We had no walk together that day.

I was sitting in the evening, quite alone, when Milly entered the room. Her
eyes were red, and she looked very sullen.

'I want your hand, cousin,' she said, at the same time taking it by the
wrist, and administering with it a sudden slap on her plump cheek, which
made the room ring, and my fingers tingle; and before I had recovered from
my surprise, she had vanished.

I called after her, but no answer; I pursued, but she was running too; and
I quite lost her at the cross galleries.

I did not see her at tea, nor before going to bed; but after I had fallen
asleep I was awakened by Milly, in floods of tears.

'Cousin Maud, will ye forgi' me--you'll never like me again, will ye? No--I
know ye won't--I'm such a brute--I hate it--it's a shame. And here's a
Banbury cake for you--I sent to the town for it, and some taffy--won't ye
eat it? and here's a little ring--'tisn't as pretty as your own rings; and
ye'll wear it, maybe, for my sake--poor Milly's sake, before I was so bad
to ye--if ye forgi' me; and I'll look at breakfast, and if it's on your
finger I'll know you're friends wi' me again; and if ye don't, I won't
trouble you no more; and I think I'll just drown myself out o' the way, and
you'll never see wicked Milly no more.'

And without waiting a moment, leaving me only half awake, and with the
sensations of dreaming, she scampered from the room, in her bare feet, with
a petticoat about her shoulders.