Daisy Burns Volume II Part 4

"You must go at once," resolutely said Kate; "can you be ready next week?"

"I could be ready to-morrow," replied Cornelius, with eyes that lit.

There was a pang which he saw not on his sister's face; my heart fell to see how eager he was to go from us. Unconscious of this he continued--

"The sooner I go the better, is it not, Kate? for then, you know, I shall return the sooner, too."

"Very true," she sighed; and his departure was fixed for the following week.

He was in a fever for the whole of that week. For the first time, he was going to taste liberty: he was young, ardent, restless by nature, quiet by force of circ.u.mstances; no wonder the prospect enchanted him. I was in one sense happy to see him happy, but I felt acutely that he was going away from us. He was gay and cheerful, I did not want to sadden him with the sight of a grief I could not help feeling, and I shunned rather than sought his company. Thus, two days before the day fixed for his departure, instead of remaining with him and Kate in the back parlour where they sat talking by the open window, I went out into the garden to indulge in a good fit of crying. In the stillness of the evening I could hear every word of their discourse. Either they did not know this or they forgot it, for after dwelling enthusiastically on his prospects, Cornelius added suddenly--

"How unwell Daisy looks!"

"She is fretting about you. The poor child is fonder of you than ever, Cornelius."

"Do you think so?" he earnestly replied.

"Of course I do. She frets, tries to hide it, and cannot; and you know, Cornelius, it is only beauty looks lovely in tears."

"She is not a beauty, but she has fine eyes."

"Spite of which you cannot call her pretty, Cornelius."

He sighed and did not contradict it.

"I know you did not think so," continued Kate.

"Oh! Kate!" he interrupted with another sigh, "why, any one can see the poor child is only getting plainer as she grows up!"

"Never mind," cheerfully said Kate.

"But she may mind, and she will mind too. If the women slight and the men neglect her, how can she but mind it?"

"The plain have a happiness of their own," quietly replied Kate. "G.o.d looks kindly on them and they learn to despise the rude harshness of the world." With this she began talking to Cornelius of his journey.

I was then near fifteen. I remember myself well,--a thin, slim girl, awkward, miserably shy and nervous, with sunken eyes, a face more sallow than ever, and hair scarcely darker in hue than when Miriam Russell had aptly called it straw-coloured. I knew my own disadvantages quiet well, I was accustomed to them, and though I quailed a little when I heard Cornelius and Kate thus settle the delicate question of my looks, it was only for awhile. It is true that the taunts of Miriam had formerly exasperated me, because it was by her beauty that she had conquered and replaced me in the heart of Cornelius; but with her power vanished the sting of my plainness. The little emotion I felt was over when Cornelius stepped out into the garden to indulge in a cigar.

On seeing me, he looked much disconcerted. I daresay he thought I must be cut to the quick by what I had heard; for though he did not allude to it, he sat down on the wooden bench, made me sit by him, and was so unusually kind that I could not help being a little amused. I allowed myself to be petted for awhile, then I looked up at him and said, smiling--

"As if I minded it, Cornelius! As if I did not know that though I should grow ever so plain, you would still like me! As if I could think it would make any difference to you!"

He muttered, "Oh! of course not!" I continued--

"Kate says you are handsome, and I dare say you are; but if you had lost one eye, or had a great ugly scar across your face, or were disfigured in some dreadful way, it would make no difference to me, Cornelius."

He smiled, without replying: I resumed--

"Therefore, Cornelius, that does not trouble me much, but something else which Kate said does trouble me."

I paused, and looked at him; he seemed a little disturbed.

"What are you talking of, child?" he said; "what do you mean?"

"Kate said I was fonder of you than ever, Cornelius; it is true, very true, I love you more as I grow up, because I know your goodness better; but then something which you might conclude from that, Cornelius, is not true."

I looked up at him very earnestly.

"Child!" he said, astonished; "what are you talking and thinking of?"

"I am thinking, Cornelius, of a thing I have thought of for a year and more. I often wanted to tell you, but I never dared; I should like to tell you now, Cornelius, only I don't know how."

Cornelius looked perplexed.

"I would gladly help you," he observed, "if I only knew what it was about."

I could not help reddening.

"Suppose," he said hastily, "you write it to me when I am in Italy--eh, Daisy?"

"I would rather say it than write it, Cornelius."

"Then say it, child."

"Well, then, Cornelius," I replied, a little desperately, "I will never be jealous of you again--there!"

"There!" he echoed, smiling, "is that the mighty secret?"

"Yes, Cornelius, that is it," I replied, with a beating heart.

"My good little girl," he said kindly, "I am glad you have such good resolves; but I must set you right. You talk of not being jealous any more, as you would talk of taking off a dress and never putting it on again."

"And should I, Cornelius, if it were old and worn out?"

"But is this one worn out?"

"I hope so. I think so."

"I hope so too."

But I could see he did not think it. I was anxious to convince him, and resumed--

"Cornelius, do you remember how insolent I was when papa lived?--how rude I showed myself to you when you came to see him?--how over-bearing to the servants?"

"You were a spoiled child, certainly; but you have got over that."

"I think I have, Cornelius. When I came here, I was rude to Deborah, who was good enough to bear with it for a long time; but one day Kate heard me, and she told me she thought it very mean and ungenerous to be rude to servants. She said she would not enjoin on me to apologize to Deborah; but she hoped that, for my own sake, I would do so. The next day I went down into the kitchen, and asked Deborah to forgive me."

"How did you like that?" asked Cornelius giving me a curious look.