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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

"
Sophie sighed. "I did so want to finish my wedding-dress all myself,"
said she. "It needs only a few hours' work now, and Cornelia is so busy
on her own account, it's hard to ask her. Oh, yes! dear papa, I know how
glad she'd be to help me," she added quickly, seeing the old gentleman's
eyebrows meet, and his forehead redden.
"I should hope she would! Must be very busy if she hasn't time to do so
much as that!" growled he. "I'll send her up to you, my dear."
"Papa!" said Sophie, calling him back from the door; and it was not
until she had possession of his hand and was holding it against her
cheek that she went on. "Don't let the wedding be put off, if I
shouldn't be able to sit up on Sunday. I'll be carried down into the
guest-chamber, where he was ill for so long. Don't--papa, I know you
won't think hardly of me; but I feel a kind of superstition about that
particular day and hour: that if all is not done then, it never will be.
Am not I foolish? But do let it be so, and never mind wisdom!"
There was a vein of strenuous earnestness only partly concealed beneath
her words and manner, which the gruff old gentleman, who was as
sensitive as a photographic plate, where his affections were concerned,
did not fail to note.


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