"No, no, Cornelius," I cried, agitatedly, "I cannot go with you. I, too, have passed my word, and I must keep it—I must keep it; and you must not ask or tempt me to break it—indeed, Cornelius, you must not."
I spoke as I felt, with much distress. Cornelius calmed down at once, and entreated me to be pacified.
"I had forgotten your promise;" he said, "seeing you here, I had but one thought [] to possess and secure that which I had lost. I will submit to Mr. Thornton's conditions, and take you back to him this moment. What more would you have?"
In his earnestness, he again took my hand. My lips parted to thank him, but the entrance of our old servant checked the words. She muttered indistinctly, as was her wont, then kept the door open, and admitted—Mr. Thornton.
For a moment, he stood still on the threshold, and looked confounded.
Neither Cornelius nor I spoke.
"So," he said at length, "I fancy I leave you safe at home writing a letter, and give myself the trouble of coming here to have some private talk with Mr. O'Reilly; and you are actually here before-hand with me."
"I could find no one to send the letter by, Sir," I replied, quite dismayed. "I am sorry if I have done wrong."
"Wrong!" echoed Cornelius, looking displeased, and drawing me towards him as he spoke.
I saw his proud and hasty temper would ruin all; I hastened to interfere.
"I have been speaking to Mr. O'Reilly," I said, quickly, "and he has promised to abide by the conditions. You know, Cornelius, you have promised," I added, turning towards him.