But Bressant chewed his mustache, and said, hastily, the blood reddening
his face: "No, no! wait--wait till she comes back. She can know it
first, still; but you had better tell her with words. You can see, with
your own eyes, then, how--how it pleases her."
"Yes, that is true," said Sophie, half reluctantly. "Well?"
Bressant lay silent, with a peering, concentrated look in his eyes, his
brows slightly contracted. He must have had an intuitive foreboding that
this matter of the two sisters would cause some difficulty, but he could
hardly as yet have had a distinct understanding of what jealousy meant.
Howbeit, the lovers grew every day more intimate. In the earlier days of
her intercourse with him Sophie had felt an involuntary shrinking from
she knew not what, but this had been entirely overcome, partly by habit,
partly from an unconscious resolve on her part not to yield to it. 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.
But the sun which makes flowers bloom brings forth weeds as well, and
it would not be strange if this awakening of Bressant's dormant
faculties should have also brought some evil to the surface which else
might never have seen the light.
In the course of another week or so the invalid had so far improved as
to be able to leave his room, and make short excursions about the house,
and on to the balcony. The feverish and morbid symptoms faded away, and
the indulgence of a Titanic appetite began to bring back the broad, firm
muscles to arms, legs, and body. He felt the returning exhilaration of
boundless vitality and restless vigor which had distinguished him before
his accident.
The summer was now something overworn; the sultry dregs of August were
ever and anon stirred by the cool finger of September. The leaves,
losing the green strength of their blood, changed color and fluttered,
wavering earthward from the boughs whereon they had spent so many
sociable months. The surrounding hills seen from the parsonage-balcony
took on subtle changes of tint; the patches of pine and evergreen showed
out more and more distinctly; the over-ripe grass in the valley lay in
lines of fragrant haycocks.
Every day, in the garden, a greater number of red and yellow leaves
drifted about the paths, or scattered themselves over the flower-beds,
or floated on the surface of the fountain-basin. Little brown birds
hopped backward and forward among the twigs, with quick, jerking tails
and sideway, speculative heads; or upon the ground, pecking at it here
and there with their little bills, as if under the impression that it
was summer's grave, and they might chance to dig her up again. But once
in a while they got discouraged, and took a sudden, rustling flight to
the roof-tree of the barn, seemingly half inclined to continue on
indefinitely southward. Then, a reluctance to leave the old place coming
over them, they would dip back again on their elastic little wings, to
hop and peck anew.