"Child or not, he shan't kiss her," muttered Cornelius. "Nonsense!" "Nonsense! I tell you, Kate, that the child does not like it, nor I either." He spoke sharply. "You do not look as if you did," said the chilling voice of Miriam. She had beheld all that had passed with her usual indifference, and now sat leaning back in the angle of the sofa, looking at us with calm attention. Cornelius turned round and replied quietly-- "You are quite right. Miriam, I do not like it." The entrance of Deborah interrupted the conversation. After tea Cornelius played and sang. Miriam left early. CHAPTER XIV. On the following morning, Kate sent me up my breakfast as usual, and accompanied it with a message that I was not to think of rising before twelve. But I felt strong again; besides I was eager to surprise Cornelius; I hastily donned the ragged attire of the Stolen Child and ran up to the studio. I entered abruptly, then stood still. In the centre of the room stood Miriam, clad in strange attire. A white robe fell to her feet; a blue cashmere scarf was wrapped around her fine person; her fair hair was braided back from her face; her arms, as beautiful as those of an antique statue, were as bare. Cornelius stood looking at her with eager delight, and never noticed my entrance. "I am not sure," he said, "that the costume is correct, but I know I never saw even you look so beautiful!" She smiled, and sank down on the low couch, with negligent grace. One arm fell loosely by her side, the other supported her cheek. "Do not stir," eagerly cried Cornelius: "that is the very attitude! Oh! Miriam, what a glorious picture it will make!" and walking round her, he surveyed her keenly. "You think of nothing but your pictures," she said, impatiently. "Why do you tempt me? Just allow me to move your left arm." With chilling indifference, she passively allowed him to move her beautiful arms at his pleasure. "There!" he said, drawing back, "it is perfect now." "Outstretched! theatrical!" she replied ironically. "Can you mend it?" asked Cornelius, looking piqued. She did not answer, but by just drawing in a little, and bending more forward, she threw into her face, into her look, attitude, and bearing, a strange intensity of eager watchfulness, that made her fixed gaze seem as if piercing the depths of an invisible horizon. Cornelius looked at her with wonder and admiration. "That is indeed Medora," he frankly said at length: "Oh! Miriam, never tell me, after this, you do not care for Art! and now be merciful, let me sketch you thus." "And the stolen child, who is waiting?" she said, glancing at me. "What, Daisy!" he exclaimed, seeing me for the first time. Miriam attempted to rise; he eagerly turned back to her, and entreated her so ardently to remain thus, that she yielded. When he had prevailed, he turned to me. "Daisy," he said gaily, "you are a good little girl, but you may take off your picturesque attire."