She was
alight with the chaste, translucent, wondering joy of a maiden before
her marriage: the delicate, pearl-tinted brightness that pales the
stars, before the reddening morning brings on the broader daylight.
She was not of those who, in fair weather, are on the lookout for rain:
she believed that God had plenty of sunshine, and was generous of it;
and that the possibilities of bliss were unlimited. She was not afraid
to be perfectly happy. A little sunny spot, in a valley, which no shadow
has crossed all day long, was like her: there seemed to be nothing in
her soul that needed shadow to set it right.
Cheerfulness was soon reestablished, therefore, so far as she was
concerned; and the remembrance of Cornelia's distracting seizure
presently yielded to the throng of light-footed thoughts that were ever
knocking for admittance at her heart's door. Once afterward, however,
the event was recalled to her memory, by the revelation of its cause.
Little that happens in our lives would seem trifling to us, could we but
trace it, forward or backward, to the end.
CHAPTER XXVI.
BRESSANT TAKES A VACATION.
Friday, December 30th, was the day appointed for Abbie's ball, and the
morning of the 28th had already dawned. Bressant stood, with his arms
folded, at the window of his room, watching the downfall of a thickening
snow-storm which had set in the previous midnight.
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