"Viz. not much."
"I do not complain, Cornelius, she is very kind."
"And she gives you a very good character, and I have a.s.sured her she told me nothing new."
He had laid his hand on my shoulder, and he looked into my face with all the kindness of old times. I replied in a low tone--
"It was very kind of you, Cornelius, to say so."
"I only said what I thought; you need not thank me for it."
He spoke impatiently; I did not reply, and there was another long pause.
"Are you tired?" at length asked Cornelius, who was leading me through streets and bye places of which I knew nothing.
"A little."
"And there is not even a shop where I could make you rest; why did not you say so sooner?"
"I did not like to delay you."
"The next thing will be, that you will call me Mr. O"Reilly. Well, it is your own fault, and you will have to walk further before you rest, for I am taking you into the country."
We walked on until the houses grew thinner and began to skirt green fields. The sun was hot, and I found it pleasant to enter a cool and shady lane. There was a bank on which I could have rested, but Cornelius seemed to have forgotten my fatigue; he walked on, looking so abstracted that I did not dare to address him. At length we reached the corner of the lane, and turned into one so exactly like that leading to our old home, that I stopped short.
"Come on," coolly said Cornelius.
I did go on; every step showed me I had not been deceived; I recognized the hedges, the trees, with a beating heart. At length we came to the door I knew so well. Cornelius opened it with a latch-key, and without giving me a look, led me in. We crossed the garden, pa.s.sed by the sun- dial, stept in beneath the ivied porch, and entered the front parlour, where, by the window, in the cool shade of green Venetian blinds, Kate sat sewing.
CHAPTER XVIII.
I felt like one in a dream. Cornelius had dropped my hand; I stood at the door silent, motionless, not knowing whether I was to come forward or not, when Kate laid down her work and looked up.
"G.o.d bless me!" she exclaimed with a start, and she seemed so much astonished that I saw this was as great a matter of surprise to her as to me.
"Yes," Cornelius carelessly said, throwing himself down on the sofa, "I had long promised Daisy a walk, and not knowing where to take her, I brought her here."
By this I had found my way to Kate, who kissed me with her eyes glistening. I think she was as much pleased as myself; and yet with what an odd mixture of feelings I gazed on my lost home! how strange, how familiar seemed everything! As Kate took off my bonnet she said, decisively--
"You shall stay the whole day, Daisy."
"Then you must answer for it to Mrs. Gray," observed Cornelius.
"To be sure. Are you hungry, Midge?--No? What do you want, then?-- Nothing?"
"I am tired; I should like to sit down."
"Sit down by all means, child," she replied gaily.
I drew my old stool by her chair, and laid my head on her lap. She smiled and smoothed back my hair from my hot face: her other hand lay near it: I kissed it with trembling lips. It was kind of Cornelius--if he could no longer afford to be kind himself--to bring me back at least to her whose kindness, less tender and delightful, but more constant than his, had never failed me. Kate, who had put by her work, sat looking at me with a cheerful happy face.
"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, and perceiving that my eyes fast filled with tears, "you are not crying, Daisy?"
"And if I do cry," I hastily replied, "it is only because I am so happy to see you again."
She laughed and said--
"Why, child, this is Tuesday, and I saw you on Sunday."
"Well, I did not see you on Monday, did I?"
"Little flatterer!" she answered, yet she looked pleased, for love is to us all the sweetest thing on earth.
We remained thus for awhile; then Kate rose to attend to some domestic concerns. I wanted to follow her, but she told me to remain with Cornelius. I obeyed reluctantly; to be with him and not feel between us the friendly familiarity of old times, was no enjoyment, but a painful pleasure. I did not go near him, I did not speak; I sat on the chair Kate had left, and looked out of the window. He never addressed me; after awhile I heard him rise and leave the room. At once I slipped down to Kate, whom I found in the kitchen deep in pastry.
"Now child, what brings you here?" she asked, turning round, and all covered with flour.
"I want to be with you, Kate."
"I am making a pie."
"Then let me look at you."
"Why did you leave Cornelius?"
"It was he who left the parlour."
She wanted me to go up to the garden; but I begged so hard to remain with her, that she at length consented. I left her but once during the whole of that day, and then it was to knock at the door of the studio and tell Cornelius dinner was ready. When we sat down to the meal, I drew my chair close to hers; my old place was by Cornelius, but unless he told me to sit there again, which he did not, I did not feel as if I dare do so. He scarcely took any notice of me, and immediately after dinner again went up to his labour.
"Go after him," suggested Kate.
"I would rather stay here," I replied, startled at the idea.
"Stay then."
We sat together in the parlour until tea-time. Alas! how swiftly seemed to come round the hour that was to close this happy day; for, sitting below with Kate, conscious that Cornelius was upstairs working, reminded of old times by everything I saw, I did feel very happy.
As we sat at tea, Kate suddenly exclaimed, "Why, it is raining hard!"
"Yes, it is," carelessly replied Cornelius.
"Then the child must spend the night here."
"I suppose so."