On they walked, with the feeling of intimacy and mutual contentment
growing stronger at every moment. The ground was full of ruts and
inequalities, and ever and anon a misstep or an overbalance would cause
them involuntarily to tighten their hold upon each other;
involuntarily, but with a secret sensation of pleasure that made them
hope there were more rough places farther on. They did their best to
keep up a desultory conversation, perhaps, because they wished to spare
each other the embarrassment which silence would have caused, in leaving
the pleasant condition of affairs without a veil. When this kind of
thing first begins to be realized between young people, the enjoyment
takes on a more delicate flavor from a pretended ignoring of it.
It is beautiful to imagine them thus placed in a situation to which both
were strangers, knowing not what new delight the next moment might bring
forth. There was an element of childlikeness and innocence about it, the
more pleasing to behold in proportion as they were elevated in mind or
organization above the average of mankind.
A woman who loves thinks first of the man who has her heart; while he,
as a general rule, is primarily concerned with himself. If Bressant
wished Cornelia to be happy and loving, it was in order that he himself
might thereby be incited to greater love and happiness; but, had her
pleasure been, independent of his own, he would not have troubled
himself about it. To her, on the other hand, Bressant's well-being would
have been paramount to her own, and to be preserved, if need were, at
its sacrifice.
Even a perception, on her part, of this selfishness in him, would not
have alienated her. Selfishness in him she loves does not chill, but
augments, a woman's affection. Cornelia, already inclined to allow her
companion every thing, would have seen nothing unbecoming in his being
of the same mind himself. He could scarcely value himself so high as
she.
Meanwhile Professor Valeyon, having won his game of backgammon, hunted
up his hat, made his adieux, and went to the shed for his wagon. He
perceived a figure apparently busy in buckling Dolly between the shafts,
and, supposing it to be the ostler, called to him to know whether every
thing was ready.
"All serene, Profess'r Valeyon," responded the voice of Mr. Reynolds, as
he led Dolly--who seemed rather restive--out into the yard. "Here you
are, all fixed! I done it for you, in style. Jump in, and I'll give you
the reins."
"Is this the reason you were asking me what time I should start, Bill?"
inquired the old gentleman, as he mounted to his seat. "Very kind of
you: sure she's all right?"
"Well, I ought to know something about harnessing a mare by this time, I
guess!" responded Bill, with a good deal of dignity, as he handed up the
reins. "Well, well I no doubt--no doubt! I'm accustomed to oversee it
myself, that's all.--Steady, Dolly! Good-night."