Two days after this, I was well enough to be carried down to the garden in the arms of Cornelius, who sacrificed an hour of daylight to sitting by me on the bench. It was a warm and pleasant noon, and I was enjoying the delightful sense of existence which recovery from illness yields, when Miriam Russell suddenly appeared before us. She always had a noiseless step and had come down the steps from the porch so quietly that we had never heard her. I saw the blood rush to the brow of Cornelius, and felt the hand which mine clasped, tremble slightly. Miss Russell looked very calm; she asked me how I was; I replied. "Very well," and thanked her, in a low tone. Her statue-like beauty repelled the very idea of familiarity; her white chiselled features had the purity and coldness of sculptured marble; her face was faultless in outline, but it was too colourless, and her eyes, though fine and clear, were of a blue too pale. She gave me a careless look, then said to Cornelius, after refusing to be seated-- "You have kept your child." "She is still very weak." "Never mind, she will grow like my child yet." Cornelius liked me too well not to be partial. "Yes, she would be pretty if she were not so pale," he replied. "You spoil her, do you not?" asked Miriam. "Kate says so. Do I spoil you, Daisy?" I said "Yes," and half hid my face on his shoulder, whence I looked at Miriam, who smiled, as if the fondness of Cornelius for me, and mine for him, gave her pleasure to see. "She spoils me, but she won't let me have my way," said a soft lisping voice from the porch. We looked, and saw Miss Ducky's pretty curled head bending forward and looking at us. Her sister's whole face underwent a change on seeing her. "But then she's so jealous," continued Ducky, pouting, "I hope you are not jealous of Daisy." "Foolish child!" said Miriam, striving to smile. "But then she's very fond of me," resumed Ducky, smiling; "when Doctor Johnson, stupid man, said I could not live, she was nearly distracted. Silly of her, was it not, Mr. O'Reilly?" Her look so pertinaciously sought his that he could scarcely have avoided looking at her. She was very pretty thus in the gloom of the porch, and he smiled at her fresh young beauty. I saw Miriam glance uneasily from one to the other, then a cloud gathered on her brow. She bade us a sudden adieu, went up to her sister, and led her away, spite of her evident reluctance. Cornelius continued to look like one entranced on the spot where Miriam had lately stood; I was but a child, yet I knew he was now listening to the sweet and delusive voice of passion, unheeded during the earlier years of his youth, and enchanting him at last. I was watching his face attentively: he looked down, met my glance, and said quietly-- "Confess Miss Ducky is much prettier than her sister." If he wanted me to contradict, he was disappointed. "Yes, Cornelius," I replied, "she is."