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.

"Nonsense!" she said indignantly, "how dare you think of such a thing? Go to bed directly."

In vain I begged hard to be allowed to sit up until his return; she said she would have no more such looks, and again bade me go to bed. I felt too wretched to scruple at disobeying her. I left the parlour indeed, but instead of going up-stairs to my room, I softly stole out of the house, crossed the garden, and unlocking the back-door I left it ajar, and stepped out to look in the direction along which Cornelius was to come. The night was dark; a keen wind swept down the lonely lane; I drew the skirt of my frock over my head and crouched within the shelter of the neighbouring hedge. There, with my ear bent to catch every sound, I remained for what seemed an age. Once my heart leaped as I heard a distant tread, and fell again when it drew nearer, and I was conscious of a stranger, who, unaware of my presence, passed by me whistling carelessly.

Dismal visions of Cornelius lying bleeding and inanimate in some dreary spot, haunted me until I felt nearly wild with terror and grief; but at once a sudden joy pervaded my being; I heard his quick, light step coming up the lane—I was sure it was he; he was safe—the dark vision fled like an evil spirit put to flight by a good angel. I could have laughed for gladness, I felt so happy. Joy however did not make me forget my disobedience and its probable consequences; I thought to slip in and go up to my room unperceived, but to my dismay I found that the door had closed on me—I was shut out. There was no remedy for it; so I waited until Cornelius came up and rang, then I made a slight noise in the hedge.

"What's that?" he asked sharply.

"Don't be afraid, Cornelius," I replied in a low voice, "it is only me."

"Daisy! What brings you here, child?"

"I felt so miserable at your not returning that I came out here to watch for you. The door shut, so I could not get in when I heard you—don't let Kate scold me, Cornelius."

Before he could reply, the door was opened by Kate herself, a proof that she was not without secret uneasiness. In her haste she had brought no light.

"Is that you?" she said quickly.

"Of course it is, Kate."

"Thank God! I was so uneasy; and there's that foolish Midge, whom I sent to bed an hour ago, and who, I am sure, is still lying awake, listening, poor child! I felt angry with her for being so nervous, and I am as bad myself."

She closed the door as she spoke. I had slipped in unperceived, and I might have escaped detection, for Cornelius did not seem inclined to betray me, when, as we were going up the steps leading to the porch, Deborah suddenly appeared bringing a light; she stared at me as I slunk behind Cornelius; Kate turned round, saw me, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment.

"It is very wrong of her," hastily said Cornelius, "but you must forgive her, Kate. I found her outside the door waiting for me. I suppose she had worked herself into a terror of my being waylaid and assassinated, and scarcely knew what she was about."

"Ah!" replied Kate, and she said no more.

We entered the parlour. Cornelius sat down, made me sit down by him, and chafed my cold hands in his. He chid me rather severely, forbade me ever to do such a thing again, said he was very angry, and ended by taking me in his arms and kissing me. Kate had never uttered one word of reproof, but she looked unusually grave. As I sat by her brother, indulged and caressed, spite of my foolish disobedience, I had an unpleasant consciousness of her look being fastened on us both, and shunned it by keeping mine pertinaciously fixed on the kind face which, as if to efface all memory of the past, now seemed unable to look down at me with anger or displeasure.

"Cornelius!" at length said Kate.

"Well!" he replied, looking from me to her.

"Do you remember the story of Goethe's Mignon?"

Cornelius reddened, turned pale, reddened again, and looked both irritated and ashamed.

"What about it, Kate?" he asked at length.

"Nothing." she quietly replied, "only I think of it now and then."

Cornelius did not reply; but he slowly turned towards me, and as I sat by his side, my two hands clasped on his shoulder and my head resting on them, I saw him give me a look so troubled and so strange, that I could not help asking—

"What is it, Cornelius?"

"Nothing," he replied hastily, "but don't you think you had better go to bed?"

"Well then, good-night, Cornelius;" I attempted to bend his face to mine; he looked annoyed, and averted it impatiently.

"I knew you were vexed with me for having waited for you outside," I observed, feeling ready to cry; "I am sure of it now; that is why you won't kiss me."

Cornelius bit his lip, and, giving my forehead an impatient kiss, said, shortly—

"There, child, are you satisfied?"

"Well, but am I not to kiss you?" I asked in the same tearful tone.

"Please yourself," he replied, resignedly allowing me to embrace him.

"I am sure you are still vexed with me," I said, lingering over the caress as children will, "you speak so sharply, and look so cross." He smiled; his brow smoothed; he looked from me to his sister.

"Oh! Kate," he said, "she is such a mere child," and with a sudden return of kindness he again made me sit down by him.

"Indeed, I am not such a child!" I said, rather piqued, "and you need not make me out such a little girl either, Cornelius, for you are only ten years older than I am."

"Only ten years! Why, my dear, the Roman Lustrum consisted of five years, and the Greek Olympiad of four. So that, if I were a grave Roman, I should twice have offered solemn sacrifices to the Gods, or if I were a sprightly young Greek I should twice, and a little bit over, have distinguished myself in the Olympic Games by chariot-driving, racing, leaping, throwing, wrestling, boxing, and other gentlemanly pastimes,— and all this, Midge, whilst you were still in your cradle! Why, you are a mere baby to me."

"Papa was ten years older than Mamma," I persisted: "was she a mere baby to him?"

"My dear, she was grown up."

"Well then, when I am