"Bless the child, how coolly she takes it!" exclaimed Kate, half angrily.
"I have no right to take it otherwise, Kate; besides, provided Cornelius comes back to us, what matter?"
"What matter! suppose he has been married all this time, and has a family about him!"
"I don't think Cornelius would marry as if he were ashamed of himself," I replied, rather indignantly; "then how can he have a family in two years? and even if he had—"
"Nonsense, child!" interrupted Kate, impatiently, "I don't speak of it as a fact, and there you go, coolly dissecting every hasty word I utter, as if I were giving evidence before judge and jury!"
"Well, Kate, all I mean to say is this—if Cornelius has a wife and children, where is the harm, provided he does not settle in Italy?"
Miss O'Reilly was of a very different opinion, and, as she seemed inclined to be vexed with me for disagreeing with her, I dropped the subject and proposed a walk. She shortly replied that with an Italian sister-in-law in prospect she did not feel disposed for walking; but that, as the matter did not touch me, I was quite right in not taking it to heart. I did not answer; I did not wish to add to her annoyance by letting her see how bitter was my disappointment at the prolonged absence of Cornelius, and the voluntary obscurity under which he lingered.
The thought kept me awake in bed beyond my usual hour; but at length I slept. I awoke with a sudden start, I myself knew not why; I thought I had heard something in my sleep, what I could not tell. I sat up and listened; yes, there was a sound of voices below in the parlour. I rose and opened my door softly. One of the voices was that of Kate: the other—unheard for two years, but not forgotten?-was that so well known and so dear, of her brother. I did not give myself time for joy; I dressed hurriedly and slipped down. The parlour door stood ajar; I looked in; he sat by Kate, bending over her and embracing her with a fondness which, as I felt, a little jealously, she had not called me down to share. He sat with his back turned to me, and saw me not; the floor was carpeted, my step was always light; I stood by his side ere he was conscious of my presence. I wished to speak, but the words died unuttered on my lips; I remained standing there, mute, motionless, and trembling from head to foot.
"Daisy!" he exclaimed, starting up. His arms were around me—I was gathered to his heart.
"Well!" he said, "what is the matter with you? You do not even give me a kiss. Have I grown strange?"