Miriam had left us, and previous to going to bed we sat all three in the parlour by the open window, through which fell on the floor a soft streak of pale moonlight; I had silently resumed my place by Cornelius, who had laid his hand caressingly on my head, when Kate suddenly observed—
"You see the sea-air did not agree with Miss Russell."
"True, and yet she looks so well; more beautiful than ever."
"I suppose you will be able to get on with Medora."
"Not if the paint continues to affect Miriam."
"Perhaps it will not," quietly answered Kate; "it did not give her those dreadful nervous headaches before Daisy went to Miss Clapperton's; she does not seem to have suffered today; ay, ay, Medora will soon be on the easel."
"I don't want her to be," rather hastily replied Cornelius, "I want to go on with my Stolen Child. I was looking at Medora the other day, and, spite of all the labour it cost me, I found something unnatural about it."
"Well, I cannot agree with you there," replied Kate; "I think the way in which Medora's look seems to pierce the horizon for the faintest sign of her lover's ship, is painfully natural."
Cornelius did not answer. There was a change in his face—of what nature no one perhaps could have told; but he suddenly turned to me and said—
"Why did you not bring your books to me this evening? Mind, I will not have more infidelities of that nature."