Bressant

"Why, to Mr. Bressant. Who else could it be?"

Sophie spoke in a soft tone of gentle surprise, but the words rang in

Cornelia's brain as if they had been fired from a cannon. She closed her

eyes, and leaned back in her chair. The strings of her hat choked

her--she tore them apart, and the hat fell from her nerveless hand to

the floor. She strove to open her eyes and command herself, but her

sight was blurred and darkened, and her head dizzy.

In a minute or two, however, she recovered herself sufficiently to be

aware that Sophie was alarmed about her. The imperative necessity not to

betray herself gave her a brief and superficial control. Her mind was in

confusion, and it was, perhaps, for this reason--because she could not

collect her faculties and analyze the situation--that she was enabled to

feel a gush of the natural, tender love for her sister--a joy in her

joy. Knowing that such a mood could not last long, she hastened to make

it available: she bent down, and put her arms around Sophie's neck.

"I'm so glad, darling! so happy! How splendid! isn't it? What a perfect

match! Ah, Sophie, I sympathize with you with all my heart. I couldn't

have wished you any thing better."

This was doing very well. Her manner was a little exaggerated; her

speech was hurried, and almost mechanical. She avoided looking Sophie in

the face while the lies were coming out of her mouth (if they were real

lies, and not a bastard kind of truth, good while spoken, and the next

moment degenerating into falsehood). Notwithstanding these minor

defects, it was a very successful effort--excitement, and even vehement

emotion, were quite admissible in a warm-hearted girl who had her

sister's welfare nearly at heart, and much might be allowed to

surprise. Indeed, Sophie, though a good deal agitated, and even anxious,

was not in the least suspicious or dissatisfied. Such was the loyalty

and humility of her own nature, that much stronger grounds would have

failed to inspire misgivings.

"I thought you were going to be ill, at first," she remarked, with a

loving smile. "Perhaps I told you too abruptly--did I? You see, I

thought you half knew it already--at least, that you suspected it--and,

then, to tell the truth, dear," added she, with a bright smile in her

eyes, "I didn't think you'd care so much--be so very glad, I mean.

There never was so sweet a sister as you."

Cornelia felt that this must not go on any longer. She could feel her

cheeks getting hot, and her eyes bright--very little more, and there

would be an outburst. She must leave the room at all hazards, and be by

herself.

She got up, and stood unsteadily, with her cold hand to her hot

forehead.