morning stirred the white muslin curtains, and early dawn was blushing in the grey sky. Cornelius drew me to that dim light, and gazed at me silently. "How long have you been there?" he asked. "Since two; I felt too sleepy to sit up in my own room, and I was so afraid you might go whilst I slept." "Since two--and it is four! You foolish child! If I wanted to go quietly, it was only to spare your little heart some grief, and your poor eyes some tears." "Cornelius, I shall not cry now. I shall wait until you are gone for that." Attracted by the sound of our voices, Kate now opened her room door. "Daisy?" she exclaimed. "Yes," replied her brother, "Daisy, who has been sleeping at my door like a faithful watcher. Oh! Kate, you'll take care of her whilst I am away?" "Yes, yes, of course; but don't stand losing your time there. Come down." We went downstairs. Cornelius took a hasty meal; then a cab stopped at the door; his luggage was removed to it, and he stood ready to depart. His sister was to go with him to the station. They thought it better for me to stay behind, and I submitted. I kept my word--I did not cry--I went through the parting courageously. Cornelius seemed much moved. He took me in his arms, and repeatedly he embraced me, repeatedly he pressed me to his heart. He exhorted me to persevere in my studies, to be good and dutiful to Kate. Then he promised to write to me, called me his child, his dear adopted daughter, gave me another kiss, put me away, and departed. I saw him go, I heard the cab rolling down the street, not without sorrow, but without bitterness. To be separated from him was hard, no doubt, but to part with the consciousness of so much affection on his side, with the prospect of a happy re-union, with the conviction that his absence was to open to him a career of fortune and renown, was not a thing that could not be borne. I wept heartily, but I was not unhappy. In two hours Kate returned; she entered the parlour, sat down, took off her bonnet, and began to cry. "Well," she said, "he has his wish--he is gone--and how glad, how eager he was to go! Poor boy, he has had a dull, imprisoned life, and liberty is sweet. Besides, it is in their nature; they like to rove, every one of them; they like to rove, and once they are off, mother, sister, or wife may wait." She cried again, but there never was a more firm, more cheerful nature. She soon checked her tears, to say, with a sigh,-- "Now Midge, you must help me, for there is a wonderful deal to do. Well, child, don't open your eyes. I forgot I had not told you--we are going to leave." "To leave!" "Yes, my child, we must. I had money by me, to be sure; but not enough, and I was not going to let Cornelius travel otherwise than as an Irish gentleman, so I borrowed at interest. He will want for nothing, that is one comfort; but we must pinch, Daisy, and to begin I have let the house