"I have forgotten my passport," he said, in a low tone; "it is on the table in the back-parlour. Is she still asleep?"
Before I could reply, the moon, that had kept hid behind a dark cloud, came forth bright and undimmed; her light fell on my face; I saw him start.
"Will you not come in, Cornelius?" I said quietly. But he stood there at the door of his own home, mute and motionless as a statue. "Well then," I continued, "I must go out to you; perhaps before you cross the seas again, standing on the threshold of your dwelling, you will not refuse to grant me what you did not think fit to give me within it—the luxury of a last adieu—of a last embrace!"
I stepped out to him as I spoke; but he made me re-enter the house, and followed me in.
"Daisy," he said, with a sigh, "I wished to leave whilst you were away, and fate brought you back; I stole away whilst you were asleep, and I was compelled to return and find you awake. I thought to spare us both some pain. I cannot; be it so; you shall have your wish."
His voice plainly said: "Your wish, and no more."
"Very well," I replied, quietly; for though I was resolved he should not go, I knew better than to startle him.
We re-entered together the back parlour; Kate had left it; but the lamp still burned on the table. Cornelius sat down by it; his face was pale, watchful, determined. I saw he was fully on his guard, and prepared to resist unflinchingly to the last. I was as determined to insist and prevail. Oh! daily life, that art called tame and reproved as dull, how is it that to me thou hast ever been so full of strange agitating dramas, I sat down by Cornelius; I passed my arm within his, and looking up into his face, I said:
"When, a few hours ago, I felt so glad to see you safe, Cornelius, I knew not I was looking my last for a long time."
He did not answer; I continued: