Zuleime was not. She was anxious, foreboding.
“Why don’t you speak, my dear? Ain’t you glad you’re not going back to school, to leather shoulder braces and back boards, and square and compass rules and regulations, that mean nothing, unless they mean persecution and torture! Say, ain’t you glad?”
“I think I had rather go back to school for the present, sir.”
“Nonsense, now, my dear! Ah! I see how it is! You want to return with your dear aunt Cabell, and the dear city cousins—especially cousin Charley! Eh, you monkey! You grow tired of the country and your old father, as soon as ever your aunt and cousins talk about returning to the city! Ah! you rogue,” said the old man, chucking her under the chin, and devoutly praying that he might be right in his conjecture—for, oh! that child’s happiness! It lay nearer his heart than anything else on earth or in heaven.
“Dear father!” she said, embracing him, “I do not wish to leave you, indeed I do not. I prefer the country. And I had rather never leave you, or my home.”
“Dear little rogue, now don’t tell me that! I know better you know! And it is quite natural, and nobody blames you. The young bird must leave its nest, and the young girl her home, when she becomes a wife. Your mother left her parents and came home here with her husband. So do not think, my love, that your old father will charge you with selfishness for wishing to leave him—no, not wishing to leave him, but wishing to go with one who is to be your husband.”
Zuleime dropped her head, to conceal the deadly pallor that crept over her face.
“Yes, dear Zuleime, you will soon return to Richmond, though it will be not as a school-girl—but as a happy bride—as Mrs. Major Cabell! What a sonorous name and title for my little, romping Zuleime! Here, Charley Cabell! I have broken the ice, now come and speak for yourself!” exclaimed Mr. Clifton to Major Cabell, who was going by the door. Major Cabell came in, passing the old gentleman, who had seized his hat, and not trusting himself to look at his daughter, rushed out of the room. Zuleime remained standing where he had placed her, when he put her off his knee—panic struck—stupid—until Major Cabell took her hand, and attempted to lead her to a seat, then snatching her hand away with a shudder, she asked almost wildly—
“Cousin Charles, when does father want this marriage to come off?”
“As soon as my dearest Zuleime will consent to make me the happiest of men!” replied the common-place wooer, attempting to re-capture her hand, but she retreated shuddering, and asking, in a frantic tone and manner, in great contrast to her calm words—