It thus happened
that, although seldom exchanging a word with her, he was continually
receiving fresh reminders of her, in one way or another; and he was,
moreover, haunted by an idea that Cornelia was not unconscious that he
was observing her.
Two or three days subsequent to Cornelia's conversation with Sophie on
the hill-top, Bressant, on his afternoon way to the Parsonage, met the
former coming in the opposite direction. It was nearly at the end of the
long level stretch, which was now resplendent with many-colored maples,
which were interspersed at short intervals between the willows. He had
been walking; swiftly with his eyes on the ground, when, chancing to
raise them, lie saw Cornelia walking on toward him.
How beautifully she trod, erect, her round chin held in, stepping
daintily yet firmly; it seemed as if the earth were an elastic sphere
beneath her feet, she moving tirelessly onward. She had plucked a branch
of gorgeous leaves from one of the maples, which she brandished about
ever and anon, to keep the flies away. A straw hat, narrow-brimmed,
slanted downward over hair and forehead. Her oval cheeks were more than
usually luminous from exercise; her eyes were bright tawny brown, the
lids shaped in curves, like the edges of a leaf.
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