She rose to go downstairs. I wanted to go with her, but she gaily told me she no more fancied being followed than being hung about, so I had to remain behind, but with the blessed consciousness, it is true, that there was to be no second parting. Joy made me restless. I knew not what to do with myself. I went to the window; I looked at the flowers, at the books, and finally at Cornelius, who, to read his letter more comfortably, was sitting on the sofa. I saw that when he had done he began it over again. It was a lady's hand; there was no difficulty in guessing from whom it came. When the second perusal was over he looked up; as our eyes met I came forward rather hesitatingly, and standing before him, I said-- "May I speak to you, Cornelius?" "Certainly, but do not be too long about it?" "It will not take long. I only want to thank you for having brought me home to Kate." "You thank me for that?" "Yes, Cornelius, it has made me so happy." "I am glad to hear it, though I did not mean it." "Did you not?" I replied, rather mortified. "No," he continued, in an indifferent tone, "not at all. It is true there was once a little girl who used not to be shy and distant with me"--I drew a little nearer--"who would not speak to me standing, but sitting by my side"--I sat down by him--"and whom I used to call my child," continued Cornelius without looking at me; "and it is also true," he added in the same way, "that feeling rather dull, I thought one morning I would go and bring her home; but if there was any kindness in this, I cannot say I meant it all for her or for Kate." He turned round, smiling as he spoke. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him eagerly. I felt so happy; he laughed. "Poor Kate!" he said, gaily, "well may she object to being hung on after this fashion; but I am used to it." "If you had not spoken so, you know I should not," I replied, half offended. "No, you sulky little thing," he said almost indignantly, "I know you would not: what between obstinacy and pride, you would never give in. But you mistook, Daisy, if you thought you could make me fancy you preferred Kate to me." "As if I was not sure you knew better!" I answered, with the frank ingratitude of my years. "Thank you, Daisy," said the somewhat sorrowful voice of Kate. I looked up. She was standing behind us; she had evidently overheard our last words. I felt myself crimsoning with shame, and hid my face on the shoulder of Cornelius. "Don't hide your face, child," quietly observed Kate, "I do not prefer you: why should you prefer me? Besides, loving him more is not loving me less, and I was not so foolish as not to know it was thus: so look up." "Yes, look up," said Cornelius, raising my face. "Kate is not vexed with you." "But Kate is vexed with you, Cornelius," she remarked, very gravely: "do you mean to spoil that child, to--" "Yes," interrupted Cornelius.