"Anything you like; but for the present, pray let me look about." He yielded; but I wished afterwards I had let him have his own way; for as we were leaving the Pantheon, with all its temptations, and I thought all right, Cornelius suddenly took me into a shop, and before I could remonstrate, he had bought me a light blue silk dress, as dear as it was pretty. I left the place much mortified; he saw it, and laughed at me, telling me to take this as a lesson, for that he would not be thwarted. We took a cab and rode home; yet it was dusk when we reached the Grove. A light burned in the drawing-room window. We wondered what company Kate was entertaining; and on going up-stairs, found her sitting with our old friend, Mr. Smalley. We had not seen him since his marriage with Miriam Russell. He was now a widower. He looked paler and thinner than formerly; but as good and gentle as ever. He and Cornelius exchanged a greeting friendly, though rather calm and reserved. With me, Mr. Smalley was more open; but as he held my hand in his, he looked at me, and, smiling, turned to Cornelius. "I should never have known in her the sickly child whom I still remember," he said; "indeed, my friend, your adopted daughter has thriven under your paternal care. Hush, darling!" He was addressing a child of two or three, who clung to him, casting shy looks around the room, and seeming very ready to cry. To pacify her, he sat down again, and took her on his knee. She nestled close to him, and was hushed at once. Mr. Smalley made a little paternal apology. Darling had insisted on coming with him, and as she would not stay with his sister Mary, he had to take her with him wherever he went. "Those young creatures," he added, looking at Cornelius, "twine themselves around our very heart-strings. I know what a truly paternal heart yours is for your adopted daughter." "Ay, ay!" interrupted Cornelius, looking fidgetty, "how is Trim?" "He died a year ago," gravely replied Mr. Smalley. "Ah! my friend, my heart smote me when I heard the tidings. I had always been harsh to Trim, you know." "You harsh to any one!" said Cornelius, smiling. But Mr. Smalley assured him his nature was harsh; though, with the grace of God, he had been able to subdue it a little. Darling, he might add, had been the means of softening many an asperity. He kissed her kindly as he spoke. She was a pale, fair-haired little creature, very like him, and evidently indulged to excess. He was wrapped in her, and when of her own accord, she left him to come to me, he felt so much astonished, that he could speak of nothing else. In her two years' life, Darling had never done such a thing before. Indeed her shyness, he plainly hinted, was alone an insuperable obstacle to a second union. "Mr. Smalley," I said, "Darling has just agreed to stay with me, if you will leave her."