What she could not understand in him
was, of course, beyond her scope.
"You may think nothing of it, but I know I--I know we do--I can't say
what I want to, and I'm not going to try any more; but I'm sure you
know--or, at least, you'll find out some time--in some other way, you
know."
Bressant could not hear all this, nor would he have known what it meant,
if he had; but he could see that Cornelia was kindly disposed toward
him, and was conscious of great pleasure in looking at her, and thought,
if she were to touch him, he would get well. He said nothing, however,
and presently his bodily pain caused him to sigh and close his eyes
wearily. Cornelia immediately kissed her soft fingers to him twice, and
then vanished from the room, looking more like a blush than a tea rose.
Before long she returned with the sick man's breakfast on a tray.
"Do you like to be nursed?" asked she, as she put the tray on a table,
and moved it up to the bedside.
"No!" said Bressant, emphatically, and with an intonation of great
surprise.
"Oh! why not?" faltered Cornelia, quite taken aback.
"I hate disabled people; they're monstrosities, and had better not be at
all. I wouldn't nurse them."
"You think there's no pleasure in doing things for people who cannot
help themselves?" demanded Cornelia, indignantly.
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