He eluded the reproach by asking me how I had found it out. I could not satisfy him; instinct had guided me more than knowledge; the word Rome, uttered with stifled sigh; an impatient declaration that there was nothing to be done here; a long lingering over old engravings of which the originals were in Italy, were the signs which, often repeated and united to my intimate acquaintance with every change of his face, had showed me the secret thought of his heart.
"You must go at once," resolutely said Kate; "can you be ready next week?"
"I could be ready to-morrow," replied Cornelius, with eyes that lit.
There was a pang which he saw not on his sister's face; my heart fell to see how eager he was to go from us. Unconscious of this he continued—
"The sooner I go the better, is it not, Kate? for then, you know, I shall return the sooner, too."
"Very true," she sighed; and his departure was fixed for the following week.
He was in a fever for the whole of that week. For the first time, he was going to taste liberty: he was young, ardent, restless by nature, quiet by force of circumstances; no wonder the prospect enchanted him. I was in one sense happy to see him happy, but I felt acutely that he was going away from us. He was gay and cheerful, I did not want to sadden him with the sight of a grief I could not help feeling, and I shunned rather than sought his company. Thus, two days before the day fixed for his departure, instead of remaining with him and Kate in the back parlour where they sat talking by the open window, I went out into the garden to indulge in a good fit of crying. In the stillness of the evening I could hear every word of their discourse. Either they did not know this or they forgot it, for after dwelling enthusiastically on his prospects, Cornelius added suddenly—
"How unwell Daisy looks!"
"She is fretting about you. The poor child is fonder of you than ever,
Cornelius."
"Do you think so?" he earnestly replied.