"William," I began.
"Why speak of him?" he interrupted, with a clouded brow.
"You have accused him; I must justify him, or bear my share of the blame."
"Blame!" sorrowfully echoed Cornelius; "why should I blame you? I was away, and Kate was negligent, and another was there; it was natural, very natural."
Encouraged by the gentleness of his tone, I stooped, and pressing my lips to his cheek, I said, in my most persuasive accents:—
"May I keep my appointment, Cornelius?"
He turned upon me a flushed and troubled face.
"I have heard of strange, tormenting things," he said, between his set teeth; "but I vow I never heard of anything to equal this. My God!" he added, pressing me to him with strange and sudden passion, "what can you want with that young man?"
His look felt like fire; I bowed my face before its wrath. When I spoke, it was to say, in a faltering tone:—
"Cornelius, you are angry again; yet all I want is not to make William wait."