"Why, there is a tea-spoon missing," hastily observed Kate, who had been holding a conference at the door with Deborah; "you had not one in the studio, had you, Cornelius?" He rose precipitately, left the room, and in a few minutes, came down with a melancholy face. "There was one and there is not one," he said, sadly,--"the perfidious wretches!" "I shall send the police after them," warmly cried Kate. "Will the police make them sit to me again?" impatiently asked Cornelius. "Indeed I hope not," indignantly replied his sister. "To leave me in such a predicament for the sake of a miserable tea- spoon!" he observed, feelingly. "A miserable tea-spoon! one of the dozen that has been fifty years in the family, with our crest, a hawk's head, upon it too! I am astonished at you, Cornelius; a miserable tea-spoon! you speak as if you had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth!" Cornelius sighed profoundly by way of reply; but even so tender a disappointment could not weigh long on his cheerful temper. "After all," he philosophically observed, "they left me my idea." "I wish the tea-spoon had been an idea," shortly said Kate. "Well, I wish it had," placidly replied her brother; "but I have at least the consolation of having hit on the very characters I wanted--arrant thieves." "Indeed you did, Cornelius." "I remember their features quite well, and shall without scruple consider and paint them too as the real abductors of Daisy; for it stands to reason that she would not be here now if they had only found some decent opportunity of abstracting her." "Or if she had only been a tea-spoon!" sighed Kate. "This incident will be of the greatest use to me," gravely continued Cornelius; "it will enable me to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the picture story." This was rather too much for Kate. But Cornelius bore her reproaches with great serenity, and found another motive of consolation in the fact that I, the principal figure, being always under his hand, it really was not so bad after all. Happy were the three weeks that followed. Cornelius had acquired great facility and worked hard; I sat to him nearly all the day long; we rested together, and he then put by his own fatigue to cheer and amuse me. It was to me as if Miriam had never existed. Cornelius by no means forgot her, but even a man in love may think of other things besides his mistress, and a new picture on the easel was the most dangerous rival Miriam could dread in the heart of her betrothed. They wrote to one another daily; every morning Cornelius consecrated a quarter of an hour to love, then devoted himself heart and soul to his task; and I--as sharing in that task--occupied, I believe, a greater share of his thoughts and feelings than even his beautiful mistress.