"The law does not recognise Mr. O'Reilly," composedly answered Mr. Thornton; "he is nothing to you, not even your guardian. I am your grandfather; and the law," he added, giving me an emphatic look, "recognizes me and my power until you are of age." He seemed to think this sufficient, and again bent over his book. His last words had sunk on my heart like lead. Was it true? could it be true? Did the law give so much power to Mr. Thornton? and, provided he did not ill-use me, would it make me for four years the captive of his pleasure? Could Cornelius really deliver me from this bondage, or, as I began to fear, had he deceived himself, and deceived me? I repented having spoken so openly to Mr. Thornton: and hoping to repair this error, and conciliate him by a more submissive behaviour, I lingered in the study, and took up one of the dusty old volumes scattered everywhere around me. It was a Latin work, but an English treatise on mineralogy had been bound up with it; and this I began reading, or rather I attempted to read. My eyes ever kept wandering from the page down the avenue before me. From its direction, I was sure it led to that quiet stream by which Cornelius and I had sat that same day. In thought I leave the room, hurry down the avenue; the stream is crossed. I follow silent lanes, and traverse lonely fields; a quiet path brings me to Rock Cottage; the garden gate is open; the door stands ajar; I look in; Cornelius is sitting with his back turned to me; I utter his name; he looks round. The sound of the key turning in the lock, woke me from my happy dream. I looked up; Mr. Thornton's chair was vacant; I ran to the door; it resisted my efforts; my grandfather, forgetting, I suppose, my presence, had locked me in. I looked for means of egress, and saw none but the window. I remained patient for about a quarter of an hour; but perceiving that Mr. Thornton did not return, and, from the fact of being shut in, feeling of course the most eager desire to get out, I opened the window, and stepping on the sill, prepared to jump down; it was higher from the ground than I had expected; I looked and hesitated a little. "Allow me to assist you," said a very pleasant voice. I looked round, and saw standing by the window a handsome, gentlemanly man of thirty-five or thereabouts. He had light brown hair, a delicate moustache of the same hue, very fine blue eyes, and a classical profile. As he stood before me, politely offering me his hand to assist my descent, yet scarcely able to repress a smile at my predicament, I fancied I recognized in him the "young Mr. Thornton" I had formerly mistaken for Cornelius. I could not retreat; it would have looked foolish to refuse; so I accepted his assistance, and, as I alighted, said explanatorily: "My grandfather, I mean Mr. Thornton, had forgotten I was there, and locked me in." "Miss Burns!" he said smiling, "I guessed as much."