had not called me down to share. He sat with his back turned to me, and saw me not; the floor was carpeted, my step was always light; I stood by his side ere he was conscious of my presence. I wished to speak, but the words died unuttered on my lips; I remained standing there, mute, motionless, and trembling from head to foot.
"Daisy!" he exclaimed, starting up. His arms were around me--I was gathered to his heart.
"Well!" he said, "what is the matter with you? You do not even give me a kiss. Have I grown strange?"
I did not answer; a singular feeling was coming over me; a mist fell on my eyes; the room seemed, with all it contained, to swim before my sight, then suddenly vanished in utter darkness. I had fainted for the first time in my life.
When I recovered I was lying on the sofa. Cornelius was bending over me, and helping his sister, armed with a formidable bottle, to rub my face and hands with vinegar.
"I am so glad," I cried, starting up.
"Why, there, she is all alive again!" exclaimed Miss O'Reilly.
"I am so glad," I continued, joyfully, "I thought I had dreamt it."
I sat up, and twining my arms around the neck of Cornelius, I kissed him, whilst my tears flowed fast. He sat down by me, and anxiously asked how I felt.
"Why, very well," I replied, laughing, in the gladness of my heart.
"Ay, ay," said Kate, smiling, "we may cork up the bottle, and lock it up, may we not, Daisy?"
"Are you sure you are quite well?" urged Cornelius; "you fainted, you know."
"Did I?" I had scarcely heeded the remark. Seated by him, with my arm locked in his, his hand clasping mine, I looked at him eagerly, delighting every sense with the consciousness of his dear presence. He asked me if the room did not feel too close, if I did not want air, and I could give him no answer, so charmed was I to listen to his voice again.
"Let her alone," said Kate, gaily; "she is well enough now; she fainted because she was glad to see you, and she got well at once for the same reason precisely. All she wants is to look at your face."
He turned it towards me; it was as kind and handsome as ever, not in the least altered. I could not take my eyes from it, and in the overflowing joy of my heart I exclaimed--
"Oh, Kate! Kate! I shall be too happy now, shall I not?"
"You see the poor child is as mad as ever," said Kate.
"I hope she has been a good girl in my absence," he observed, rather gravely.
"Of course she has."
"Learnt her lessons well?"
"Bless the boy!" exclaimed Kate, "does he think she is still a little girl? Don't you find her altered?"
"Oh yes, she has grown."
"Grown! grown!" impatiently said his sister, "of course she has! do you not think she has improved?"
"She seems much stronger."
Miss O'Reilly looked disappointed. Cornelius questioned me concerning my studies; I answered to his satisfaction; he stroked my hair and called me a good child.
"It is very odd you will persist in calling Daisy a child," drily said Miss O'Reilly.
"Well, am I not his child?" I asked.