I obeyed with deep reluctance; even when I reached the door of the studio, I paused ere I opened it, then stood still and looked.
They had not heard me; how could they?
Miriam, no longer intent on going, had resumed her place; Cornelius sat at her feet, one elbow resting on the edge of the couch, his eyes intently fixed on her face. She bent over him; her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted; one of her hands was buried in her own fair hair which fell loosened on her neck, the other slowly unravelled the dark locks of Cornelius.
"It is not at me, but at Medora, you are looking," she said impatiently.
"Are you jealous of her?"
"Jealous! when I begin it shall be with Daisy."
"Jealous of Daisy! as if you could be!"
And he smiled. I entered; Miriam looked up, saw me, and smiled too; Cornelius turned round and, reddening like a girl—she had not blushed— he rose hastily. I came forward, closed the door, and, as if I had seen, had heard nothing, I sat down and opened my books; but the words of Cornelius, "Jealous of Daisy!" seemed printed on every page; the smile, with which he had uttered and she had heard them, was ever before me. He cared so little for me that I could not be, it seems, an object of jealousy. Miriam staid for about two hours more, then left; scarcely had the door closed on her, when I rose to go: but as I passed by Cornelius, he laid his hand on my shoulder, and arrested me with a reproachful—
"Are you, too, deserting me?"
I stood before him with my books in my hand; I looked up into his face; there were no tears either in my eyes or on my cheek, but he must have seen something there, for, looking surprised—