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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

Oh, I've seen them lower than that in New
York!"
"But there'll be nothing like it here, dear, I'm sure. Think how
frightened poor Bill Reynolds will be when he sees you."
Sophie looked up, expecting to see her sister smile; but she, having in
view the opinion of quite another person than Mr. Reynolds, remained
unusually grave.
"Don't mind me, dear," Sophie added, fearing she might have given
offense. "You know I'd rather see you look well than myself, especially
as I may not be here to see you another year."
She drew a long breath of happy regret, thinking of what was to follow
the next day but one after the ball.
Cornelia, looking into the fire, her pure, round chin resting on her
bent forefinger, started, as the same thought entered her mind. Was it
so near, though--that marriage? or would an eternity elapse ere Bressant
and Sophie called one another husband and wife?
"Are you glad the day comes so soon, Sophie?"
"Yes," answered she, with quiet simplicity. "A few weeks ago it
frightened me--it seemed so near; but not now. I love him much more than
I did--that's one reason. And he loves me more, I think."
"Loves you more! why? what makes you think so?" demanded Cornelia, a
frown quivering across her forehead.


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