"No, 'faith," he replied, hastily, and shaking back his head with an alarmed air, as if he already felt the cold steel, "do not dream of such a thing. Cut it off indeed!" and he slowly passed his fingers through his raven hair, in the glossy and luxuriant beauty of which he took a certain complacency. "Well!" said Kate, leaning back in her chair, folding her hands on her knees, and drawing in a long breath. "Well, what?" coolly asked Cornelius. "I never did see such a rainy night--never." "How kind of you to come!" observed Cornelius, bending forward to look at Miriam. She sat by the table, her arms crossed upon it, her eyes bent on us; she smiled without answering. "You look pale and fatigued," he said, with some concern. There was indeed on her face a strange expression of languor, weariness, and _ennui_. "Yes," she replied abstractedly, "I am weary." "I am not going to stand that, you know!" exclaimed Kate, whose attention was not diverted from me. "Will you just tell me, Daisy, or rather you, Cornelius, what has passed between you and Daisy since I left the room." Cornelius raised on his sister a sad look, which from her fell on me. "I have found out a great mistake," he said, reddening as he spoke, "and Daisy has been good enough to forgive me." "I wish you would not speak so," I observed, feeling ready to cry. "My dear, Kate might blame me." "No one has any right to blame you," I interrupted. "If I am your child, as you say sometimes, can't you do with me as you think fit?" I looked a little indignantly at Kate, who did not heed me. Her eyes sparkled; her cheeks were flushed. "A mistake!" she exclaimed eagerly, "that's right; I can't say I thought it was a mistake, but I always felt as if it were one. I never felt as if poor Daisy could be such a little traitor. How did he do it, Cornelius?" "_He?_ really, Kate, I don't know how _he_ did it, for I don't know who _he_ is." "Some jealous, envious, mean, paltry little fellow of a bad artist," hotly answered Kate. "I can tell you exactly what he's like: he squints, he limps, he wears his hat over his eyes, and is always looking round to see that no one is watching him--I see him--you need not laugh, Cornelius, I can tell you sow he did it; he came in by Deborah's window, and escaped across the leads. He is an artist decidedly, and he was mixed up with the rejection of your Sick Child; can't you trace the connection?" Cornelius did not look as if he could. "Never mind," continued Kate, "I shall find him out, but you must give me the links." "What links, Kate?" "Why, how you found it out, of course?" "Found out what, Kate?" "Don't be foolish, boy: why, that it was not Daisy." Cornelius stroked his chin, and looked at his sister with a perplexed air, then said-- "I don't think you will find it much of a link, Kate." "Nonsense! a hint is enough for me, you know."