"My poor child, you do not understand me; indeed it is very difficult; but wives do not like their husbands to care for those who cannot be included in the circle of home; they want to have them for themselves and their children." "I shall be very fond of his children, if he has any," I answered; "indeed I shall, Kate; I shall love them as I love him--with my whole heart." "You foolish girl, that is just the mischief." And she proceeded to explain the feeling I was to have for Cornelius: it was so cool, so distant, that it chilled me to hear her. "Kate," I said, "I think I could sooner hate Cornelius--and I am sure I never could do that--than like him in that strange way; and I am very sure," I added, after a pause, "that is not at all the way in which you like him." She smiled, and kissed me, and told me to like him my own way; that God would see to the future, and not let sorrow come out of true affection. I did not understand her then, nor did she intend I should. Since that time, I have divined that she looked with uneasiness to coming years, and wished to subdue in time a feeling that might prove far more fatal to my own peace than to that of her brother. She meant well, but she had the wisdom not to insist; it was not in her power to make me love him less; it was in the power of none, not even in his own. If for that purpose he had exiled me; if to cool my affection he came so seldom near me, and gave me not his long-promised walk, he failed. I felt the banishment, the visit ever deferred, the promise never kept; but I still loved him with my whole heart. At length, one morning in the week, and towards the middle of June, I was told by Miss Mary Clapperton that Mr. O'Reilly and another gentleman wanted to speak to me. I went down wondering if Mr. Smalley or Mr. Trim had taken a fancy to pay me a visit. On entering the parlour, I saw Cornelius, who stood facing the door; the other gentleman sat with his back to it, and his clasped hands resting on the head of his cane. He looked up as I came in, and showed me the brown face, white beard, and keen black eyes of my grandfather. I went up to Cornelius, who gave me a quiet kiss, and standing by him, I looked at Mr. Thornton. "Come here!" he said. I obeyed, and went up to him. "Do you know me?" he growled, knitting his dark brow. "Yes, Sir." "Who am I?" "Mr. Thornton." "Humph! Do you know why I have come?" "No, Sir." "To rid Mr. O'Reilly of you." I did not reply. I knew I had become a burden and a thing to be got rid of. "I am going abroad," continued Mr. Thornton, "so I just want to settle that before I go; you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "Well, what have you to say to that?" "Nothing, Sir." Mr. Thornton turned to Cornelius, and said impatiently-- "Has the child grown an idiot? Why, there was twice as much spirit in her formerly." I saw Cornelius redden; but he did not reply. My grandfather again turned to me, and said--