Bressant

Mr. Reynolds immediately paused, and regarded this group for some

moments with an air of singular sagacity and archness.

"I say, young fellow," ejaculated he, at length, with an evident effort

to attain distinctness of utterance, "that sort of thing won't do, you

know."

Bressant looked up and recognized the rustic bacchanalian for the first

time. He had always had a peculiar antipathy to this young gentleman;

but at this moment it was intensified into a loathing. How could he ask

assistance from such a degraded creature as this?

The recognition had been mutual, and Mr. Reynolds, tacking unsteadily

around, brought himself to bear in such a position as to catch a fair

view of Sophie's face, with the spot of blood on her chin. The first

glance so terrified him, that he utterly, forsook his footing, and came

abruptly to the ground, never once taking his eyes from the face, all

the way. But the shock of his fall, and the awful solemnity of what he

saw, sobered him considerably. He turned to Bressant, and eyed him with

anxious earnestness.

"Why, you're the fellow she's engaged to, ain't you? What on earth's

been the row? She ain't dead, is she? How did she get here? In her

wedding-rig, too, by golly!"

Bressant's frame vibrated with a savage impulse; but Mr. Reynolds, not

being of a sensitive temperament, was not at all disconcerted.

"Well, say, I guess she'd better be fetched home, first thing," said he,

bestirring himself to arise from the chilly seat he had taken. "Lucky I

happened along, too. Guess you was hoping I might, wasn't you? Well, you

hoist her under the arms, and I'll hang on by the feet--ain't that it?

and we'll have her into the sleigh in no time."

"Don't touch her!" said the other, fiercely. "Let her alone, you drunken

fool!"

"Now, look here, Mr. Bressant," rejoined Bill Reynolds, resting his

hands on his knees, and looking intently in Bressant's face, "I may not

be rich and a swell, like you are; but I guess I'm an honest man, any

way, as much as ever you be; and I ain't insulting nobody by helping

take home a poor frozen girl. I don't care if she is engaged to you. You

don't mean to keep her here till morning do you? and seeing she ain't

married yet, I guess the right place for her to be in, is her father's

house."

Perhaps it was the moonlight, glinting on Bill's immovable eye-glasses,

that gave extraordinary impressiveness to his words; or it may have been

Bressant's reflection, that this young country bumpkin, sullied with

drink, coarse and ignorant though he was, would have probably found his

sense of equality in no way diminished, had he known more of the facts

to which the present catastrophe was a sequel; at all events, he made no

further objections. His manner changed to an almost submissive

humbleness, and, without more words, he helped Bill to place the

insensible woman in the sleigh.