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Updated: May 26, 2025
Reverting naturally, now that his sentence of banishment had been pronounced, to his early intercourse with the cottage, his memory went back to Neelie, more regretfully and more penitently than it had gone back to her yet.
"Dear me, Neelie!" exclaimed she, in gentle consternation, "are you going to wear your corsage so low as that?" "Yes, why not?" returned Cornelia, with a kind of defiance in her tone; "it's the fashion, you know. Oh, I've seen them lower than that in New York!" "But there'll be nothing like it here, dear, I'm sure. Think how frightened poor Bill Reynolds will be when he sees you."
The major and Miss Neelie were both in the parlor miss not looking so pretty as usual; pale, I thought, pale, and worn, and anxious. Ha! ha! the idea of anybody looking me down, at my time of life. I behaved like a Christian; I nodded kindly to old What's-o'clock 'Fine morning, major, says I. 'Have you any business with me? says he.
She looked at her eyes in the glass, and, pouring out some cold water, bathed her face. "Miss Gwilt shan't see I've been crying!" thought Neelie, as she went back to the bedside to take her leave. "I've tired you out, mamma," she said, gently. "Let me go now; and let me come back a little later when you have had some rest."
The cruel brevity of the reply, and the tone in which it was spoken, told Neelie plainly that her mother's attention had been wandering far away from her, and that it was useless and needless to prolong the interview. She turned aside quietly, without a word of remonstrance. It was nothing new in her experience to find herself shut out from her mother's sympathies.
If Neelie had ever been accustomed to ask her mother's advice and to trust herself to her mother's love, she might have said such words as these. As it was, the tears came into her eyes, and she hung her head in silence. "Come!" said Mrs. Milroy, beginning to lose patience. "You have something to say to me about Miss Gwilt. What is it?" Neelie forced back her tears, and made an effort to answer.
And when that time is over, and well over; and when I have had him under my own eye for another six months, and have learned to think as highly of him as you do even then, my dear, after all that terrible delay, you will still be a married woman before you are eighteen. Think of this, Neelie, and show that you love me and trust me, by accepting my proposal. I will hold no communication with Mr.
Neelie started up, and tried to put her mother back on the pillow. "Mamma!" she exclaimed, "are you in pain? Are you ill? You frighten me!" "Nothing, nothing, nothing," said Mrs. Milroy. She was too violently agitated to make any other than the commonest excuse. "My nerves are bad this morning; don't notice it. I'll try the other side of the pillow. Go on! go on!
That will be to-morrow at noon." "O Sophie! Sophie! the day and hour of your marriage!" Cornelia sank upon her knees, and hid her face upon the edge of the bed. But Sophie let her hand wander over her head, with a soothing motion. "No, dear; that's all over, Neelie dear, you know. Not the day and hour of my marriage any more. Neelie, I want to ask you something."
Allan cleared his throat, and Neelie held the point of her pencil ready on the depressing side of the account otherwise the "Bad" page of the pocket-book. "Blackstone might put it in shorter sentences, I think, if he can't put it in fewer words. Cheer up, Neelie! there must be other ways of marrying, besides this roundabout way, that ends in a Publication and a Void. Infernal gibberish!
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