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Updated: June 7, 2025
Oleander and Hugh Ingelow in a state of frantic jealousy. It had come, long ere this, to be a settled thing that the Welsh baronet should never leave her side, except while she was dancing. So that when, a little before supper, they strolled out on the piazza, it was nothing surprising or remarkable. The winter night was windless and mild.
Ingelow, "and the chamber window was found unfastened, as if the bride had loosed it herself and stepped out." Sir Roger looked angrily around, with a glance that seemed to ask if they were all in a conspiracy against him; but, before he could speak, the door-bell rang loudly. Mr. Walraven remembered the anonymous note, and started violently.
"Well," thought Kitty, when she had had a little time for reflection, "a spinning-wheel is just what I wanted; but if people had told me this time yesterday morning that I should be offered a knapsack full of money, and should refuse it, I could not possibly have believed them!" By Jean Ingelow
Her resources were a tepid appreciation of modern idyllic poetry, as exemplified in the weaker poems of Tennyson, and the works of Adelaide Proctor and Jean Ingelow, a talent for embroidering conventional foliage and flowers on kitchen towelling, and for the laborious conversion of Nottingham braid into Venetian point-lace.
They went down-stairs, out-of-doors, into the cool, bright moonlight. Mollie Dane drew a long, long breath of unspeakable thankfulness as she breathed the fresh, free air once more. "Thank Heaven," she thought, "and Hugh Ingelow!" They reached the garden gate; it stood wide; they passed out, and the artist closed it securely after him.
If you don't ask Mollie Dane to-night, Hugh Ingelow or James Sardonyx will to-morrow, and the chances are ten to one she accepts the first one who proposes." "Indeed! Why?" "Oh, for the sake of being engaged, being a heroine, being talked about. She likes to be talked about, this bewildering fairy of yours. She isn't in love with any of you; that I can see.
He had hardly known how much he was in love with her until she was gone, and all young-ladydom grew flat, stale, and insipid as dish-water. Mr. Ingelow, of rather an indolent temperament, disposed to take things easy and let the world slide, was astonished himself at the sudden heat and ardor this little girl with the sunny smile had created within him.
But that is no excuse for such a villainous deed." "True. Nothing can excuse it. But you must be merciful. The man loved you passionately." "Mr. Ingelow," opening her eyes wild and wide, "are you pleading Doctor Oleander's case?"
Ingelow released her without a word. Mollie sat up, drew a letter from her pocket, and handed it to him. He saw it was addressed to Carl Walraven, and looked at her inquiringly. "I wish you to read it," she said. It was unsealed. He opened it at once, and read: "MR. WALRAVEN, Miriam is dead Miriam Dane my mother. She deceived you from first to last.
"As you please, my beautiful Mollie. Only don't keep me waiting too long, and let your answer be 'yes' when it comes." Miss Dane partook of supper with a very good appetite, accepted Mr. Ingelow for a waltz and Dr. Oleander for a quadrille, smiled sweetly and graciously upon both, and took Sir Roger's arm, at the close of the ball, for the carriage.
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