"Have you kept at that sewing ever since I went away?" asked she, idly
examining the work which Sophie had laid down.
"I believe so," replied Sophie, stroking her chin to a point between her
forefinger and thumb. "It's so pleasant to be able to sew again at all
that I should consider it no hardship to have to sew all day."
Cornelia's thoughts immediately reverted to the dresses which the next
two weeks must see made.
"You wouldn't be strong enough to do that, though, would you? I mean to
sew on dresses, and all that sort of thing?"
"Dresses?" said Sophie, looking up inquiringly into her sister's face.
"Oh, you mean your dress for Abbie's Fourth-of-July party? I thought you
were going to wear your--"
"Oh, no, not that; I wasn't thinking of that," interrupted Miss Valeyon,
with a gesture as if deprecating the idea of having ever entertained
ideas so lowly. "I shall hardly be in town on the Fourth," she added,
reflectively, as if calculating her engagements.
Sophie looked amazed, though it would have taken a keener observer than
Cornelia was at the moment to detect the slight contraction of the under
eyelids, and the barely perceptible droop of the corners of the mouth.
She saw that her sister had something of moment to tell her, and was,
for some reason, coquettish about bringing it out. Cornelia was often
entertaining to Sophie when she least had intention of being so; but
Sophie was far too tender of the young lady's feelings knowingly to let
her suspect it.
"Not be in town?" repeated she, demurely taking up her work; "why, where
are you going, dear?"
"Oh!" said Cornelia, with one of those little half-yawns wherewith we
cover our nervousness or suspense, "I didn't tell you, did I? Papa
received a letter from a lady in New York, the one who wanted us to call
her 'Aunt Margaret' when we were there ever so long ago--the year after
mamma died, you know--asking me to come to her house there, and go round
with her to Saratoga and all the fashionable watering-places. The
invitation was for about the first of July, so--"
Cornelia, speaking with a breathless rapidity which she intended for
sang froid, had got thus far, when Sophie, who had dropped her work
again, and had been regarding her with a beautiful expression of
surprise, joy, and affection in her eyes, stretched forth her arms,
cooed out a tender little cry of happy congratulation and sympathy, and
hugged her sister around the neck for a few moments in a very eloquent
silence.
"Why, Sophie!" murmured Cornelia, covered with an astonishment of
smiles and tears, "how sweet you are! I didn't think you'd care; I
thought you'd think it foolish in me to be glad, dear Sophie!"