"Do you remember what you called me then?" No reply.
"Tell me, Cynth; do you remember what you called me?"
"Yes," very low.
"You called me a coward. Do you think I am one now?"
"Oh no."
"But you also said you had faith in me, Cynthia; and in Philadelphia that spring I told you I was going to prove to you that I was worthy of your faith. Do you think I have, Cynthia?"
"Yes, Neal."
He said nothing for a minute. Then he glanced at the old clock in the back part of the hall. It was five minutes of twelve.
"Come to the hall window, Cynthia," he said, taking her hand; and Cynthia went with him. "That other New-year's eve we stood here and looked out on the snow just as we're doing now. Do you remember?"
"And I made good resolutions which I never kept," said Cynthia, finding her voice at last. "Oh, Neal, my bureau drawers are just as untidy and my tongue is just as unruly as ever! I make the same good resolutions every New-year's eve, but I always break them. You were wiser. You would not promise that night when I wanted you to, but you have done a great deal better than if you had."