a love story gone wrong...

     This is another story I had to write for school. (If you didn't guess it already, it's kinda sad. Just wanted to clarify that. :)) I had to produce the emotion "indignation", where you feel that someone got something that you deserved. I sort of twisted it off of Wives and Daughters, except, it has a, well-- *surprise*--bad ending.

      She was unhappy. Her wonderful father, Mr. Gibson, who was a widower, just remarried the woman who could care less about her, and who had a daughter, Cynthia, her age who almost seemed as if she tried everything in her power to make life miserable for her. Trying to forget her woes, she smiled as she watched him. He was talking to his friends about something obviously important to him, for his face was bright with radiance, and his brown eyes were lit up in absolute passion. She gazed at him, wishing she could take part in such a lively discussion. Could he ever love her? Could he ever return her feelings? He was a friend of the family, except that he hadn’t met her stepmother and stepsister. She was sure that if he asked, her father would give him full-hearted consent. She was pondering these things until her thoughts were interrupted by hearing her stepmother mention to her friends,
      “Oh the poor dear, it’s obvious that she won’t have any proposals thrown to her any time soon. My, anyone’s dinner would curdle in their stomach with one glance at her! One would think she has lost her bloom–if anyone could possibly believe she had any in the first place!” It was true. Molly possessed a wiry build, untamable red, frizzy hair, and such a pale complexion as would make it seem she would faint at any moment. When she heard this, her throat suddenly felt dry, and her cheeks burned in mortification. She looked at him again when suddenly, his eyes met hers. She almost thought he would look away, embarrassed, as he had done many times before, but now he steadily held her gaze, as if he were unquenchably in love. It seemed almost as if in that one moment, there was no such thing as time. Could it be true? Could he really see something in her? Her heart pounded at the thought. To be eighteen and in love–with Mr. Knightly!
        It was a few weeks and Molly replayed that evening over and over in her mind. She though of it so often, it was faded and thin, like a letter too often read However, she had to wait on her stepmother and stepsister frequently. Sometimes she envied her sister Cynthia’s beauty, but then she’d remember that evening with Mr. Knightly. Molly decided to go on a short walk to reflect about this. Her bare feet walked across the cold cobblestones as she took in the spring beauty. It was early in the morning, and the sun was just rising, and slowly stretching her fingertips through the fog and the budding cherry trees and willows. Molly took a deep breath of some nearby lilac, which helped calm her frayed nerves. She continued on soaking in the loveliness when suddenly she saw Mr. Knightly walking up the path. He seemed to be reciting something to himself when he saw Molly and looked rather shocked.
       “Mr. Knightly,” said she,”what brings you here? I don’t believe my father is ready for your study today in Plato.”
       “That’s not what I’ve come here for,” he said. “I’ve come on very important business.”
       “Oh dear! pray, nothing’s wrong, is there?”
       “No,” Mr. Knightly said, stepping closer and taking her hand, “No, I just wanted to ask your father if, well, you could, if I may, I–I wanted to ask you if you could possibly–Molly, you, you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. Do you think–could you consider–may I take your hand, in marriage?”
         Molly stood there, speechless. She observed the sweat on his forehead as he stood there, anticipating her reply. She looked into his eyes, and smiled. He needed not another answer, for she had already given it. He stepped in closer, still gazing deeply into her eyes, and gently touched her red frizzy hair as if he would rather have no other in the world. Then he softly kissed her, amidst the rising sun and budding flowers and the promising signs of spring. However, Cynthia watched them through the window, envious. Seeing Mr. Knightly go toward Mr. Gibson’s office, she darted away, and walked the same direction.
         Mr. Knightly walked quickly in anticipation to ask Mr. Gibson permission for Molly’s hand in marriage when he ran into Cynthia. Embarrassed, and asking her pardon, Mr. Knightly began to slowly forget where he was going, and what he was doing, when he gazed at her. He was captivated by her, and stared into the green eyes under the rich, dark lashes, which batted innocently at him. He suddenly remembered his business, and walked into Mr. Gibson’s office.
         The clinking of glass filled the crowded room when Mr. Knightly stood up and said, “I have an announcement to make!” All the guests at the table hushed, waiting. “I have been honoured by a certain young lady in this room, to take her hand in marriage. I have learned that true love isn’t about money, or reputation, nor is it marrying the person whom you can live with, but rather, the person whom you can’t live without.” He glanced at Molly, who gazed at him lovingly then blushed. “I never thought I would find love, until now.” He walked towards Molly, then walked to the seat beside her. He put his hand on Cynthia’s shoulder, then announced his engagement to her. Everyone applauded, except Molly, who could hardly believe it. Her mind was racing. What had just happened? She rose out of her seat quietly, then ran to her room and cried herself to sleep.
       “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded wife?” said the minister. Molly stood beside Cynthia, her heart crushed and sore. Cynthia, knowing what had happened, had “tried” to make her feel better by making her the maid of honour. She stared at Mr. Knightly, partly longingly and partly severely. It was all Cynthia’s fault. She took the one thing, the one person, whom she loved so dearly. After the wedding, she walked up to the new couple to congratulate them, silently praying that she wouldn’t cry, and greeted them, then said bitterly, “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Mr. and Mrs. Knightly.” Cynthia gave her an in-your-face smile while Mr. Knightly never took his eyes off his new wife. Molly’s heart was bleeding and raw, and knew no happiness as she felt the injustice done to her by her wicked stepsister.