She did not appear to perceive the reproach that lingered in this apology. "You looked provoked enough for anything," she quietly answered, "but it was that unhappy child who made you lose all patience." "I have enough power over myself to promise you that, no matter what Daisy may do, I shall never again allow it to betray me into passion," said Cornelius very calmly; "I shall try the effect of forbearance; with regard to what passed this morning, I forgive her freely; may I trust that you also forgive her." "Indeed I do, poor thing!" sighed Miriam, as if she pitied my evil nature too much to resent any of its peculiar workings. No more was said on the subject; but Cornelius was as much pleased with my trust in him, as he was secretly hurt with the suspicion of Miriam. If in his manner to her I could see no difference, there was no mistaking the sudden increase of tenderness and affection with which he treated me. Had I only been wise, I might have availed myself of this opportunity to regain almost all I had lost; but who is wise in this world? I was foolish enough to fall into the first snare Miriam placed before me; again I showed myself an obstinate, sullen, jealous child. Cornelius however kept to his word; he bit his lip, curbed down his anger, and did not allow his voice to rise above the tones of a calm remonstrance. But better, far better for me that Cornelius should have given way to hasty speech, punished me, and the next hour forgiven me, than that he should have thus checked himself every time I transgressed. The resentment he daily repressed rankled in his mind; I irritated him constantly, and yet I compelled him to incessant self-control: I became a secret thorn in his side, the source of an unacknowledged pain, a warning that met him at every turn: if Miriam had designed it all in order to render my presence insupportable to him, she could scarcely have succeeded better. How changed was our once happy and peaceful home! a spirit of strife, of unquiet jealousy had entered it and poisoned all its joys; a sense of trouble and unhappiness hung over it like the sword over the head of Damocles, and robbed everything of its pleasure and its charm. Kate was grave, Cornelius irritable; I was wretched; she alone who had caused it all remained unalterably serene. Such a state of things could not last: we all vaguely felt it. The close of April brought the change. Breakfast, which had passed off as usual, was over when Cornelius told me to go up with him to his little studio. I obeyed with pleased alacrity; Medora was again lying by, and Miriam was not therefore to come; he had not shown of late much inclination for my society; I hailed this as a symptom of returning favour. As I found myself once more alone with him in the little room I knew so well, I exclaimed joyfully-- "How kind it is of you, Cornelius, to have asked me to come up!" "Is it?" he replied, without looking at me.