"You don't know, Emily," I said, "as well as I do. She has as proud a spirit as your own; and I think, she would die rather than to allow any one to suppose, she were sitting meekly waiting his affection."
Thursday, August 6th.
After the conversation yesterday afternoon, I was obliged to own to myself that I had been too hasty in my conclusions; and I determined to be very careful of what I said to sister. I walked over to the cottage, therefore, instead of running, as I felt inclined, and found mother alone in the parlor completing a dress for Emily.
"Where is sister?" I asked.
"She is in her room, packing. I wish you would persuade her to give up this journey, or at least to postpone it. She really is not well."
"That is just my errand. Frank is decided against it."
"Well then, go and talk with the child, and I wish you success."
I peeped into the room, and saw her on her knees at the trunk, while Ruth was passing articles to her young mistress from the drawers, closets, etc. I said, "Ruth, I will take your place," and she went below. Now I had prepared a kind of speech for the occasion; but at the time I couldn't think of a word of it. "Emily," said I, sitting down instead of assisting her, "I have come to ask a great favor of you. Will you grant it?"
"Certainly, my love, why should you doubt it?"