"I do not require it," said Mr. Thornton, a little ironically, "I care not a rush on whom the silly thing bestows herself, but I like fair play, and want her to give herself, and not to be given—or taken either. If she runs away without your knowledge, depend upon it I shall not accuse you. I ask you to pledge yourself for yourself—do you object?"
"No, no," I replied eagerly for him, "Cornelius does not object. Bless you, Mr. Thornton, he does not want to give me away. Of course he does not. You don't, Cornelius, do you?" I added, looking up in his face, and passing my arm within his.
My grandfather laughed sarcastically. Cornelius looked exasperated. He seemed to be undergoing a sharp, inward struggle; at length he yielded.
"For her sake, Sir," he said, addressing Mr. Thornton, "and hers alone, I yield; I give you the promise you require. Allow me to add that you either trust me a great deal too much, or far too little."
He spoke with such defiant pride, that I looked half frightened at my grandfather; but he only smiled and rose. I saw he was going, and left Cornelius to bid him adieu.
"Good-bye!" he said, roughly; yet when I passed my arm around his neck, and, for the first time touched his cheek with my lips, he looked more astonished than displeased; but he had so long broken with the charities of life, that to return the embrace probably did not occur to him. All he did was to look from me to Cornelius, and say, with a careless nod:
"She's a pretty little thing," having delivered which opinion, he turned away and left us.
Scarcely had the door closed on him, when Cornelius broke out.
"Oh, Daisy!" he exclaimed, "what have you made me do! And why must I, who hate the mere thought of interference and subjection, thus hold you on the good-will and pleasure of another."
He paced the room with agitated steps. I saw his pride suffered, and following him, I did my best to soothe him; at length I succeeded; he stopped short before me, looked down at me with a smile, and said: