"I suppose, Cornelius, you will marry Miss Russell," I observed after awhile.
He smiled again.
"Soon, Cornelius?" He sighed and shook his head.
"Will you still live in this house?"
"Provided Miriam does not think it too small," he replied with a perplexed air, "but by uniting it to the next-door house, it would be quite large enough. Then I could have the upper part of both houses with a sky-light,—much better than a place in town; besides, I shall want her to sit to me—eh, Daisy?"
He turned to me; my face was partly averted from his gaze, or he must have read there the sharp and jealous torment every word he uttered awakened within me. Who was this stranger, that had stepped in between Cornelius and me, whose thought absorbed all his thoughts, whose image effaced every other image, who already made her supposed wishes his law, already snatched from me my most delightful and exclusive privileges? He seemed waiting for a reply; I compelled myself to answer—
"Yes, Cornelius."
"For our gallery, you know," he continued.
I did not reply; I felt sick and faint. He stooped and looked into my face with utter unconsciousness in his.
"How pale you look, my little girl!" he said, with concern; "and you are feverish too. Go up to your room."