"I did not think your feelings were so deeply engaged, or I should never have put you to such a test. Come, do not weep; your time for tears is past; see your friend as much as you like, and let your pale, unhappy face reproach me no more that, unable to render you happy myself, I would not let another do it." I could bear no more; every word he uttered pierced mo with a sharper pang. I hid my face in my hand and exclaimed: "Cornelius, you are too good; I do not deserve this; I have seen William; he has but just left me." I looked up, he turned rather pale; but never spoke one word. "You are angry with me," I said. "Angry with you!" he repeated, smiling sadly, but so kindly, that, impelled by the same sense of refuge which I had so often felt in my childish troubles, I threw my arms around his neck, and exclaimed in a voice broken by tears: "Oh, Cornelius, I am so wretched." "I am not angry, indeed I am not," he replied, sighing deeply. "Oh! it is not that, Cornelius; William is again gone away, and if you knew all--Oh, what shall I do!" I cried bitterly on his shoulder. He half rose as if to put me away; but he sat down again with fixed brow and compressed lips. "What shall you do?" he echoed, "what others have done--you shall bear it." I looked up, amazed at the stern bitterness of his tone, at the cold and inexorable meaning of his face, which had turned of a sallow paleness. "But Cornelius," I exclaimed, much hurt, "I like him--" "I don't believe it," he interrupted, biting his lip. "It is a dream--a fancy--the dream of a girl, of a mere child; all girls think they are in love; you have done like the rest." I felt a burning blush overspread my face; my look sank beneath his; the hand which he had taken and still held, trembled in his; he dropped it and said: "And is this the end of it all, Daisy? and do you really like that rough sailor, a mere boy too? Oh, Daisy!" I conquered my scruples and my shame. "Cornelius." I said, looking up at him, "I must speak to you openly once for all. I wanted to do so yesterday; you would not hear me then; pray hear me now." "Why so?" he replied, with evident pain, "I know enough, more than enough." "You do not know all." "Then I can guess." "No, I do not think you can." "Well then, speak, Daisy, and do not linger." "William, as I told you, has not long left me; he came to bid me good- bye, and also--but I must begin from the beginning." "What else was it that he came for?" asked Cornelius. "Let me first tell you the rest." "Never mind the rest. What else did he call for?" "I must go on my own way. I want you to judge of my conduct, as well as to know the issue. Do you remember yesterday all I told you concerning my acquaintance with William?" "Every word." "You are sure you have forgotten nothing?" "Daisy," he exclaimed vehemently, "will you never tell me what he came for?" His look, his tone, commanded a reply.