Bressant looked around, in great
surprise. It was an occasion for presence of mind. Something must be
done at once.
"Hush! hold perfectly still! It was so absurd to see you sitting there,
and not knowing! There--now--still!" _Spat!_
A mosquito, which, after considerable reconnoitring, had settled upon
Bressant's broad hand, had sacrificed its life to rescue Cornelia from
her dilemma.
Bressant felt the soft, warm fingers strike smartly, and then begin to
remove, cautiously and slowly, because the mosquito was possibly not
dead after all. What was the matter with the young man? His blood and
senses seemed to quiver and tingle with a sensation at once delicious
and confusing. In the same instant, he had seized the soft, warm fingers
in both his hands, and pressed them convulsively and almost fiercely.
Cornelia very naturally cried out, and sprang to her feet. Bressant, it
would seem not so naturally, did the same thing, and with the air of
being to the full as much astonished and startled as she.
"What do you mean, sir? how dare you--?" she said, paling after her
first deep flush.
He looked at her, and then at his own hand, on which the accommodating
mosquito was artistically flattened, and then at her again, with a
slight, interrogative frown.
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