"Not in her features; in size and gay heedlessness of manner she is
like Lilly as I saw her last."
"Yes; Lilly's eyes were blue, and your child's are dark, like your
own; but she never comes up and puts her arms round my neck without
recalling bygone years. I could shut my eyes and fancy my lost
darling was once more mine. Ah! how carefully memory gathers up the
golden links of childhood and weaves the chain that binds our hearts
to the olden time! Sometimes I think I am only dreaming, and shall
wake to a happy reality. If I could have Lilly back, oh, what a
sunshine it would shed over my heart and life! But this may not be;
and I can only love Cornelia instead."
Her long, black lashes were weighed down with unshed tears, and
there was a touching sadness in her low voice. Cornelia stood by her
side, busily engaged in dressing Beulah's hair with some of the
roses and scarlet geranium she had gathered. She noticed the unusual
melancholy written in the quiet face, and said impatiently: "With all my flowers you won't look gay! It must be this black
dress. Don't wear such ugly, dark things; I wish you wouldn't. I
want to see you look beautiful, like mother."
"Cornelia, go and break that cluster of yellow berries yonder," said
her father; and when she had left them he turned to his companion
and asked: "Beulah, have you reflected on what I said the last time I saw you?"
"Yes, Eugene."
"With what result?"
"My former decision is only confirmed the more I ponder the
subject."
"You have seen nothing of Reginald, then? He was here, on some legal
business, last week."
"No; he has been in the city several times during the last four
years, but never comes here; and, except that one letter, which I
did not answer, I have heard nothing from him. I doubt whether we
ever meet again."
"You are a strange woman! Such devotion as his would have won any
other being. He is as much attached to you now as the day he first
offered you his hand. Upon my word, your obstinacy provokes me. He
is the noblest man I ever knew--everything that I should suppose a
woman of your nature would admire; and yet, year after year, you
remain apparently as indifferent as ever."
"And it were a miserable return for such unmerited love to marry him
merely from gratitude. I do admire him, but cannot marry him. I told
him so four years ago."