Julia Kavanagh

“ He often spoke of it to me. 'Cornelius, never rob a man of his child,' he said, 'it is a great sin.' He was right, Daisy; it is a great sin; I felt it then; I feel it far more now; for though you are not my child, I have reared you, and I know that affection is jealous; that to resign a daughter to a stranger, must always be bitter, but that to have her actually stolen from you; to be robbed of the pleasant thing which has for years been your delight and pride, to feel that it is gone beyond recall, the property of another, I know that this is too sharp a pang for speech, almost for thought. ”

“ If I were a man, I would rather be a shoemaker or a tailor, than an artist without faith."
"On my word," said Cornelius, looking very angry, "you do speak strongly."
"Because I have faith in you," I replied, passing my arm around his neck, and looking into his averted face. "Call the picture bad, but do not say you have no genius. It cuts me to the heart, indeed it does. Besides, I cannot believe it. I never look at your face, but I seem to see the word 'Genius' written there."
And, as I spoke, I laid my lips on a brow where eyes less prejudiced than mine might have read the same story. ”

“ Mrs. Brand remonstrated, and sent, I believe, a servant after me; but I outstripped him easily. Terror lent me her wings."
"I thought you felt no fear?"
"No fear of man, but a most sickening cowardly dread of fever. Oh, Cornelius! if I had found you ill, or in danger of death, what should I have done, what would have become of me?"
The mere thought was a torment that again sent the freezing blood to my heart. I shivered, and drew close to him.
"There! you are quite pale again," said Cornelius, anxiously. "Oh, Daisy! do you then love me so much—so very much?" ”

“ Kate quietly stepped up to us.
"The knot that will not be unravelled must be cut," she said. "He will stay, Daisy, if you will be his wife."
The words seemed sent, like a quivering arrow, through my very heart. Cornelius looked confounded at his sister, who only smiled; then he turned to me, flushed and ardent. As I stood before him, my hands still grasped in his—his face still bent over mine, half upraised—his look, overflowing with passion, reproach, love, anger, and tenderness, sank deep into mine, with a meaning that overpowered me. ”

“ I asked, thinking the cloud was beginning to break.
"No, Daisy. It is the old story; something within me to which, do what I will, I cannot give birth; it is this torments me, Daisy, it is this."
"And let it be this," I replied gravely; "let it be this, Cornelius, you will be better than your pictures: if you were not, if you could give all to art, would art be any longer worth living for? Where would be the mystery, the desire, the hope, the charm, to lure you on for ever. ”

“ I am afraid I have no feeling, for when I look at Mary
Stuart I feel as if I did not care whether they put her to death or not."
"How hard-hearted you must be! but go on; what else?"
"Nothing else, Cornelius, save that I fear I don't care about Mary Stuart at all."
I looked at him rather shyly; he was laughing.
"You are as odd a girl as you were an odd child," he said, with his look bent on my face; "why, Daisy, that is just my case; I did not care about Mary Stuart whilst I painted her, and, poor thing! I don't care much about her now." ”

“ Cornelius?"
"The point," he replied, fairly provoked, "is, that such as you are, pretty or plain, I find you charming."
"Well, then," I said, amused at his persistency, "glamour has fallen on your eyes, and you see me through it."
"What if I do?" he answered, in a tone that, like his look, suddenly softened; "will that sort of magic vex you? What is there so pleasant in this world as the face of one we love; and if your face has that pleasantness for me; if the glamour, as you call it, of affection has fallen on my eyes and heart, why should you mind?" ”

“ I observed rather perplexed, "why were you so grieved, and why have you let me grieve, Cornelius?"
His face fell. He sighed profoundly.
"Why?" he said, "why? because, alas! my own will cannot do all. Oh, Daisy! I dread you. I dread you deeply! What avails it to me that I may prevail against others, when with a word you can render me powerless?"
He gave me a look of mingled anxiety and doubt. I wanted him to explain himself; but he would not go beyond saying that on me it all depended; an assertion which he repeated with a sigh. I believed him, and passed from grief to sudden gladness. ”

“ Tell me that your art requires your absence, I can bear it; tell me that you are too poor to keep me, that I must go, and earn my bread amongst strangers, and I shall bear that, too; for I shall look to a happy future, and a blessed reunion. But this—this, Cornelius, my very heart shrinks from it. I feel that you are to follow one path; and that, though my very being clings to you and Kate, I must tread in another, and see you both for ever receding from before my aching eyes. I am not yet eighteen, Cornelius, and I am so happy! I cannot afford to waste my youth, and throw away my happiness ”

“ There was a healthy serenity in the ardour of Cornelius; but hers was agitated like an ever-troubled sea. She sought not in love its divine oblivion of self, but, on the contrary, a consciousness of existence, rendered more intense by the very tumult of passion.
To love, for her, was not to be merged in some other being, but to absorb that other being in herself. All I know of her first lover was, that he was a captain in the navy, and that he perished with his ship four or five years before she met Cornelius. Her affection may have been outwardly devoted, but must have been selfish at heart. ”

“ Then I saw and felt my selfishness in not redeeming his pledge, in dragging him down from that just pride which he took in his unblemished life. I saw, I felt it all, and there rose within me one of those agonizing struggles without which we should not know the power of life; which are the new and bitter birth of our being.
Kate and Cornelius O'Reilly had the deep religious feeling of their race. They made not religion the subject of frequent speech, but they bore its love in their hearts; above all, dear and sacred in their home, was held the name of their Redeemer and their God. ”

“ I said very earnestly, "I should have been the niece of Cornelius, should I not, Kate?"
"You would have been my child."
"And his niece too, Kate."
"Do not be always thinking of Cornelius, Daisy."
"Oh! Kate, Uncle Cornelius has such a pleasant sound!"
She caressed me sadly; then we rose, went over the house together, and finally surveyed the garden. All trace of man's art had vanished from the spot, on which nature had bestowed a beauty and wild grace its culture had never known. The hedge of gorse now enclosed but a green wilderness of high waving grass, weeds, and wild flowers. ”

“ For awhile we looked down from the stone steps where Cornelius had found me lying so desolate, then Kate descended, and said to me—
"Daisy, we will not change much. We will spoil as little as we can the freshness of the place. I like that green grass, those weeds that hide the brown earth so well, those long trailing creepers and wild flowers. We will just clear the path, add a few of the plants we like, give the whole a look of home, and leave what is beautiful as we found it." ”

“ But memory will sometimes keep the aspects of outward nature, when that which impressed them on the mind has faded away and is lost for ever. I had often seen that wood before, but on no day do I seem to have felt so much the calm of its silence, the freshness of its deep shadow, the sweetness of its many murmurs, ever rising from unknown depths, and dying away again as mysteriously as they had awakened. Never do I seem to have breathed in with so much delight, that wild forest fragrance sweeter than the perfumes of any garden. ”

“ What we said I do not remember now; but I still remember how solemnly beautiful was that eve; how the calm moon rose behind the house and looked down at us from her lonely place above; how, as the sky darkened, it grew thick with stars; how the pine-trees bowed to the sea-breeze at the end of the garden; how the waves broke at the foot of the cliff with a low dash, pleasant to the ears, and how as I sat by Cornelius I felt I was no longer a poor orphan child, but a happy and loved woman ”

“ Cornelius watched me silently, and read on my face what was passing within me.
"Daisy," he said, in a low, sad tone, "remember we are not men or women until our hearts are mastered, until our passions—ay, the best and purest—lie subdued."
The words subdued my resentful mood to a sorrow more tender and holy. My burden was heavy, but was it more than I could bear? Daughter of the cross, should I dare to repine? I yielded; I tasted the bitter joy which those who bravely drain the cup of sacrifice find in its dregs—a strange sort of sweetness, to be felt, not described, and, alas! ”

“ I took off my bonnet and suspended it from the branches of the willow; I sat again beneath it; Cornelius unconsciously took the very attitude in which I remembered him—half reclining on the bank, with his brow resting on the palm of his hand. The same bending trees above, with their glimpses of blue sky; the same clear stream flowing on, with its silent world below, and its green wilderness beyond; the same murmur of low and broken sounds around us; the same sweet sense of freshness and solitude made past weeks seem like one unbroken summer day. ”

“ Daisy, be merciful! Give nothing if you cannot give all. Be at once all ice, and torment me no more with the calm serenity which is never coldness. Do you know how often you have made me burn to remind you, that though I was no one to you, you might be some one to me; that you have made me long for the sting of indifference and pride; for a familiarity less tender, for a tenderness less dangerous? Do you know that if your affection has been too calm for love, it has been very ardent for mere friendship; that it has possessed the perilous charm of passion and purity ”

“ I looked up, amazed at the stern bitterness of his tone, at the cold and inexorable meaning of his face, which had turned of a sallow paleness.
"But Cornelius," I exclaimed, much hurt, "I like him—"
"I don't believe it," he interrupted, biting his lip. "It is a dream—a fancy—the dream of a girl, of a mere child; all girls think they are in love; you have done like the rest."
I felt a burning blush overspread my face; my look sank beneath his; the hand which he had taken and still held, trembled in his; he dropped it and said:
"And is this the end of it all, Daisy? ”

“ I no longer felt the sting of his indifference or the bitter pang of his jealousy. I had nothing to stimulate my curiosity; nothing to desire or to dread; nothing but to be as happy as the day was long.
The other thing, I remember, is that I had in some measure seized on the power it had pleased Cornelius to relinquish. My will was more powerful over him, than his over me. I did not seek for it; but thus it was. It is almost ever so in human affections: perfect equality between two seldom exists; the sway yielded up by one is immediately and instinctively assumed by the other. ”

“ I dare not hope, I will not quite despair; I can do neither, for I protest, Daisy, that you are still to me a riddle and a mystery, and that whether you love him or love him not, is more than Cornelius O'Reilly can tell."
Cornelius had said all this without a pause of rest: he spoke with the daring rapidity of passion which tarries not for words, but with many an eloquent change of look, tone, and accent. I had heard him with throbbing bosom and burning brow. For the first time I was addressed in the language of love, and the voice that spoke was very dear to me. ”

“ Brand in happy and undisturbed possession of Poplar Lodge.
They thought not of us, and we thought not of them, nor of mortal creature, save Kate. The present effaced the past, and absorbed the future. Familiar affection may not have the romance and mystery of the passion which has given one soul and one heart to beings hitherto strangers; but it has a deeper tenderness and far more sacred purity. Love now sat with us at board and hearth; something unknown lingered at twilight-time in the shadow of the room, and morn and eve a charmed presence haunted every garden-path and bower. ”

“ He gave me a look of pain.
"Do not laugh so," he said; "do not. I never yet heard that light, girlish laugh of yours, but it presaged some new irritating torment. What are you going to say now?"
I saw his temper was chafed. I answered, soothingly:
"What can I say, Cornelius, save that only your sensitive conscience could imagine the accusation of selfishness? Those who think you selfish must be crazed. Why here am I to keep, a girl of seventeen, with little or no money, and you not a rich man yet! Why any other man would think me a bore—a burden—and be glad enough to get rid of me. ”

“ I shared the tasks and the pleasures of Kate, but whereas the absence of Cornelius, though deeply felt, had changed little or nothing in her habits or external life, it opened to me a new existence. Hitherto my life and my feelings had slept in the shadow of the life and feelings of Cornelius. He influenced me completely, when least seeking to do so. I loved his sister, but she had not that power over me, and when I was parted from my friend, I seemed to have remained alone and to fall back perforce on myself.
But when one evil, one teaching fail, God sends the needful. ”

“ Oh, Daisy! this is a good world after all, and with a good God over it; don't you see how the grief of one is made to work the bliss of another; how because your father and I were severed, the two children we loved so dearly can be united?"
"I see, Kate," I replied looking up into her face, "that Cornelius is good; that I, too, am what is called a good girl, and yet that we are two selfish creatures; that you alone are truly good and noble." ”

“ Of one part of this happiness, we may be fully conscious, but another we seldom feel, unless after long separation; even as we know that life is sweet, yet rarely pause and stand still to enjoy its sweetness, so though we are well aware of the happiness of union, we sometimes forget to be happy. Too often do we accept the presence of those we love best, as we receive sunshine and our daily bread; wants of our nature fulfilled.
I rejoiced in the return of Cornelius with an eager delight I never strove to hide, and which he seemed to share. ”

“ I could have cried with vexation to feel that this stately Mary Stuart did not touch me; that her sorrowful beauty, the grief of her weeping women, the insolent scorn of the English nobles, the impassiveness of the headsman, the commonplace pity of the lookers-on, actually left me cold and unmoved. And yet thus it was, and the longer I looked, the worse it grew; so I gave it up in despair, and turned to the portfolio.
Sketch after sketch I turned over with a pleasure that gradually grew into delight. All Italy, in her sunshine and beauty, seemed to pass before me. ”

“ Twice Miss O'Reilly accompanied us in our long daily walks; but the rest of the time she found some excuse to stay within, and we went out alone. That we should do so, gave her a degree of satisfaction I could not quite make out; but which I could not help perceiving. As I sat alone sewing one morning in the back parlour, Cornelius came, and leaning on the back of my chair, said:
"Where shall we go to-day?"
"Indeed, Cornelius," I replied, gravely, "I cannot always be going out with you, and leaving Kate alone."
"Kate is very fond of solitude," was his calm answer. ”

“ I sighed, and asked:
"What shall I do with it, Cornelius?"
"Look pretty in it, as you do now."
"But where shall I wear it?"
"Here, of course."
"It is only fit for a party. Why have we no party to go to?"
"Because people don't ask us," was his frank reply.
"I wish they would."
"To be seen and admired by others besides Cornelius O'Reilly, you vain little creature."
"It is not for that; but I should like a party or so."
"Well, when we get invited, I shall take you," he replied, with a smile that provoked me. ”

“ Cornelius, for you must not, no, you must not go."
"I knew it," he resignedly exclaimed, "I knew it would come to this; and yet," he added, looking down at me rather wistfully, "it is of no use, Daisy; I must go, and I will go too."
"No, Cornelius, you will not; you never could have the heart to do it.
Besides, why go?"
"For change."
"Change! what is change? If I were an artist I would make variety enough in my own mind to be the charm of daily life; and whilst I painted pictures, I would not care a pin for Spain or Italy. ”