"I cannot," I exclaimed passionately, "how can I?" He interrupted me. "Take care!" he said again, "do not persist. I speak calmly, but I am still very angry, Daisy. Do not presume--do not deny." Oh yes! he was still very angry. His contracted brow--his restless look, that burned with ill-repressed fire--his lip, which he gnawed impatiently, told me that his wrath was only sleeping beneath seeming calmness. He would not let me deny, I could not confess; a strange sort of despair and recklessness seized me. I drew nearer to him. I flung my arms around his neck and laid my head on his bosom, feeling that if his wrath were to fall on me, it should at least strike me there. He did not put me away--very far from it--he drew me closer to him. "Oh yes!" he said, looking down at me, "I am very fond of you, Daisy. Yes, I love you very much--you need not come here to tell me so--I know it, and never know it better than when you vex me: if you were to die to- morrow, I should grieve for days, weeks, and months, but for all that I am very angry, and you will do well not to provoke me." Why did I find so strange a charm in his very wrath, that I could not resist the impulse which made me press my lips to his cheek? "Yes," he observed, quietly, "you may kiss me too; but do not trust to that--not even if I kiss you--I am very angry." "But you love me, Cornelius, you know you do; be as angry as you will, you cannot make me fear." "Yes, I love you--you perverse child!" he replied, with a strange look; "but for all that, know what you have to expect. Confess, and I forgive you freely. Deny, and you will find me as pitiless in my resentment, as I am now free in my forgiveness. I will keep you in my home, it is true, but I will banish you from my arms and from my heart. I can, Daisy! Yes, as surely as your arms are now around my neck and your cheek now lies to mine, as surely as I now give you this kiss, will I abide by what I say." He kissed me as he spoke, and very kindly too; yet his pale, determined face gave me not the faintest hope that I could move him. I looked at him, and he smiled, as with the consciousness of an unalterable resolve. This, then, was my fate--never more to be loved, cherished, or caressed by Cornelius. It rose before me in all its desolateness and gloom. One moment I felt tempted to yield, but conscience rose indignant, and pride spurned at the thought. I looked at Cornelius through gathering tears. I called him cruel, severe, and implacable in my heart, and yet I do not think I had ever loved him half so well; perhaps because the conviction on which he condemned me was so sincere, and, spite of his belief in my guilt, his love still so fervent. "Well!" he said impatiently; for I was lingering, reluctant to leave that embrace which it seemed was to be my last. I drew my arms closer around his neck,--I kissed his brow, his cheek, his hand.