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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

He saw it
would involve lowering the high integrity of her ideal conceptions
respecting delicacy and honor--hardly worth while, merely for the sake
of explaining the distinction between a trifling piece of self-deception
and mistaken vanity, and the severe and unrelenting sentence which
Sophie had passed upon herself. Meanwhile, every word she had uttered
had been an indirect, but none the less telling blow upon a sore place
in his own conscience. It was long since Professor Valeyon had stood so
low in his own self-esteem.
They sat awhile in silence, Sophie nestling up to her father as if
seeking protection from the very love that had come to her; and he
sighed, and sighed again, and coughed, and pulled his nose and his
beard, and finally blew his nose. Then, depositing Sophie upon her feet,
he got slowly up, stretched himself, and went for his pipe.
"Run off, my dear. Go up in your room, or out in the garden, or
somewhere. I must be alone a little while, you know; must think it all
over, and see how things stand. Besides, I must step in and see this
fellow who's going to rob me of my daughter, and tell him what I think
of him. Come, off with you!"
"You'll be happy about it--you'll forgive us, won't you, papa?" she
said, turning at the door.


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