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Updated: June 8, 2025
Sophie, who knew her sister well, and was very shrewd besides, began to suspect that it would not be displeasing to Cornelia to be opposed, and even out-argued upon the question of Mr. Bressant's probable attendance at the party, and qualifications to make himself agreeable when there.
Cornelia ran down-stairs; her papa had just gone out to the wagon; she went into Bressant's room, and walked quickly up to the bedside. "Here's your watch," said she. "I've kept it all safe, and wound it up and every thing." She had also slept with it under her pillow, and worn it all day in her bosom, but that she did not mention. She laid it down on the table as she spoke.
"What does all this mean? What are you going to do with me? Are you making a sport of me?" cried Cornelia, clasping both hands over Bressant's arm, in a passion of helplessness. Much as she loved life, she would, at that moment, have died rather than feel that she was ridiculed and deserted by him.
As she came down from the ladies' dressing-room, she felt a strong impulse to go and kiss her papa good-by; but reflecting that Bill would probably be with him, and that she would see him at any rate before she went to bed, she thought better of it; and, taking Bressant's arm he was waiting her at the foot of the stairs she signified her readiness to start.
The quick, intelligent sympathy of her nature discerned and interpreted the germs of new ideas and impulses which were struggling into life in Bressant's mind; she translated to him his better part, and warmed it with a flood of celestial sunshine.
She did not, to be sure, seem solely anxious to know the hour; she bent down and examined the enameled face minutely; watched the second-hand make its tiny circuit; pressed the smooth crystal against her cheek; listened to the ceaseless beating of its little golden heart. That golden heart, it seemed to her, was a connecting link between Bressant's and her own.
"We'd better wait, then," said Sophie, turning her clear, gray eyes upon him with an expression of demure satire. "By-and-by, perhaps, it won't have such a distracting effect upon you when you come to know me better. If not, I must keep away altogether." Bressant's forehead grew red with sudden temper. He felt reproved, but was not prepared to acknowledge that he had merited it.
The conceit of her ideal crusade against Bressant's shortcomings blinded Sophie to what she could not otherwise have helped seeing that she enjoyed his companionship for its own immediate sake. She had, perhaps, more direct and simple strength of character than he; but he made up in other ways for the lack of it.
At the beginning of the village street stood the corner grocery; a wooden awning in front, some men loafing at the door, who looked up as the sound of Bressant's passing struck their ears; within, an indistinct vision of barrels of produce, hams pendent from the dusky ceiling, some brooms in a corner, and a big cheese upon the counter.
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