y of small triumphs, but the sum of them mounted up to something
considerable.

"Is he gone, Livy?" said Cary, as, entering noiselessly, she stole
behind her sister's chair.

"Yes, dear, he is gone!" said she, sighing slightly.

"My poor forlorn damsel, don't take his absence so much to heart! You
're certain to see him at dinner!"

"He said he'd leave this afternoon," said she, gravely; "that he could
n't bear to meet me after what had passed."

"And what has passed, child?"

"You know, of course, Cary; I refused him!"

"Refused him!--refused him!--what possessed you to do so?"

"This!" said Olivia, gasping with terror at the unknown danger; and she
caught hold of the fringe of her sister's scarf. Miss Kennyfeck started,
and put her hand to her neck, and, suddenly letting it fall again, she
leaned against the wall for support.

"This was a mistake, Livy," said she, in a voice barely above a whisper;
"I was trying on some costumes below stairs, and they tied this round my
neck, where I utterly forgot it."

"And there is nothing--" She could not go on, but, hanging her head,
burst into tears.

"My poor dear Livy, don't give way so; the fault, I know, was all mine.
Let me try if I cannot repair it Have you positively refused him?"

She nodded, but could not speak.

"Did you say that there was no hope,--that your sentiments could never
change?"

"I did."

"Come, that's not so bad; men never believe that. You did n't say that
your affections were engaged?"

"No!"

"There 's a dear child," said she, kissing her neck; "I knew you 'd
not be guilty of such folly. And how did you part, Livy,--coldly, or in
affectionate sorrow?"

"Coldly; we did not shake hands."

"That's right; all as it ought to be. It is a sad blunder, but I hope
not irreparable. Cheer up, child; depend upon it, _my_ scarf is not so
fatal as Aunt Fanny's blessing."

"Ah, then, my dear, I don't see much difference in the end," said that
redoubtable lady herself, who issued from a small conservatory off the
drawing-room, where she had lain in wait for the last half hour. "I
heard it, my dears, and a nice hash you made of it between you, with
your signals and telescopes,"--we believe she meant telegraphs;
"you threw out the dirty water, now, in earnest!" And so saying, she
proceeded to disentangle herself from a prickly creeper which had a most
pertinacious hold of what Linton called her "scalp-lock."

"Aunt Fanny's blessing indeed!"