Daisy Burns Volume II Part 23

"It came into my head by chance, and, as one thought leads to another, I thought, if I were going to die, I should ask two things of Cornelius.

That if he married and had daughters, he should call one of them Daisy.

Thus there would ever be something in his home to remind him of me; also to bury me here at Leigh--"

"Daisy, Daisy!" almost angrily interrupted Cornelius, "what do you mean?

I am not going to marry and have daughters; and to think of you as pale and inanimate with the cold earth above you, is a sickening thought."

He looked quite pale. I saw there was a deep and secret fear at his heart, and indeed he showed it sufficiently; for as the day advanced and my headache still continued to trouble me, he insisted, spite of my entreaties and those of Kate, on going himself for a physician who resided several miles off. I was touched to the heart by this proof of a love so vigilant.

"How kind he is," I said to Kate.

"Kind! why surely child, you can see that he doats on you! Is he not making a fool of himself, just because your head aches? Would he not go distracted if anything were to happen to you? Oh, Midge! Midge!" she added, with a half-stifled sigh, "don't you see you are the apple of his eye?"

As the heat of the day subsided, I felt suddenly better. The fresh sea- breeze could only do me good, so I went and sat on the bench at the end of the garden, there to watch for the return of Cornelius whose road home lay along the wide sweep of beach beneath me. For a long time I watched in vain; at length I perceived a man's form slowly descending the cliffs; I hastened in for my bonnet and scarf, and merely saying to Kate:

"I see him coming," as I pa.s.sed the parlour door, I was gone before she could open her lips to object. When I reached the sands, I looked in vain for Cornelius. I walked on, thinking he had seen me coming and stood concealed in a cleft of the rocks, but my look searched every one of their dark recesses, and nowhere could discover a token of his presence.

It was late, though the singular clearness of the air which prevails by the sea-side, gave more light than belonged to the hour. I resolved to go no further, but to give one more look and return. I climbed up a heap of fallen rocks, and slowly began to scan the whole coast; it looked silent and lonely in the pale light of a rising moon. I was preparing to descend from my post of observation, when I started to perceive a shadow near mine. I looked up and saw William Murray.

"William!" I exclaimed, delighted, "William Murray! Oh, how glad I am to see you again."

He did not speak, but he took and held both my hands in his, and pressed them warmly, looking down at me with a happy, smiling face.

"G.o.d bless you!" he said, "G.o.d bless you, Daisy! I thought I should never see you again."

"Why so, William?" I asked, sitting down on a rock and making him sit down by me.

He hesitated as he replied:

"Don't you know?"

"O, William, what is it? You make my heart beat."

"Why we have been wrecked in the Mediterranean. I am sorry to tell you so abruptly; I thought you knew."

He was safe before me; but we feel even the past perils of those we love.

I felt myself turning faint and pale. William seemed much moved; he a.s.sured me that the danger had not been so very great, though in the hour of peril he had indeed thought of me as of one he should see no more.

"Oh, William!" I said, looking up, and allowing him again to take my hands in his, "will you not leave that perilous life, and that dangerous sea?"

"I cannot, Daisy; why I am only here for two days; I shall not see much of you before I am off again."

"For long?"

"A year," he replied, sighing.

"How long have you been back?"

"Two hours."

"Why did you not come to me at once?"

"Why did I wander up and down here, but to get a sight of you?"

"Then it was you I took for Cornelius. You know he is come back. Oh, William! you must call on us and see him. How much you will like him!"

"And how fond you are of him, Daisy, said William, in a low tone.

"Why, of course, I am; and he deserves it."

"Ay, that he does," he warmly replied. "You know, Daisy, I always said he was a good man."

"He is a good man, for he does good actions, and never seems to know it.

He is a great man--for he has genius, which is a great gift; and," I added, with a smile, "he is a handsome man, too, William."

"There are some very fine men amongst those Irish," gravely replied William; "and they wear well too. There's our captain--Captain MacMahon-- who is upwards of fifty, but the most splendid fellow I ever saw--six foot six: then such shoulders and such lungs. He does not roar like Johnstone, or scream like Philipps; but he just opens his mouth, and lets his voice out as it were. Then his fists--you should see his fists, Daisy!"

I was much amused, and replied:

"I fear Cornelius is not quite equal to Captain MacMahon, yet I think you will like him, William."

"This is the second time you say so."

"Because I know it--just as I know that he will be delighted with you."

William gave me a look, half shy, half pleased, and muttered something that sounded very like:

"Did _I_ care for him?"

"No," I replied, amused at the question, "not at all. How can I care for a friend who leaves me to go and get wrecked?"

"Not at all, Daisy," he echoed; "not at all."

He stooped, and looked very eagerly into my face. I drew back with a laugh that was checked by a voice observing behind me:

"Daisy, what are you doing here at this hour?"

I turned round--it was Cornelius. The moonlight fell full on his pale and angry face. I rose, without answering; 1 felt--and, no doubt, I looked-- like a culprit. He gave me a glance in which sadness and severity blended: then, as it taking pity on my confusion, he silently held out his arm to me. As I took it, I attempted a justification, and said:

"I took William for you, Cornelius, and came out to meet you. He is Miss Murray's nephew, you know, and I had not seen him for months. Did you come for me from home? I am sorry--very sorry, Cornelius."

I sought his look, but vainly; it was fastened on William, who had risen, and now stood before us. Cornelius eyed him from head to foot, with a keen and scrutinising gaze, which the young man returned. Neither spoke-- there was an evident want of cordiality in the silent glances they exchanged. I began to feel uncomfortable; my sense of uneasiness increased when Cornelius turned towards me, and said coldly:

"I am sorry to hurry you away, Daisy, but Kate is very anxious."

And without taking the least notice of William, or seeming to think that I could have another word to say to him, he made me turn homewards. I felt so disconcerted at his displeasure, that I neither opened my lips, nor attempted to resist; but, when we had walked on together for a few minute, I gathered courage to say:

"I must go back to bid him good evening, Cornelius."

I disengaged my arm from his, and lightly ran back to the spot where we had left William, and where he still stood looking after us with folded arms.