“What's that to me don't I know more of the world than she does? Am I come to this time of life to be taught by a slip of a girl that never was ten miles out of her home? Sit down here now, and write the answer.”
There was a stern determination in the way these last words were uttered that told Nelly how fruitless would be all further opposition. She had long since remarked, besides, how her father's temper reacted upon his health, and how invariably any prolonged excitement terminated in an attack of gout. Increasing age gave to these accesses of malady a character of danger, which she already began to remark with deep anxiety. Now she saw that immediate compliance with his wishes was the only alternative left.
She seated herself at the table, and prepared to write. For some seconds the disturbance of her thoughts, the mingled crowd of sensations that filled her mind, prevented all power of calm consideration; but the struggle was soon over, and she wrote on rapidly.
So silent was the chamber, so hushed was all within it, that the scratching noise of the pen alone broke the stillness. Speedily glided her hand across the paper, on which two heavy tears had already fallen, burning drops of sorrow that gushed from a fevered brain! A whole world of disaster, a terrible catalogue of ill, revealed itself before her; but she wrote on. She felt that she was to put in motion the series of events whose onward course she never could control, as though she was to push over a precipice the rock that in its downward rush would carry ruin and desolation along with it; but she wrote on.
At last she ceased, and all was still; not a sound was heard in the little room, and Nelly leaned her head down upon the table and wept.
But while she wept she prayed, prayed that if the season of trouble her thoughts foreshadowed should be inevitable, and that if the cup of sorrow must, indeed, be drained, the strength might be sent them for the effort. It might have been that her mind exaggerated the perils of separation, and the dangers that would beset one of Kate's temper and disposition. Her own bereavement might have impressed her with the misery that follows an unhappy attachment; and her reflective nature, shadowed by an early sorrow, might have colored too darkly a future of such uncertainty. But a deep foreboding, like a heavy weight, lay upon her heart, and she was powerless to resist it.
These instincts of our nature are not to be undervalued, nor confounded with the weak and groundless terrors of the frivolous. The closing petals of the flower as the storm draws nigh, the wild cry of the sea-bird as the squall is gathering, the nestling of the sheep within the fold while yet the hurricane has not broke, are signs that, to the observant instincts, peril comes not unannounced.
“Shall I read it, papa?” said she, as she raised her head, and turned towards him a look of calm and beaming affection.
“You need n't,” said he, roughly. “Of course, it 's full of all the elegant phrases women like to cheat each other with. You said she will go; that's enough.”
Nelly tried to speak, but the words would not come, and she merely nodded an acquiescence.