Bressant

"Is it love?" he said, in a smothered tone that was scarcely more than a

whisper. He was beaten down and overawed by the might and grandeur of

the passion which, growing in his own breast, had become a giant that

swayed and swept all things before it.

"Yes--love!" said Sophie, in a voice like the soft ring of a silver

trumpet. Her heart was steadied and strengthened by what mastered him.

"Love--it is above every thing else. It has brought me down so

low--perhaps, through God's mercy, it is the path by which I may rise

again. You will guide me, dear?"

And, with a gesture of divine humility, she put her hand in his, and

looked down, with the smile brightening mistily in her eyes.

At that moment--recalled, perhaps, by a chance similarity in position,

gesture, or expression--came over him, like a sudden chill and darkness,

the memory of his last interview with Cornelia.