Bressant

She went, for the third time that night, to Bressant's door, and this

time turned the latch and pushed it open. He was sitting at his table,

with his head on his arms. His trunk and a large iron-bound box lay

packed and strapped beneath the window, which was thrown wide open. The

rush of air between that and the door roused the young man: he got

slowly to his feet, and came forward.

"I don't want to see you," said he, with a heavy utterance. "I warn you

to go away. You and I had better have nothing to say to each other."

"We must; the time to speak has come!" she returned. "I've come to you,

because you could not bring yourself to rely on me. It's your own want

of faith--"

"You'd better not go on," interrupted Bressant, with a strange smile. "I

had more faith than you imagine. But there are some mountains that faith

can't move."

"Why do you still keep me off?" cried Abbie, in a tone which might have

made his heart bleed, except that of late it had been stabbed so often.

"Good God! am I so repulsive to you that, for the sake of being happy

and comfortable all your life, you can't bring yourself to recognize my

existence? Don't imagine I want to buy your love or toleration with this

money of mine. I want nothing in exchange--nothing! I can't help the

knowledge that I shall have made you rich, and so put happiness in your

power; but I ask no acknowledgment--no return. Take every thing and go!

Leave me here and believe that I am dead! Is that enough?"

"A great deal too much! You'll be sorry you've said all this. If you

knew what you were talking about, you wouldn't have said a word of it."

"Oh, you are hard to please, indeed!" exclaimed Abbie, gazing at him and

shuddering. "I pray God your heart is so cold to no one else as to me!

Poor Sophie! She would die at one such word."

"Don't speak her name," said Bressant, in a tone so stern as to be

equivalent to a threat.

He held his eyes down, so that the ugly gleam in them was hidden. Abbie

had no thought of fearing him as yet, and she would have her say.

"Do you think I don't know you're going to leave her? If it's because

you don't love her, I can say no more. You are beyond any help in this

world. But if you do, let me save her, even if I must oblige you in

doing it! You know little of her love, though, if you think she can be

happier with you rich than poor. Oh! are you so cold yourself as to

believe you are acting generously to her in this? Go back to her, or she

will die!"