Daisy Burns Volume II Part 9

"Nonsense!" she replied, looking provoked.

"Indeed, I am his adopted daughter," I said eagerly.

"I never yet heard that a man of twenty-six or so had a daughter near seventeen," was her ironical reply.

Cornelius smiled; but I warmly vindicated our relationship.

"I am very glad he is so young," I observed. "Most girls have old fathers; mine is not old; he will live the longer."

Cornelius laughed; his sister said "Pish!" and Jane, by bringing in the supper-tray, closed the conversation. Indeed our discourse was of the most desultory kind. Although Cornelius protested that he was not in the least fatigued, having rested in London before coming to us, Kate would not hear of our sitting up. She made me leave him just as I was beginning to talk to him of his painting. To comfort me she confidently informed me as we went upstairs, that a large wooden case in the back parlour contained his pictures; to this intelligence she added, with a significant look--

"He has not got entangled after all."

CHAPTER IV.

We were not prepared for the sudden return of Cornelius; his room was neither aired nor ready; Miss O'Reilly accordingly gave him up her own apartment, and slept with me. She complained of my restlessness; well she might! tossed on a sea of unquiet joy, I scarcely slept. I woke and rose early. The morning was bright and gay, and my little room overflowed with sunshine.

"Now, Daisy," said Kate, in a tone of remonstrance, "you need not be in such a hurry: he is not awake yet, child!"

I was opening the window as she spoke. I drew back quickly, for it looked on the garden; I was but half-dressed, and, though I saw no one, the fresh breeze brought me the scent of a cigar. My heart leaped with joy, and something seemed to say within me, "Yes, yes, he is come back."

"Not awake!" I exclaimed aloud, "why he is already in the garden! Oh!

Kate, do help me to fasten on my dress."

"Not that dingy, everyday grey thing!" decisively said Miss O'Reilly, "he hates dull colours."

She went to my drawers, and drew forth a light blue muslin.

"But it has short sleeves!" I observed, a little uneasily, "and it looks so dressy!"

"Never mind the short sleeves or the dressiness either--the chief thing is, not to annoy him with an ugly colour he cannot endure."

I yielded against my own wish and judgment; partly to gratify her, and still more to lose no time. I gained nothing by the ready compliance.

Miss O'Reilly dressed me as she had never dressed me before; she suggested or rejected improvements with unusual and irritating fastidiousness. Now a snow-white habit-shirt "would look so nice, or if my hair were braided, instead of being in plain bands, it would become me so much better."

I could not help crying.

"Oh, Kate, if you would only let me go! What will Cornelius care about all this?"

"But I care," replied Miss O'Reilly. "I thought Cornelius would find you so much improved; but all he noticed was that you had grown."

"Because that is all!" I said, laughing.

"It is not. But last night you were pale and wild-looking; besides, you had that ugly grey thing on; but now, Midge, let me tell you there is a difference."

She was holding me out at arm's length, with a satisfied look and smile.

"There!" she said, dropping my hand, and releasing me, "you may go now."

I waited for no second bidding. I ran down the stairs, then up the gravel path that led to the pine-trees. The scent of the cigar had not deceived me: he stood leaning against the trunk of the farthest pine, looking at the fresh sparkling sea that spread beneath, and went far away to meet a white line of horizon arched over by a sky of brightest blue. He turned round as I reached him all out of breath, and welcomed me with a smile. I stood by him, looking at him with the delighted eyes with which we gaze at those we love. He laid his hand on my shoulder, and looked at me too, silently at first, then all at once he said--

"G.o.d bless your pleasant face!" and stooping, kissed my brow.

My heart beat a little; I could not help being glad. There was nothing in me beyond what there is in every girl from fifteen to twenty; but then this is the golden age of woman, when the youthful grace of the outlines makes the gazer forget their irregularity, and seeing the cheek so fresh and clear, he asks not whether it be dark or fair--when he is charmed by the sense of a being who has not dwelt on earth too long, and gives pleasant welcome to this late arrived guest.

Our first greeting over, Cornelius and I sat down on the wooden bench.

The wind came from the west. It blew fresh in our faces, and bowed over us the pine-trees and their rustling branches, through which the slanting rays of the sun behind came warm and pleasant. Our glance rested on a sweep of winding sh.o.r.e, half veiled in light sparkling mists; on that sea which looked so serene, and yet seemed so living and so free in its very repose. Our ear was greeted by the low dash of waves on the beach below, by the murmurs of a breeze that died away far inland amongst low hills and lonely places, and looking up at one another with a smile, we both said what a lovely morning it was. I pa.s.sed my arm within that of Cornelius, and clasping both my hands over it, I looked up into his face and began a series of questions.

"Tell me all about your pictures and your painting."

A light cloud pa.s.sed over his brow, as he replied--

"Never mind about the pictures just now, Daisy."

"Well, then," I said, though a little disappointed, "tell me all about Italy."

"All about it--there's a modest request!"

"Well, then, tell me something. Are the Italian women so handsome?"

"Some are, some are not."

His tone and manner were abstracted. I could not but notice that he was surveying me from head to foot.

"What else?" I asked, a little impatiently.

"What else?" he echoed, still looking at me.

"Yes, what else?"

"Nothing else; save that I am thinking of something else just now."

"I knew you would notice it," I exclaimed, feeling myself reddening; "I told Kate so."

"Indeed?"

"Yes; it was her doing, not mine. She said you hated grey, and made me put on this blue muslin, though it looks so gay for the morning."

"Well," replied Cornelius, with a smile, "blue is as charming a colour as grey is cold and dull to the eye. But to tell you the truth, I was not thinking about your dress."

"Ah!" I said, rather abashed.

"No,--I was thinking of the change two years have wrought, and wondering I never noticed it last night. The other one was a pale, sickly little thing, a poor wee Daisy, coming up weak and stunted on the outskirts of the town; this one is fresh and fair as any wild flower that grows. Why, where did she, once so wan and sallow, get that clear, rosy freshness?

What kind fairy has changed the pale yellow hair I still remember, into those heavy tresses of rich brown, tinged with gold--a hue both exquisite and rare, which I shall a.s.suredly transfer to my next picture. As for the eyes, she could not improve them,--so she left them what they still are-- the finest I have ever seen."