But in vain. I looked up into his face; he did not kiss me; he did not call me his pet; his lips never parted to say, "Yes, by all means!" His head was sunk on his bosom; his arms were folded; his downcast look never sought mine. I left my place by him to sit down at his feet and see him better. I read sorrow on his face, great sorrow, but no change of purpose. I took one of his hands in mine, and gazing at him through gathering tears: "Cornelius," I said, "are you still going?" He did not reply. "Are you still going?" I asked, laying my head on his knee. He remained silent. "Are you still going?" I persisted, rising as I spoke, and pressing my lips to his cheek. He never moved; he never answered. The blood rushed to my heart with passionate force. I threw back rather than dropped his hand; I stepped away from him with wounded and indignant pride. "Go then!" I exclaimed, with angry tears, "go, here is your passport; take it and with it take back your broken promise and friendship betrayed." "Betrayed!" he echoed, looking up. "Yes, betrayed; I do not retract the word. Want of confidence is treason in friendship, and you have had no confidence in me--why in this house, where as a child I had obeyed you, and could have obeyed you all my life, why did you of your own accord raise me to an equality which was my boast and my pride, when in your heart you meant to treat me as a child to be cheated into a parting? You gave me an empty name; I will have the reality or I will have nothing, Cornelius." I turned away from him as I spoke; he rose and followed me. "Daisy," he said, "what do you mean?" I looked round at him over my shoulder, and replied, reproachfully: "I mean that you do not care for me." "I do not care for you!" "No; you have secrets from me; William never had any secrets; he liked me more than you do, Cornelius." An expression of so much pain passed across his face, that I repented at once. "You cannot believe that?" he replied at length; "you would not say it if you were not very angry with me, Daisy, and yet you know, oh! you know well enough I cannot bear your anger." "Can't you bear it, Cornelius?" I answered turning round to face him, "then don't go; for if you do, I shall be so angry--indeed, you can have no idea of it!" "None, whilst you speak and look so very unlike anger. Oh, Daisy! which is easier: to part from you in wrath or in peace?" "Why part at all? why go?" I replied passing my arm within his, and looking up at his bending face in which I read signs of yielding. "Why remain?" "Because I wish it," I said, making him sit down. "Is that a reason?" "The best of all--for it will make you stay." He did not say yes; but then, he did not say no. "Stay! stay!" he repeated with an impatient sigh. "What for? You do not want me." "Indeed, I do," I replied, triumphantly, "I want you much, very much, just now." "What for?" "To advise me about Mr. Thornton."