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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

In the first
place, if he loved her sister, it did not therefore follow that he
disliked her; quite the contrary. And, on the other hand, it readily
explained the restraint and embarrassment of his manner. How otherwise
could he have acted? Well--and was this all?
Ah! no--not all! There was a tawny light in Cornelia's eyes as she lay
upon the bed, flushed and dishevelled. She was thinking of a
moment--that one little moment--when their glances had met, and
penetrated to a fatal depth. For a time, the ensuing events had swept it
from her memory; but now it returned, charged with a deeper and darker
meaning than Cornelia at present cared to recognize. She was satisfied
that it gave her comfort. She hid her thought away, as a miser does his
gold: it was enough that it had existence, and could be used when the
fitting hour should come. She had not seen the little episode of the
watch; but that was, perhaps, scarcely necessary.
The intensity of the beautiful woman's reflections at length exhausted
her mind's power of maintaining them: she turned over on her side, and
began to follow with her eye the arabesques worked upon the white
counterpane. It was just the sort of occupation which suited her mood.
The arabesques were pretty and graceful; the counterpane was of
immaculate whiteness; there was just enough of effort in tracing out the
intricacies of the interlacements to give a gentle sensation of
pleasure; and there was the latent consciousness, behind this voluntary
trifling, that it could be exchanged at any moment for the most terribly
real and absorbing excitement.


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