"Yet they look older than you."
"So they are; but, would you believe it? they have never heard of Michael
Angelo or Raffaelle."
"Poor things!" laughed Cornelius, "how do they manage to exist?"
"Indeed I don't know. When I talk to them of painting, Jane says she should like to paint fire-screens, and Fanny says she should not care."
"They are both young Vandals," said Cornelius, "so don't waste your high ideas of Art upon them; they cannot understand anything of the sort, you know. The fact is, there are not many little girls like mine. Oh, Daisy! I don't want to reproach, but how is it that you, who are so good in everything else, have on one point been so perverse?"
I did not answer: if he did not know that my only sin was loving him too much, where was the use to tell him? I asked after Kate; he said she was well, and would come in the afternoon: then we spoke for a few minutes of other things, and he rose to leave me, promising that on his next visit he would give me a long walk.
I thought my heart would fail me at the parting, but his look checked me, and I bore this as I was learning to bear so many things—with the silent endurance that is not always resignation.
The afternoon brought me Kate's promised visit. Almost her first words were—
"So Cornelius has been here! he never told me where he was going off so early. Say he does not care for you, Midge!"
"I don't say so, Kate."