I hung down my head, and did not answer. The strange unconquerable shyness of childhood was on me, and rendered me tongue-tied. Cornelius gently raised my face, so that it met his look, and smiled at seeing it grow hot and flushed beneath his gaze.
"Do you really want me to take you?" he asked, after a pause.
I looked up quickly; I said nothing; but if childhood has no words to render its feelings, it has eloquent looks easily read. Cornelius was at no loss to understand the meaning of mine.
"Indeed, then, if I can I will," he replied earnestly.
"Oh! we can get out by the back-door," I said, quickly.
"My dear," answered Cornelius, gravely, "never leave a house by the back- door, unless in case of fire; besides, it would look like an elopement. We must speak to Mr. Thornton."
I could not see the necessity of this; but I submitted to his decision, and, taking his hand, I accompanied him downstairs. No stray domestic was visible, not even the little servant appeared. Cornelius looked around him, then resolutely knocked at the door of my grandfather's study. A sharp "Come in!" authorized us to enter. This time Mr. Thornton had exchanged the magnifying glass and the beetle for a pair of compasses and an immense map which covered the whole table. He looked up; and, on perceiving Cornelius, exclaimed, with a ludicrous expression of dismay, "Sir, have you brought me another little girl?"
"No, Sir," replied Cornelius smiling; "this is the same."
"Oh! the same, is it?"
"No; not quite the same," resumed Cornelius; "the child, whom I left here a month ago, is strangely altered; question her yourself, Sir, and ascertain the manner in which, without your wish or knowledge, I feel assured, your grand-daughter has been treated in your house."