Bressant

Every few minutes--oftener than any circumstances could have

warranted--she pulled a handsome gold watch out of her belt and

consulted it. She did not, to be sure, seem solely anxious to know the

hour; she bent down and examined the enameled face minutely; watched

the second-hand make its tiny circuit; pressed the smooth crystal

against her cheek; listened to the ceaseless beating of its little

golden heart. That golden heart, it seemed to her, was a connecting link

between Bressant's and her own. He had set it going, and it should be

her care that it never stopped; for at the hour in which it ran

down--such was Cornelia's superstitious idea--some lamentable misfortune

would surely come to pass.

The dinner-bell sounded; she put her watch back into her belt, bestowing

a loving little pat upon it, by way of temporary adieu. Then, feeling

pretty hungry, she ran down the broad, soft-carpeted stairs, with their

wide mahogany banisters--she would have sat upon the latter and slid

down if she had dared--and entering the dining-room, which was furnished

throughout with yellow oak, even to the polished floor, she took her

place by her hostess's side. She had already been presented to the

fashionable guests who sat around the ample table, and a good deal of

the awe which she had felt in anticipation, had begun to ooze away.

Although much was said that was unintelligible to her, she could see

that this was not the result of intellectual deficiency on her part, but

merely of an ignorance of the ground on which the conversation was

founded. As Cornelia stole glances at the faces, pretty or pretentious,

of the young ladies, or at the mustaches, whiskers, or carefully-parted

hair of the young gentlemen, it did not seem to her that she could call

herself essentially the inferior of any one of them. As to what they

thought of her, she could only conjecture; but the gentlemen were

extravagantly polite--according to her primitive ideas of that

much-abused virtue--and the ladies were smiling, full of pretty

attitudes, small questions, and accentuated comments. No one of them,

nor of the young men either, seemed to be very hungry; but Cornelia had

her usual unexceptionable appetite, and ate stoutly to satisfy it; she

even tasted a glass of Italian wine at dessert, upon the assurance of

Aunt Margaret that "she must--really must--it would never do to come

to New York without learning how to drink wine, you know;" and upon the

word of the young gentleman who sat next to her that it wouldn't hurt

her a bit--all wines were medicinal--Italian wines especially so; and

so, indeed, it proved, for Cornelia thought she had never felt so genial

a glow of sparkling life in her veins. She was good-natured enough to

laugh at any thing, and brilliant enough to make anybody else laugh; and

the evening passed away most pleasantly.