A mosquito, which, after considerable reconnoitring, had settled upon
Bressant's broad hand, had sacrificed its life to rescue Cornelia from
her dilemma.
Bressant felt the soft, warm fingers strike smartly, and then begin to
remove, cautiously and slowly, because the mosquito was possibly not
dead after all. What was the matter with the young man? His blood and
senses seemed to quiver and tingle with a sensation at once delicious
and confusing. In the same instant, he had seized the soft, warm fingers
in both his hands, and pressed them convulsively and almost fiercely.
Cornelia very naturally cried out, and sprang to her feet. Bressant, it
would seem not so naturally, did the same thing, and with the air of
being to the full as much astonished and startled as she.
"What do you mean, sir? how dare you--?" she said, paling after her
first deep flush.
He looked at her, and then at his own hand, on which the accommodating
mosquito was artistically flattened, and then at her again, with a
slight, interrogative frown.
"How did it happen? What was it? I didn't mean it!"
Cornelia was quite at a loss what to do or say under such extraordinary
circumstances. She felt short of breath and indignant; but she had never
heard of a young man's questioning a lady as to how he had come to take
a liberty with her. As she stood thus confounded, her unfortunate
perception of the ludicrous betrayed her once more; but this time her
recent shock played a part in it, and came very near producing a bad fit
of hysterics. Bressant looked on without a word or a motion.
In less than a minute, for Cornelia's nerves were very strong, and had
never been overtaxed, she had regained command of herself. Bressant was
standing between her and the house, and she pointed up the path.
"Please go home as quickly as possible."
Off he walked, with every symptom of readiness and relief. Cornelia
followed after, but, when she reached the house, she found her papa
staring inquiringly out of his study-door; the uncanny pupil in divinity
had disappeared.