Kate sighed, and laying her hand on my shoulder, she looked down at me compassionately.
"Go to bed, child," she said kindly.
I did not ask better. She kissed me, and again said I was very pale; her brother never raised his eyes from his book. I thought him unkind and myself ill-used. I was proud, even with him; I left the room without bidding him good-night, and went to bed without seeking a reconciliation.
I awoke the next morning in a miserable, unhappy mood. Kate noticed my downcast looks and sullen replies at breakfast, and said, rather sharply—
"I should like to know what is the matter with you, child."
I did not answer, but looked sulkily down at my cup; when I chanced to raise my eyes, they met the gaze of Cornelius fastened intently on my face. I felt my colour come and go. With a sense of pain I averted my look from his. Immediately after breakfast, and without asking me to accompany him, he went up to his studio; he had not been there long, and I was still listening to the lecture of Kate, who reproved me for being so ill-tempered, when we heard the voice of her brother, calling out from above in a tone that sounded strange—
"Daisy!"
I obeyed the summons. Cornelius stood on the landing waiting for me. He made me enter the studio, then followed me in and closed the door. I looked at him and stood still; his brow was pale and contracted; his brown eyes, so pleasant and good-humoured, burned with a lurid light; his lips were white and thin, and quivered slightly. Never had I seen him so. He took me by the hand—he led me to his easel.
"Look!" he said, in a low tone.
But I could not take my eyes from his face.