Bressant

On they walked, with the feeling of intimacy and mutual contentment

growing stronger at every moment. The ground was full of ruts and

inequalities, and ever and anon a misstep or an overbalance would cause

them involuntarily to tighten their hold upon each other;

involuntarily, but with a secret sensation of pleasure that made them

hope there were more rough places farther on. They did their best to

keep up a desultory conversation, perhaps, because they wished to spare

each other the embarrassment which silence would have caused, in leaving

the pleasant condition of affairs without a veil. When this kind of

thing first begins to be realized between young people, the enjoyment

takes on a more delicate flavor from a pretended ignoring of it.

It is beautiful to imagine them thus placed in a situation to which both

were strangers, knowing not what new delight the next moment might bring

forth. There was an element of childlikeness and innocence about it, the

more pleasing to behold in proportion as they were elevated in mind or

organization above the average of mankind.

A woman who loves thinks first of the man who has her heart; while he,

as a general rule, is primarily concerned with himself. If Bressant

wished Cornelia to be happy and loving, it was in order that he himself

might thereby be incited to greater love and happiness; but, had her

pleasure been, independent of his own, he would not have troubled

himself about it. To her, on the other hand, Bressant's well-being would

have been paramount to her own, and to be preserved, if need were, at

its sacrifice.

Even a perception, on her part, of this selfishness in him, would not

have alienated her. Selfishness in him she loves does not chill, but

augments, a woman's affection. Cornelia, already inclined to allow her

companion every thing, would have seen nothing unbecoming in his being

of the same mind himself. He could scarcely value himself so high as

she.

Meanwhile Professor Valeyon, having won his game of backgammon, hunted

up his hat, made his adieux, and went to the shed for his wagon. He

perceived a figure apparently busy in buckling Dolly between the shafts,

and, supposing it to be the ostler, called to him to know whether every

thing was ready.

"All serene, Profess'r Valeyon," responded the voice of Mr. Reynolds, as

he led Dolly--who seemed rather restive--out into the yard. "Here you

are, all fixed! I done it for you, in style. Jump in, and I'll give you

the reins."

"Is this the reason you were asking me what time I should start, Bill?"

inquired the old gentleman, as he mounted to his seat. "Very kind of

you: sure she's all right?"

"Well, I ought to know something about harnessing a mare by this time, I

guess!" responded Bill, with a good deal of dignity, as he handed up the

reins. "Well, well I no doubt--no doubt! I'm accustomed to oversee it

myself, that's all.--Steady, Dolly! Good-night."