Bressant

But beauty, as he understood it, was something of deeper and wider

significance than that generally accepted. It was all, in mankind and

nature, that appeals to and gratifies the senses and sensuous emotions.

Cornelia had been the door through which he had passed into a

consciousness of its existence; the fragrant pass leading to the mighty

valley. Unfortunately neither he nor she was in a position to comprehend

this fact: she was no metaphysical casuist, and never imagined but that

he would find the end, as well as the beginning of his newly-opened

world in her; and he, dizzied by the tumult and novelty of the vision,

was naturally disposed to attribute most value and importance to the

only element in it of which he had as yet taken any real and definite

cognizance.

"What a strange, one-sided life you must have had!" Cornelia remarked,

after they had walked a little way in silence. "Don't you think you'll

be happier for having found the other side out?"

Bressant started, and did not immediately reply. Thus far he had looked

upon this unexpected enlargement of feeling as merely a temporary

episode, after all; not any thing permanently to affect the

predetermined course and conduct of his life. The idea that it was to

round out and perfect his existence--that he was to find his highest

happiness in it--had never for a moment occurred to him. He did not

believe it possible that it could coexist with lofty aims and strenuous

effort; it was a weakness--a delicious one--but still a weakness, and

ultimately to be trampled under foot.

But Cornelia had taken the ground that it was the half of life--not only

that, but the better and more desirable half. For the first time it

dawned upon the young man, that he might be obliged to decide between

following out the high and ascetic ambition which had guided his life

thus far, and abandoning, or at least lowering it, to take in that other

part of which Cornelia was the incarnation. The prospect drove the blood

to his heart and left him pale. He would not entertain it yet. Had he

not promised himself to let this one night go by?

"It would be a very sweet happiness, if I were sure of finding it," said

he; and Cornelia, turning this answer over in her foolish heart, made a

great deal out of it, and was thankful for the darkness that veiled her

face. But Bressant was hardly far advanced enough in the art of

affection to make a graceful use of double meanings; and most likely

Cornelia might have spared herself the blush.

Nevertheless, the young man was more deeply involved than he suspected.

That magnetic sympathy could not otherwise have existed between him and

his companion. The music could not have sounded through her sense to

his, nor her whisper have penetrated the barrier of his infirmity,

unless something akin to love had been the interpreter and guide; and

not a one-sided something, either.