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Bressant was very prominent in her thoughts; nor could she be blamed for this, for the short acquaintance bad been emphasized by a disproportional number of memorable events: First, there was the thunder-storm evening by the fountain; afterward, the dance at Abbie's; and, following in quick succession, the celestial arch, the walk homeward, and the catastrophe in which he had borne the chief part.
Ralph had remained a silent, immovable listener to this strange, sad conversation up to this moment. Now he came suddenly forward with a quick, firm tread, and encircled Abbie's trembling form with his arm, while with eyes and voice he addressed his mother. "In that last proposition you are quite mistaken, my dear mother.
Why, Ester, what have I been guilty of just now?" "You are not a bit sentimental; are you, Abbie?" And at this gravely put question Abbie's laugh rang out again. "Now don't, please, add that item to the list," she said merrily. "Ester, is it very important that one should be sentimental on such an occasion? I wish you were married, I really do, so that I might be told just how to conduct my self.
A picnic once in a while sleigh-ride in winter sewing-bees dance at at Abbie's; and all in the company of a set of country bumpkins, like Bill Reynolds, and awkward farmers' daughters! "It won't do must be attended to! The good education I was at such pains to give them it'll only make them miserable if they're to wear their lives out here.
So she contented herself, or perhaps it would be more truthful to say she made herself discontented, with ceaseless dreams over what New York, and her uncle's family, and, above all, Cousin Abbie, were like; and whether she would ever see them; and why it had always happened that something was sure to prevent Abbie's visits to herself; and whether she should like her as well, if she could be with her, as she did now; and a hundred other confused and disconnected thoughts about them all.
She would not for the world, it seemed to her, have made known to Abbie just how matters stood with her; and yet, and yet Christ knew it all. She lay very still, and breathed heavily. It came to her with all the thrill of an entirely new idea. Then that unwearied and ever-watchful Satan came to her aid. "Oh, well," said he, "your Cousin Abbie's surroundings are very different from yours.
Had the world gone wild? Was this an emanation from Cousin Abbie's brain, or were there many more Cousin Abbies in what she had supposed was a wicked city, or oh painful question, which came back hourly nowadays, and seemed fairly to chill her blood was this religion, and had she none of it? Was her profession a mockery, her life a miserably acted lie? "Is that thing hot?"
Pastor Lucus turned and caught sight of Abbie; he thought that she had not heard the bell, so he tapped the door panel with his fingers and nodded his head at her invitingly, as if to say: "See, we're waiting for you to let us in." Abbie's expression did not change. Pastor Lucus tapped at the door again, this time hesitantly, and still she looked at them with unseeing eyes.
"Only trifles," said Ester, thinking of Aunt Helen and Ralph, but deciding that Abbie had luxuries enough to offset both these anxieties. "I believe you will find that it needs precisely the same help to meet trifles that it does to conquer mountains of difficulty. The difference is in degree not in kind. But I happen to know that some of Abbie's 'trifles' have been very heavy and hard to bear.
This supposition on Abbie's part was not true. Dr. Van Anden, for instance, always had seemed to her most horribly and fanatically in earnest. But in what rank should she place this young, and beautiful, and wealthy city lady? Surely, she could not be a fanatic? Ester was troubled. "Well," said Abbie, "suppose I read you some of my sweet verses.
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