My dear and honoured friend: 

Your letter has given me very great sorrow.  You must have known for many weeks, even months, that marriage between us was impossible.  It has always been so, it always will be so.  Why could you not be content?  We have been so happy!  So happy! and now you will end all.  But Fortune, though often cruel, cannot call back times that are past, and I shall never forget our friendship.  I grieve at your going away; I pray that your absence may bring you some consolation.  Do not, I beg you, attempt to call on my father.  Without explanations, I tell you very sincerely, such a call will cause me great trouble; for you know well a girl must trust somewhat to others’ judgment in her disposal.  It gives me more pain than I can say to write in this mood, but necessity permits me no kinder words.  I want you to be sure that the wrench, the “No” here is absolute.  My dear friend, pity rather than blame me; and I will be so unselfish as to hope you may not think so kindly of me as to be cruel to yourself.  Please to consider your letter as never written, it is the greatest kindness you can do me; and, above all, I beg you will not take my father into your confidence.  With a sad sense of the pain my words must cause you, I remain for all time your faithful friend and obedient servant,

Cornelia Moran.

Then she rang for a lighted candle, and while waiting for its arrival neatly folded her letters.  Her white wax and seal were at hand, and she delayed the servant until she had closed and addressed them.

“You will take Lieutenant Hyde’s letter first,” she said; “and make no delay about it, for it is very important.  Mr. Van Ariens’ note you can deliver as you return.”

As soon as this business was quite out of her hands, she sank with a happy sigh into a large comfortable chair; let her arms drop gently, and closed her eyes to think over what she had done.  She was quite satisfied.  She was sure that no length of reflection could have made her decide differently.  She had Hyde’s letter in her bosom, and she pressed her hand against it, and vowed to her heart that he was worthy of her love, and that he only should have it.  As for Rem, she had a decided feeling of annoyance, almost of fear, as he entered her mind.  She was angry that he had chosen that day to urge his unwelcome suit, and thus thrust his personality into Hyde’s special hour.

“He always makes himself unwelcome,” she thought, “he ever has the way to come when he was least wanted; but Joris!  Oh there is nothing I would alter in him, even at the cost of a wish!  Joris!  Joris!” and she let the dear name sweeten her lips, while the light of love brightened and lengthened her eyes, and spread over her lovely face a blushing glow.

After a while she rose up and adorned herself for her lover’s visit.  And when she entered the parlor Mrs. Moran looked at her with a little wonder.  For she had put on with her loveliest gown a kind of bewildering prettiness.  There was no cloud in her eyes, only a glow of soft dark fire.  Her soul was in her face, it spoke in her bright glances, her sweet smiles, and her light step; it softened her speech to music, it made her altogether so delightful that her mother thought “Fortune must give her all she wishes, she is so charming.”