I hoped he would ask me what I wanted with him, but he only replied, very coldly, "I never said the contrary," and he passed by me to enter the studio, where he began seeking for something.
"What have you done with the matchbox?" he at length asked impatiently.
"I never touched it. Cornelius: but if you want anything, you know I can find it for you without a light."
He did not answer, but continued searching up and down. I pressed my services.
"Let me look for it, Cornelius, I do not want a light, you know."
"Thank you," he drily replied, "I have what I want now; but I must request you no longer to meddle with my books. I have just found on the floor the volume I left on the table. It puzzles me to understand what you can want in the studio at this hour."
Thus speaking, he shut the door, locked it, and, putting the key in his pocket, he went downstairs without addressing another word to me. I felt so disconcerted, that every wish for explanation vanished; but even had it remained, the opportunity was not mine. When I followed him downstairs, I found him in the parlour with Kate, who was wondering "where Deborah could be?"
"How is it you said Deborah was in?" asked Cornelius, turning to me.
"I never said so, Cornelius."
"Miss Russell heard you."