"Why! how did you know about him?" interrupted Cornelia, into Mrs.
Vanderplanck's ever-ready ear-trumpet. "Is he a relation of yours, or
any thing?"
Aunt Margaret stopped short, and pressed her thin, wide lips together.
She had never imagined but that Professor Valeyon had told his daughters
through whose immediate instrumentality it was that Bressant made his
appearance at the Parsonage; but finding, from Cornelia's questions,
that this was not so, she bethought herself that it might be well for
her young guest to remain in ignorance, at least for the present. It was
not too late, and, after a scarcely-perceptible pause, she made answer: "It was in your dear papa's answer to my invitation, my love. Oh! so
shocked I was dear little Sophie couldn't come--lay awake all that
night with a headache--yes, indeed!--when he wrote to me, you
know--such a dear, noble letter it was, too! Oh! I read it over a
dozen--twenty times at least!--he mentioned this new pupil of
his--seemed interested in him--of course I can't help being interested
in whatever interests any of you dear ones, you know--he mentioned his
strange name and all--it is a strange name, isn't it, love?"
"It isn't his real name," interposed Cornelia; "nobody except papa knows
who he is. It's just like one of those ancient names, you know--the
Christian name and the surname in one."
"Oh, yes, I see--so odd, isn't it?--such a mystery, and all
that--yes--so that's how I came to speak of him, I suppose. One gets
ideas of a person that way sometimes, don't you know, though they may
never have actually seen them at all? Oh! when I was a young thing,
I was just full of those--ideals, I used to call them--oh, you know
all about it, I dare say!"
"He met with a very serious accident just before I came away," said
Cornelia to the ear-trumpet; "he stopped Dolly--our horse--she was
running away with papa in the wagon. He saved papa beautifully, but he
was dreadfully hurt--his collar-bone was broken, and he was kicked, and
almost killed. He's at our house now, and papa's taking care of him."
At this information Aunt Margaret became very white, or rather
bloodless, in the face. She allowed the ear-trumpet to hang by its
silver chain from her neck, and, reaching out her hand to a recess in
the writing-table at which she sat, she drew forth a small ebony box,
set in silver, and carved all over with little figures in bass-relief.
Opening it, she took out a few grains of some dark substance which the
box contained, and slipped them eagerly into her large mouth, Cornelia
watched her out of the corner of her eyes, and, being a physician's
daughter, she drew her own conclusions.
"Ho, ho! that's where your sick-headaches, and yellow complexion, and
nervousness, and weak eyes, come from, is it? You'd better look out!
that's morphine, or opium, or some such thing, I know; and papa says
that old ladies like you, who use such drugs, are liable to get insane
after a while, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you were to become
insane, Aunt Margaret!"