"But what do you want with him?—What can you want with him?" desperately asked Cornelius.
"He was so unreasonable; he said I did not care for him; and indeed, Cornelius, that was a great mistake of his. All I want is to speak to him a few minutes, and make him hear sense."
"Oh, Daisy!" exclaimed Cornelius, with ill repressed anger, "is it possible you do not understand that it is not becoming for a young girl to go and meet a young man in a lonely place?"
"Then forbid me to go!" I exclaimed, eagerly; "forbid me, that I may assure William if I broke my word to him, it was to obey you."
Cornelius turned very pale; he rose, and said, in a moved and broken tone:—
"I am no tyrant. I do not forbid you to go. I claim no control over your feelings or actions. Go, and stay at your pleasure."
Without giving me another look, he turned to his easel. I sat down in the attitude of the young girl reading; but, though every now and then I stole up a look from the open book on mv lap, I never could catch his eye. I felt this keenly; for if there was a thing which Cornelius had of late done more than another, it was to look into my face; and, oh! how kindly he ever looked! At length, I could bear it no longer. I rose, and went up to where he stood painting. He never even glanced around. The calm expostulation with which I had thought to address him, faded from my memory. With involuntary emotion, I sank down at his feet, and, seizing his hand, I exclaimed, with something like passion:—
"Blame me! but look at me, Cornelius; say what you will, but look at me."
"Are you mad?" he cried reddening indignantly and forcibly raising me from the ground. "What do you, what can you mean by kneeling to me? Oh, Daisy!" he added with keen reproach, "I would rather you had struck me than you had done that."
I stood by him silent and ashamed.