Cornelius had, as I said, recovered his serenity, but he was not what he once had been. A boyish lightness of temper had deserted him—his early faith was shaken, and he looked on life a sadder and a wiser man. To his sister he was the same as before; to me far kinder. He loved me all the more for having been to him the cause of so much trouble: a less generous mind and heart could not have forgiven me the mistakes into which I had made him fall, and the disadvantageous position in which I had placed him; both rendered me more dear to Cornelius. The only allusion he made to the past, was to say to me one wintry evening, as, the lessons over, we sat together by the fire-side—
"I think you are happy now, Daisy."
"Yes, Cornelius," I replied, a little moved, "very happy."
"That's right," he said, and rose.
"You are going out," observed Kate, anxiously.
"Yes; shall be in at nine."
"Come back by the Grove."
"Why so?"
"The lanes are not safe."
He laughed, said there was no fear, and left us. I saw him go with a sinking heart. The road by which he meant to return was lonely and had witnessed several recent cases of highway robbery. The evening passed quietly; but nine struck and Cornelius came not back. I gave Kate a terrified look.