I could bear no more; every word he uttered pierced mo with a sharper pang. I hid my face in my hand and exclaimed:
"Cornelius, you are too good; I do not deserve this; I have seen William; he has but just left me."
I looked up, he turned rather pale; but never spoke one word.
"You are angry with me," I said.
"Angry with you!" he repeated, smiling sadly, but so kindly, that, impelled by the same sense of refuge which I had so often felt in my childish troubles, I threw my arms around his neck, and exclaimed in a voice broken by tears:
"Oh, Cornelius, I am so wretched."
"I am not angry, indeed I am not," he replied, sighing deeply.
"Oh! it is not that, Cornelius; William is again gone away, and if you knew all—Oh, what shall I do!"
I cried bitterly on his shoulder. He half rose as if to put me away; but he sat down again with fixed brow and compressed lips.
"What shall you do?" he echoed, "what others have done—you shall bear it."