When Cornelius knocked at the door, I seemed to expect that the little servant would again open and attempt to oppose our entrance; but, in her stead, a tall, straight housemaid appeared in the gloomy aperture; and, on hearing the name of Cornelius, showed us at once into the same room where, seven years before, we had been ushered by her predecessor. And there, too, surrounded by his books, his papers, maps, globes, stuffed animals, insects, geological specimens, shells, and scientific instruments, we found my grandfather, seated in his arm-chair and unchanged, save for a few more wrinkles. Mr. Thornton received us with abrupt courtesy. When the preliminary greetings had been exchanged, he gave me a sharp look, and startled me with the remark addressed to Cornelius-- "They are not at all alike." Implying, I supposed, that my former and my present self were two individuals. "Not at all," replied Cornelius, who had the faculty of entering at once into the peculiarities of those with whom he conversed. "Of course you are sure it is the right one," suggested Mr. Thornton. "Quite sure." "She has grown," was the next observation of my grandfather; as if the fact astonished him. Cornelius did not answer. My heart sank to see him rise; he laid his hand on my arm, and said gravely-- "Sir, four years ago, I pledged my word that whenever you wished for this young girl, you should have her. Here she is. I have kept my word." "And mean to keep it still?" hinted Mr. Thornton, darting a quick and piercing look from me to him. Cornelius reddened, and replied shortly-- "It is kept, Sir." "And the future may shift for itself. Humph! Well, I suppose you are glad enough to be rid of her! I remember you found her in the way four years ago. So, fancying she would still be more inconvenient as she grew up, I thought I would relieve you from her altogether." He spoke with ironical politeness. Cornelius gave him a defiant look-- which Mr. Thornton received with evident amusement--then he turned to me, glanced at me significantly, pressed my hand, bade me a quiet adieu, bowed haughtily to my grandfather, and was gone. I felt confident that this parting was but to lead to a pleasanter reunion, and yet life is so uncertain--its unhappy chances so often outweigh the more fortunate, that I grew sad, spite of all my confident hopes. "Humph!" said Mr. Thornton, looking at me from under his shaggy eyebrows. "Don't you want to go up to your room?" he added, abruptly. "I should like it," I replied, not much pleased with his manner. He rang. A tall, straight housemaid appeared. "Marks!" said Mr. Thornton, briefly. "Please, Sir!" "Mrs. Marks, you fool! Well, why do you stare?" "I want to know what about Mrs. Marks, Sir." "Tell her to come, of course." The girl never moved. He asked, impatiently: "What are you waiting for, creature?" "Please, Sir, Mrs. Marks will not come." "She will not come!"