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Updated: June 16, 2025
For over an hour she slept, and woke to find Cornelia leaning back in her chair watching her, while the book lay closed on her lap. For a moment she hardly recognised the face which she had always seen animated, self-confident, and defiant, but which was now softened into so sweet a tenderness.
"There is nothing to fear in such a death." "Nothing at all. Last week when Cornelia and I passed his house, he was leaning on the garden gate, and he spoke pleasantly to her and told her she was a 'bonnie lassie. Where is Cornelia?" "In her room. John, she went to Duyckinck's this morning for me, and George Hyde met her again, and they took a walk together on the Battery.
Cornelia now daily trod the red pathways under the firs, and really imagined herself to be surprised, even vexed, when she met Mr. Barrett there at last. Emilia was by his side, near a drooping birch. She beckoned to Cornelia, whose North Pole armour was doing its best to keep down a thumping heart. "We are taking our last walk in the old wood," said, Mr. Barrett, admirably collected.
You went away to think it out; perhaps, if the truth's known, you were still undecided when the news of my sailing brought you up with a run. When I am gone and you have had time to cool down, you'll be glad!" Guest repeated the word with bitter emphasis. "Glad! I shall be glad, shall I? At the present moment, in any case, I am the most miserable man on earth. Have you no pity, Cornelia?
It did not last very long, and in fact it hardly survived the brief stay which the young man made in Pymantoning, where his want of success in art-goods was probably owing to the fact that he gave his whole time to Cornelia, or rather Cornelia's mother, whom he found much more conversable; he played upon the banjo for her, and he danced a little clog-dance in her parlor, which was also her shop, to the accompaniment of his own whistling, first setting aside the bonnet-trees with their scanty fruitage of summer hats, and pushing the show-table against the wall.
You ken tell 'em I've come out in spots, and you reckon I'm going down with small-pox." "That would not be true." "Oh, shucks!" shrugged Cornelia. "Troth is a fine institootion, but, like most old things, it gives out at times, and then there's nothing for it but to fall back upon good, new-fashioned imagination." Miss Briskett rose majestically from her seat and left the room.
"Suppose Margaret no! it isn't likely she would know any thing about it. He wasn't the man to make confidants of women. She gave the message to the son, not knowing what it meant, probably. Why, he wouldn't have dared to tell her! And then inviting Cornelia no, no! I've had some acquaintance with Margaret, and, with all her nonsense, I believe she's honest.
She never lacked wit and vivacity, but there was around her an air of restraint and cold modesty that was admirable in every way only it would never do in Baiæ. And so Cornelia, without ceasing to be admired, became less courted; and presently, quite tiring of the butterfly life, was thrown back more and more on herself and on her books. This did not disturb her.
Forty years ago the pair had been married John, a sturdy, sunny-tempered young fellow of twenty-one, six feet in his stockings, broad of shoulder, deep of chest, and with a name and a nature clean of all tarnish; Cornelia Blackshears, a typical mountain girl of the best sort. When, at the end of the first year, old Dr.
"If it isn't the proper thing I won't wear it," she said, with a sigh of regret for a lost dream. "Since you are determined to be married, Miss Cornelia," said Gilbert solemnly, "I shall give you the excellent rules for the management of a husband which my grandmother gave my mother when she married my father." "Well, I reckon I can manage Marshall Elliott," said Miss Cornelia placidly.
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