"Who, Sophie?" exclaimed the young lady, bursting forth into an
unexpected gurgle of laughter, to which Bressant at once responded in
kind, though having no idea what the merriment was about. "I wish you
could see her! There couldn't be a greater difference if I was a negro!"
The laugh died away in Bressant's eyes, and he pressed his hand rapidly
down over his face, as if to sharpen his wits, or clear away cobwebs.
"That's natural," he remarked, reflectively. "I never saw any thing like
you."
"If he'd said 'any _body_,'" thought Cornelia, "I should have said he
meant to compliment. How funny he is! just like a boy in some ways. I
believe I know more than he does, after all!"
"Have you any sisters, Mr. Bressant?" asked she aloud, looking up at him
with more cordiality and confidence than she had yet felt or shown.
"Not any. I should think it would be a good thing. Do you like it?"
"Of course; but then I am a sister myself, so it don't apply," said
Cornelia, with the sunshine of another laugh. It was delightful to look
at her at such times; every part of her partook of the merriment, so
that her hands, feet, and waist, might all be said to laugh for
themselves. Cornelia could express a great deal more in a bodily than in
a spiritual way.
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