"Which was to set up Hymen: well, no matter, it is not much, and cannot last for ever. What will you do when it is out?" "Borrow from you, Kitty," he replied, laying his hand on her shoulder with a smile; "won't you lend to me?" "Not a shilling," she answered, looking him full in the face, "unless you give me your word of honour not to go back to Laban and Leah." "'Faith, she is not such a beauty that I cannot keep the vow of inconstancy to her," he said, rather saucily, "you have my word, Kate. Well, what do you look so grave about?" "I am thinking, Cornelius, that I am meddling as I never meant to meddle; that I am perhaps aiding to delay your marriage." Her look was bent attentively on his face. "Not a bit," he promptly replied; "I consider every picture I paint as a step taken to the altar. Besides," he philosophically added, "I was only twenty-three the other day. There is no time lost." "They are all alike," indignantly said Kate: "two weeks ago you were half mad because your marriage was delayed, now you talk of there being no time lost." "Since I am to wait," coolly replied Cornelius, "I confess the more or less does not make so great a difference. I was rather indignant at first, but since then I have thanked Miriam." "You have?" said Kate. "Indeed I have. It would have spoiled my prospects, and though she did not say so, that I am sure was her reason for disappointing me. She shall not again complain of my unreasonable impatience. I am quite resolved not to think of Hymen until, love apart, a woman may take some pride in me." "They are all alike, all alike," again said Kate; "love for a bit, ambition for life." Cornelius laughed. "Miriam would despise me," he observed, "if I could sit down in idleness. Besides, love is a feeling, not a task: it may pervade a lifetime; I defy it to fill an entire day without something of weariness creeping in. There is nothing like work in this world,--nothing, Kate." "When do you mean to begin?" "To-morrow, of course." "What becomes of your letter?" "I shall write it this evening. And now, Daisy," he added, turning to me, "let us see how you have studied." I brought my books, and the lessons filled--how pleasantly for me!--the greater part of the evening, which Cornelius closed, as he said, by writing his letter. I was scarcely dressed on the following morning, when his voice summoned me from above. I ran up hastily; he was standing on the landing, at the door of the studio, evidently waiting for me, and evidently too in one of his impatient fits. "Loiterer!" was his greeting, "after such a sleep as you had yesterday, could you not get up earlier?--two hours of broad daylight actually gone!" "Did I know you wanted me, Cornelius?" "Did I know it myself? Now come in--look here--give me your opinion, your candid opinion."