Bressant

"My darling!" said Sophie, with another hug. She felt rebuked and

remorseful; for if, as Cornelia's words unconsciously implied, her

sympathy was unexpected, it would appear she had gained a reputation for

coldness and indifference which she was far from coveting. It often

happens, certainly, that those whom we consider intellectually beneath

us, and whom, supposing them too dull to comprehend the evolutions of

our minds, we occasionally use for our amusement, possess an instinctive

insight far keener than that of experience, enabling them to read our

very souls with an accuracy which puts our self-knowledge to the blush,

and might quite turn the tables upon us, could they themselves but

appreciate their power.

"But tell me all about it," resumed Sophie; "all the particulars. And

then we'll discuss the dresses. Dear me! I long to get to work upon

them."

As a matter of fact, Cornelia had very few particulars to tell: all she

knew was the simple fact she had already stated. But it needed only a

small spark to enkindle her imagination; she plunged at once into a

perfect flower-garden of bright thoughts and rainbow fancies;

foreshadowed her whole journey from the arrival in New York to the

latest grand ball and conquest; glowed over the horses, the houses, and

the people; speculated profoundly in possible romances and romantic

possibilities, and became so eloquent in a pretty, half-childish,

half-womanish way she had, that Sophie's eyes shone, and she told

herself that Neelie was the dearest, cunningest sister in the world.

From these glorious imaginings they descended--or ascended, perhaps--to

the dresses, and then Sophie's low, steady voice mingled with Cornelia's

rich, strenuous one, like pure water with red wine. Cornelia paced the

little room backward and forward--she could never keep still when she

was talking about what interested her, and now paused by the window, now

before the mantel-piece, now leaned for a moment on the foot-board of

Sophie's bed. She was very happy; indeed, this may have been the

happiest hour of her life, past or to come. We all have our happiest

hour, probably; and not always shall we find that happiness to have been

caused by higher or less selfish considerations than those which

animated Cornelia Valeyon.

During one of her visits to the window, she was arrested by the vision

of an unknown young man coining up the road. She at once became silent.

"What is it?" demanded Sophie, presently.

"Some man--a new one--a gentleman--awfully big!" reported Cornelia, in

detached sentences, with a look between each one.

"As big as Bill Reynolds?" asked Sophie, with a twinkle in her face.

"How absurd, Sophie! Bill Reynolds, indeed! He isn't up to this man's

shoulder. Besides, this is a gentleman, and--oh!" exclaimed Cornelia,

breaking off suddenly, and drawing back a step from the window.

"Has the gentleman had an accident?" inquired Sophie, still twinkling.