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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

No preconceived and elaborated programme can come up to the
inspiration of the moment, which is genius. Such felicitous wording of
subject-matter so objectionable: such an unassailable presentation of so
indefensible a principle--could hardly have been the fruit of
premeditation. Cornelia was allowing things to take their course.
"It isn't disagreeable! it's--" Bressant broke off, unable or unprepared
to say what it was. "Why must we forget it?" he added, with a
half-assured look of significance. "You said we were brother and sister,
you know!"
She laughed in his face, at the same time drawing her hand from his arm,
and stepping away from him. How tantalizingly lovely she looked!
"It won't do to carry the privileges of relationship too far, my dear
sir! at least, not until after you're married. There! go back to your
Sophie--I didn't mean to keep you so long--really! No, no!" as he made
an offer to approach her; "go! and be quick, I advise you. Good-by!"
Bressant, as he walked on to the Parsonage, was possessed by an
undefined conviction that he was learning a great deal not set down in
the books. The page of the passions, once thrown open, seems to comprise
every thing. The world has but one voice for the man of one idea.


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