I was too proud and too much hurt to enter on a justification. I left the room; at the door I met Miriam, who gave me a covert look as she entered the studio. I went to my room and remained there until dinner-time. Cornelius took no notice of me; Miriam, who often dined with us, was, on the other hand, very kind and attentive. I saw she had got it all out from him. Kate behaved like one who knew and suspected nothing; admired the bracelets, and seeing that I wanted to linger with her in the parlour after the two had left it, she gaily told me to be off, for that she wanted none of my company, as she was going out. I obeyed so far as leaving the parlour went, but I did not enter the studio. I took refuge in my own room, there to lament my sin and imprudence. I knew well enough how wrong were the feelings I had expressed to Cornelius, and better still how a few passionate words had undone a month's patience and silent endurance. I stayed in my room until dusk; as daylight waned, I heard Miriam leave and go down. I waited for awhile, then softly stole up to the studio. I entered it with a beating heart, thinking to make my peace with Cornelius. The room was vacant. I sat down by the table, hoping he might return, but he did not. I lingered there, that if he called me down to tea, he might thus give me an opportunity of speaking to him. He did call me, but from the first floor. "What are you doing in the studio?" he asked, rather sharply when I went down. "I went up to speak to you, Cornelius." "And you therefore looked for me in a place where I never am at this hour! Say you went up there to indulge in a fit of sulkiness, and do not equivocate." I could not answer, I was too much hurt by his unkind tone and manner. Of course I ventured no attempt at reconciliation. It was Miriam who made the tea. The meal was silent and soon over. The lovers went out in the garden. I remained alone. Ere long Deborah looked in. "I am going out, Miss," she said, "is there anything wanted?" I replied that she had better ask her master. The back-parlour door and window stood open. I heard her question and his answer, "Nothing;" then she left, and I saw her go down the Grove. It was getting quite dark, yet Cornelius and Miriam lingered out together. I fancied they were taking a walk in the lanes; but on going to the back-parlour window, I saw them both standing by the sun-dial. The moon shone full upon them, on her especially; and even I, seeing her thus, was bitterly obliged to confess the beauty I had vainly denied in the morning. She still wore the white robe of Medora, and, standing by the sun-dial with her magnificent bare arm resting upon it, she looked like a beautiful statue of repose and silence. Cornelius stood by her, holding her other hand clasped in his, but silent too. "You have lost it again," he said at length. "Look for it," was her careless reply.