But Bressant, if he were a child in the world of the affections, was, in
other respects, a man of exceptional shrewdness and comprehensive
ability. Although he had never as yet turned his attention to business
matters, he had every faculty and instinct required to make a successful
business-man. When he found his own interests deeply at stake, he may
have had more than one motive for wishing to secure to himself a clear
field. But Professor Valeyon was still as simple-hearted a soul--as
quick to trust wherever his sympathies dictated--as ever in his younger
days.
Bressant did not intend to deceive him, but then he had no irrevocably
settled plans. He was not one of those who follow blindfold the
promptings of any principle, simply because it chances to be a lofty
one. Although passionate, and hot of blood, he could believe that the
greatest good might be made not inconsistent with the greatest comfort.
He undoubtedly intended to do what honor, generosity, and his future
father-in-law, urged him to do; but it was less from an abstract love of
virtue, than from an overmastering unwillingness to give up Sophie (his
affection for whom was the most deeply-seated necessity of his nature--a
fact which must be borne in mind through all that follows), and
also--this was likewise a consideration of the greatest weight; indeed,
Sophie alone counted for more--also, from a very confident conviction
that, after every thing had been accomplished, according to the highest
dictates of truth, and justice, and all that--he would not, to all
intents and purposes, lose his fortune after all; that, whatever might
be the legal disposition of it, all the enjoyments and benefits that it
could confer would still be his, with the additional grace of having
acted in a most lofty and self-sacrificing spirit; that, in short, and
to use a homely illustration, he would be able to give away his cake and
eat it too.
After being safely landed at the boarding-house--Abbie was not at home
at the moment--Bressant bade farewell to the professor, and, assisted by
the fat Irish servant-girl, carried his box up to his room. It was
neatly swept, dusted, and put in order; a bunch of fresh flowers upon
the table; others, in pots, upon the window-sill. Their fragrance gave a
delicate tone to the atmosphere of the room, and perhaps penetrated more
nearly to Bressant's heart than an hour full of unanswerable arguments
and exhortations. He turned to the fat servant, who stood smiling, and
wiping her hands on her apron.
"Who brought these flowers? Who arranged them here?"
"Sure, and wasn't it Abbie herself!" replied the functionary, giving her
mistress her Christian name, with true democratic freedom. "More than
that; isn't it herself has swept out the room every week, let alone
dusting of it every day of her life! which is not mentioning that the
flowers has been exchanged every day likewise, and fresh put in place of
them, by reason that the old shouldn't fade; which is a fact
unprecedented, and unbeknown in my experience, which have been in this
house nine year come St. Patrick's day--God bless him!"