"Why have I not a crown to lay it at your feet?" he very gallantly replied, taking my hand, and pressing it gently as he spoke.
At that moment, through the door which Edward Thornton had left partly open, I thought I caught sight of Cornelius for an instant; the next he had disappeared in the crowd. I snatched my hand from my cousin, started up, ran to the door, opened it wide, and looked eagerly; but Cornelius had again vanished. I returned much disappointed to Mr. Thornton, who seemed amazed at my precipitate flight.
"I had seen Mr. O'Reilly," I said, apologetically.
"Mr. O'Reilly! Ah, indeed."
"Yes; and I wanted to speak to him. It was for that I came here, you know."
My cousin gave me a puzzled look, then suddenly recovering, said hastily:
"Of course, it was. Mr. O'Reilly, as you say."
"I am sure, you think it odd," I observed uneasily.
He denied it with a guarded look. I thought it worse than odd, and my eyes filled with involuntary tears. Mr. Thornton rose and sympathised respectfully.
"My dear Miss Burns," he whispered drawing nearer to me, "I am truly grieved; but your kindness, your frank condescension, made me presume— indeed, I am grieved."