"Oh! I don't like him at all!" exclaimed Cornelia, shuddering again.
Lest she should be suspected of a wilful misstatement, it may be as
well to show how it might happen that she should deceive herself in the
matter. Such likes and dislikes as she had heretofore felt could one and
all have been paraphrased as a more or less agreeable state of mind,
induced by the sight or thought of such and such an individual. She had
never conceived the possibility that a vital affection could take its
origin in aversion and fear, and grow strong through turmoil, passion,
and suffering. As a matter of course, she estimated her feeling toward
Bressant by the only gauge she had, and with no reference to the fact
that it was a wholly inadequate one.
The majority of the impressions she had received of him could not
certainly be called pleasant; and that he was continually in her
thoughts; that every thing she heard or saw connected itself, in one way
or another, with him; that he bore a possible part in many of her
imaginations of the future--these were factors she did not take into
account, because ignorant of their significance. The conclusion that she
did not like him was therefore a legitimate one, according to the light
she had.
Whatever Sophie may have thought of Cornelia's answer, she said no more,
but lay in reverie, opening and shutting her scissors in an objectless
manner, until Cornelia's voice flowed forth again.
"Isn't it a pity he wasn't a nice, jolly, society fellow? it would have
been such fun this winter! As it is, I don't suppose we shall be able to
do so much even as if we were alone."
"From something papa said the other day, I think he'd like to try and
make Mr. Bressant more of a society fellow; perhaps it would wear away
that coldness and hardness you speak of."
"What I teach him the arts and pleasures of fashionable life?" exclaimed
Cornelia, laughing. "Dear me! I'd no more think of trying to teach that
great big thing any thing than--any thing!"
"But you can make him go to Abbie's party, if you are to be there
yourself, and then, if you don't want to instruct him, you can give him
to some one who isn't afraid of him, and--have Bill Reynolds all to
yourself."
Cornelia laughed and pouted, and told Sophie she was mean; but probably
felt it a relief to have poor Bill's name introduced, he being so
palpably hors de combat.
"It would be pretty good fun, after all--walking round on the arm of
that great, tall, broad-shouldered creature, and telling him how to
behave! I believe I will try it!" and she straightened herself up with
a very valiant air.
"It will be your last chance, remember!" said Sophie, looking up with a
deep smile in her eyes. "I promised papa that when I was well I'd take
charge of Mr. Bressant myself!"