"But, afterward," he went on, his voice lowering for an instant, "I saw
an angel--something above all the flowers of this world--and I was fool
enough to imagine she would suit me better still. You never thought so,
did you, Cornelia?" he added, with a half laugh; "well--you should have
told me!"
How he dragged her up and down, and struck her where she was most
defenseless! Did he do it on purpose, or unconsciously?
"I mistook worship for love--that was the trouble, I fancy. Luckily, I
found out in time it won't do to love what is highest--it can only make
one mad. Love what you can understand--that's the way! See how wise I've
become."
Bressant's laugh affected Cornelia like a deadly drug. Her speech was
fettered, and she moved without her own will or guidance.
"I found out--just in time--that I needed more body and less soul--less
goodness and--more Cornelia!" he concluded, epigrammatically.
So this was her position. It could hardly be more humiliating. Yet how
could she rebel? for was not the yoke of her own manufacture? Indeed,
had she been put to it, she might have found it a difficult matter to
distinguish between the actual relation now subsisting between Bressant
and herself, and that which she had been, for months past, striving to
effect.
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