“My dear, Mr. Weems, here, has formally proposed for the hand of Leonie, and I have given my consent, provided you also would do so.”
Mrs. Cowdrick replied by a shriek, after which she flung herself into a chair, and, with an expensive handkerchief to her face, she sobbed hysterically.
“Ma is doing that to show how well she can pose,” said Leonie, in a whisper to Weems. “She used to be splendid in private theatricals.”
Mrs. Cowdrick sprang up, and in tones of apparently intense excitement she said,—“No, no! I cannot let her go! It is impossible! It is so unexpected, so sudden! My child, my poor, darling child! To be torn ruthlessly from the arms of her dear mother! I cannot bear it! It will kill me!” and Mrs. Cowdrick flung her arms wildly about Leonie and wept.
Leonie seemed quite calm. She lowered her shoulder slightly, to incline her mother’s head, so that her tears would fall upon the floor instead of upon her dress.
Mr. Cowdrick comforted her, reasoned with her, and showed her that, after all, Leonie’s happiness was at stake. To promote her happiness, her parents must be willing to make some sacrifices, and she must try to brace herself to meet the trial, hard as it was. Mrs. Cowdrick’s agitation gradually decreased, as her husband spoke; and when she had rested upon the sofa for a moment, and helped her nerves by inhaling salts from a gilded smelling-bottle, she said:
“If it must be, it must! Take her, Julius! Take her, and love her, and cherish her, so that she will never rue having been torn from the parental nest!”
“I promise you faithfully to do my best,” replied Mr. Weems.
“And now, my children,” said Mr. Cowdrick, as his voice trembled with emotion, “I give you an old man’s blessing! May you be happy in each other’s love until life shall end!”
Then Mr. Cowdrick wiped his eyes, and taking Mrs. Cowdrick on his arm, they went upstairs to discuss some method by which the marriage could be celebrated before the crash came at the bank.