'Oh! deuce take your impossibles, Con Bonderlay. Tell me if the lad asked you to marry him, and what your answer was?'
She hesitated—looked up—looked down—looked startled; and then murmured, as if examining for the first time the word, as it slipped musically from between her lips, 'Impossible!'
'Well, Niece Con, I think you're said impossible once too often in your life, if this is to be the upshot. Come now, be candid and don't be a fool! Did you intend to refuse Major George?'
'Impossible!' was the reply; which, habitual as it was, burst forth this time in a passion of tears and blushes.
Mr Elliston always affirmed that he saw at a glance how the matter stood: that, in short, Major George had made a 'fool of himself.' The lady had not intended to reject him; but the major, from his shy, shamefaced nature, on hearing Miss Constantia's fatal 'impossible!' in reply to his love-suit, had flown from the scene of disappointment without an attempt at explanation. Acting on such a supposition (for mere supposition it remained, neither the lady nor gentleman making the slightest confession), Mr Elliston addressed his niece with more gentleness, a dash of pity mingling in his tone: 'Niece Constantia, I shall write to Major George, and bring him back again; but mind you don't say "impossible" a second time!'
However, Mr Elliston indulged in the fault of procrastination, which in him often led to results he did not anticipate: he rarely remembered that excellent maxim, which advises us never to postpone till to-morrow what can be performed as well to-day. To-morrow came, indeed; but with it also came an attack of gout, which incapacitated him from exertion for weeks: and scarcely was he convalescent, when a letter was put into his hands from the absentee, announcing the marriage of Major George with a very pretty and charming young lady. Mr Elliston handed the missive to his niece: she perused it in silence; but her uncle told Mrs Smith, in strict confidence, that he felt almost sure a tear fell on the paper. Be that as it might, shortly afterwards, when Mr Elliston signified his intention of inviting Major George, Major George's young bride, and the young bride's elder sister, to pay him a visit, Miss Constantia expressed a desire to return home. Her uncle acquiesced with rather too much alacrity for conventional politesse, exclaiming as he did so: 'I only hope, Niece Con, that George's wife won't be a "Dear me!" or a "Well, I never!" but a hearty, comfortable, chattering woman, with a will and a way of her own!'
Nor were Mr Elliston's hopes in this instance doomed to disappointment; for Mrs Major George had not only an actual tongue, but a way and a will of her own so decided, that ere the expiration of their visit, she succeeded in bringing about a union between the nabob and her elder sister. Some folks affirmed, that Mr Elliston came speedily to endure the flat contradictions of his wife with the humility of a broken spirit, and to speak with tender regret of his meek and inoffensive nieces. They, quiet souls, heard of their uncle the nabob's marriage without surprise, and without expressing emotion of any kind, beyond the 'Really!' 'Indeed!' and 'Impossible!' appertaining to each, as her distinguishing characteristic or mark of identity. When we first met the Misses Bonderlay, with their trinal baskets and squares of worsted-work, they were preparing a beautiful hearth-rug as a present for their uncle's wife, to be formed of these identical squares, with numerous others of a similar construction, and surrounded by a corresponding handsome border. Since that period, we have been favoured with exquisite specimens of their united industry; for the greatest pleasure of their lives consists in bestowing such-like gifts of handiwork on their friends and acquaintance.
But we have derived another benefit from our intercourse with the sisters. Whenever we find ourselves at a loss for an inoffensive reply, or are unwilling to pursue a discussion, we find a safe refuge in copying their harmless peculiarity; for, after all, the meaning of words depends very much on intonation: and we have not unfrequently had confirmed, by our own experience, the theory we have ventured to promulgate—that there is much virtue in such interjections as Really! Indeed! and Impossible!