"Indeed I have. It would have spoiled my prospects, and though she did not say so, that I am sure was her reason for disappointing me. She shall not again complain of my unreasonable impatience. I am quite resolved not to think of Hymen until, love apart, a woman may take some pride in me."
"They are all alike, all alike," again said Kate; "love for a bit, ambition for life."
Cornelius laughed.
"Miriam would despise me," he observed, "if I could sit down in idleness.
Besides, love is a feeling, not a task: it may pervade a lifetime; I defy
it to fill an entire day without something of weariness creeping in.
There is nothing like work in this world,—nothing, Kate."
"When do you mean to begin?"
"To-morrow, of course."
"What becomes of your letter?"
"I shall write it this evening. And now, Daisy," he added, turning to me, "let us see how you have studied."
I brought my books, and the lessons filled—how pleasantly for me!—the greater part of the evening, which Cornelius closed, as he said, by writing his letter. I was scarcely dressed on the following morning, when his voice summoned me from above. I ran up hastily; he was standing on the landing, at the door of the studio, evidently waiting for me, and evidently too in one of his impatient fits.
"Loiterer!" was his greeting, "after such a sleep as you had yesterday, could you not get up earlier?—two hours of broad daylight actually gone!"