"The lanes!--you came by the lanes?" cried Cornelius, turning pale: "alone along that desolate road, where a cry for aid never could be heard! Daisy, how dare you do such a thing? How could they allow it?" "Cornelius, who would be out on such a night to harm me? As to daring, I would have dared anything. Mrs. Brand remonstrated, and sent, I believe, a servant after me; but I outstripped him easily. Terror lent me her wings." "I thought you felt no fear?" "No fear of man, but a most sickening cowardly dread of fever. Oh, Cornelius! if I had found you ill, or in danger of death, what should I have done, what would have become of me?" The mere thought was a torment that again sent the freezing blood to my heart. I shivered, and drew close to him. "There! you are quite pale again," said Cornelius, anxiously. "Oh, Daisy! do you then love me so much--so very much?" I looked up, and smiled at the question. But his face was burning, and expressed mingled pleasure, doubt, and pain. "Oh!" he continued, taking my hands in his, and speaking hesitatingly, "what am I to think of the girl who forgets her friend?" "I knew you were vexed and angry about the party," I interrupted. "I saw you." "And then, on the first false alarm, who returns to him so kindly, on a stormy night, by a dreary way, fearless though alone." "Now, Cornelius, what have I done that a good sister, or friend, or daughter, would not do?" Cornelius dropped my hands, and said, abruptly: "Do you not feel chill?" "Not with that fire. Do you know, Cornelius, now I am here again with you and Kate, I don't see why I should go back to Poplar Lodge. Suppose you ask me to stay. Well, what are you doing?" He had stood up, and was pouring out a glass of wine, which he handed to me. "Take it," he said. "To please you, Cornelius: but I do not want it. The sight of your face at the door was more reviving than wine to me." I just tasted the wine, and handed him the glass. He drank off its contents. His hand, in touching mine, had felt feverish, and he looked rather pale. "You are unwell," I said, uneasily. "Unwell!" he echoed, gaily. "I never felt better." He poured himself out another glass of wine, but I took it from him. "You must not!" I exclaimed, imperatively. "Oh, Cornelius! be careful," I added, imploringly. He laughed at my uneasiness; but there was something dreary in the sound of his laughter, which I did not like. "I tell you I am well--quite well," he persisted; "but I feel uneasy about you, Daisy. How this night will fatigue you! I dare not tell you to go to your room, lest it should be too chill; but will you try and sleep here?" "On condition that, when I am asleep, you will go up, and take some rest yourself."