"You do not ask to what school you are going?" "I do not care, Cornelius." "It is not, properly speaking, a school. The Misses Clapperton are amiable and accomplished women, who eke out a somewhat narrow income by receiving a limited number of pupils. At present they have only two; they can therefore devote all their attention to them and to you. It has always been my ambition that you should be well educated." I could not help looking at him. Well educated, and his ambition! Ay, I had had a master once, loved, preferred, honoured beyond any other teacher, who taught me every evening, often on his knee, with looks of kindness and caresses of love. Him I had long lost; but then why tell me of others hired to impart the teaching he had grown weary of giving? "When am I to go?" I asked after awhile. "To-morrow morning; you can stay longer if you wish." "No, thank you." "Is there anything you wish for? Tell me freely." "I should like to see all your drawings again and to arrange them; they want it, I know." He put me down, rose, brought me the portfolios, and emptied their contents for me. I began my task; I had the spirit of order in details which most women possess; I had often before been of use to Cornelius in such matters, and I found a sorrowful pleasure in being of use to him again, in leaving him this last token of my presence. I could not cease loving him because he chose to banish me; the less I received and the more I gave; it seemed as if what he withdrew, I should make up, that the sum of love between us might never grow less. Whilst I was busy with my task, Cornelius worked. Every now and then I ventured to disturb him: either it was a drawing I wanted him to look at, or I begged of him to notice the system of my arrangement. "Because, you know," I once observed, "I shall not be here to tell you." "Very true," he replied, rather ruefully. I believe he was not prepared for so entire and resigned a submission. He forgot that it was only in the presence of Miriam he could not master me. My docility seemed to affect him more than might have done my tears, had I shed any. His kind face became quite sorrowful; once he left by his work to come and look over my task, and seeing a little drawing in which he had represented himself at his easel with me looking on, and which we had christened "The Artist's Studio," he told me to leave it out, for that he should hang it up. "Will you indeed?" I said. I was kneeling on the floor, with the drawings scattered around me; he sat half behind me; I turned round and looked up into his face, smiling with mingled pleasure and sadness. He took my head in both his hands, and looked at me intently; there seemed a charm that kept my eyes on his. "Ah!" he said at length, "if I dare! but I should only repent it the next five minutes--so it must not be."