The music had flowed into Cornelia's ears until she was
full of the rhythmical harmony. She glanced up once more at her partner,
this time with a lustrous look of confidence. Was it possible that he
had become inspired through her? Certainly it seemed as if the feeling
of the tune were discernible in his face as well as hers; it was even
betokened by the lightsome pose of his figure, and a scarcely subdued
buoyancy in his step. Moment by moment did the occult sympathy between
one another and the cadence of the music grow more assured and complete;
and at length--though precisely how it came about neither Cornelia nor
Bressant could have told--they were conscious of floating through the
room, mutually supporting and leading on each other, mind and motion
pulsating with the beat of the tune, amid a bright, half-seen chaos of
lights, faces, and forms, dancing a waltz!
Neither felt any surprise at what, but a few moments before, both would
have deemed an impossibility. The easy, whirling sweep of the motion,
not ending nor beginning, seemed, to Bressant as well as to Cornelia,
the most natural thing in the world. Beautifully as she danced, he was
no whit her inferior. They moved in complete accord. Years of practice
could not have made the harmony more perfect.
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