On the other hand, her toleration would be almost certain to have a bad effect upon Bressant, no matter how sincere and well-meaning he might be at the outset.  A man is apt to know when he has power over a woman; and, although he may have no expectation of it, nor wish to use it, yet, as time goes on and accustoms him to the idea, he must have strong principles or cold blood who does not finally yield to temptation.  Plain speaking, where pleasant things are said, is smelling poisonous flowers for both parties.

A steady fall of rain set in during the night, and made the morning of departure gray.  Blurred clouds rested helplessly on the backs of the hills, and wept themselves into the wet valley without seeming to grow less lugubrious for the indulgence.  There was no wind; trees and plants stood up and were soaked in passive resignation.  The weather-beaten boards of the barn were drenched black, except a small place right under the eaves, which looked as if it had been painted a light gray.  When the covered wagon was brought around to the gate, it speedily acquired a brilliant coat of varnish; Dolly’s bay suit was streaked and discolored, and the reins, thrown over her back, got all wet and uncomfortable.

Michael now came for Cornelia’s trunk—­a ponderous structure packed within an inch of its existence.  Cornelia stood at the head of the stairs and saw it go thump! thump! thump! down to the bottom, and then scrape unwillingly over the oil-cloth to the door.  Such a heavy-hearted old trunk as it was!  Then she walked to the hall-window, and watched its further journey along the glistening marble causeway, which dimly reflected its square ponderosity, and the tugging Michael behind it.

Now the gate had to be pulled open; the rasp of its rattle and sharpness of its flap were somewhat impaired by the wet, but it managed to give the trunk a parting kick as it went out, as much as to say the house was well rid of it.

“Cornelia!” called the Professor from down-stairs, “you’ve just five minutes to say good-by in.  Get through and come along!”

She passed through Sophie’s open door; her sister held out her arms, her eyes overflowing with tears, but smiling with the strange perversity that possesses some people on these occasions.  Cornelia was troubled with no such misplaced self-dental; she threw herself impatiently down by Sophie, and sobbed with all her might.  Possibly it was more than one regret that found utterance then.

“You’ll be all well and walking about when I come back, won’t you dear?” said she, at last, in a shaking voice.

“I shall get well thinking what a splendid time you’re having, darling.”

“Sophie—­will you be quite the same to me when I come back?”

“Why, Neelie, dear, what a question!  I shall always be the same to you.”

“But I feel as if there were going to be something—­that something was going to come between us;” and Cornelia began to droop like a flower under an icy wind.  “You never could hate me, could you, Sophie?”