Nelly was in the kitchen talking quite unconcernedly with Kitty Collins.
There she remained until supper-time. Supper over, we all adjourned to
the sitting-room. I planned and plotted, but could manage in no way to
get Nelly alone. She and the Captain played cribbage all the evening.
The next morning my lady did not make her appearance until we were
seated at the breakfast-table. I had got up at daylight myself.
Immediately after breakfast the carriage arrived to take her to the
railway station. A gentleman stepped from this carriage, and greatly to
my surprise was warmly welcomed by the Captain and Miss Abigail, and by
Miss Nelly herself, who seemed unnecessarily glad to see him. From the
hasty conversation that followed I learned that the gentleman had come
somewhat unexpectedly to conduct Miss Nelly to Boston. But how did he
know that she was to leave that morning? Nelly bade farewell to the
Captain and Miss Abigail, made a little rush and kissed me on the nose,
and was gone.
As the wheels of the hack rolled up the street and over my finer
feelings, I turned to the Captain.
“Who was that gentleman, sir?”
“That was Mr. Waldron.”
“A relation of yours, sir?” I asked craftily.
“No relation of mine--a relation of Nelly's,” said the Captain, smiling.
“A cousin,” I suggested, feeling a strange hatred spring up in my bosom
for the unknown.
“Well, I suppose you might call him a cousin for the present. He's going
to marry little Nelly next summer.”
In one of Peter Parley's valuable historical works is a description of
an earthquake at Lisbon. “At the first shock the inhabitants rushed into
the streets; the earth yawned at their feet and the houses tottered and
fell on every side.” I staggered past the Captain into the street; a
giddiness came over me; the earth yawned at my feet, and the houses
threatened to fall in on every side of me. How distinctly I remember
that momentary sense of confusion when everything in the world seemed
toppling over into ruins.
As I have remarked, my love for Nelly is a thing of the past. I had not
thought of her for years until I sat down to write this chapter, and
yet, now that all is said and done, I shouldn't care particularly to
come across Mrs. Waldron's eldest boy in my afternoon's walk. He must be
fourteen or fifteen years old by this time--the young villain!