"When did papa say he was coming?" asked she, as they moved through the passage-way to the door.
"He was playing backgammon; he said he should be through in ten minutes; he would probably overtake us before we got to the Parsonage," replied the young man.
"I hope he'll be all safe!" said Cornelia, half to herself, the vague feeling of uneasiness still working within her.
At the door they were met by Abbie, who bade them good-night, with the same expression upon her lips and in her eyes that she had worn when presenting them to one another early in the evening.
"Take good care of each other, my children," said she, as they passed out; but her tone was so low as to be audible to Cornelia alone.
CHAPTER XII.
DOLLY ACTS AN IMPORTANT PART.
The faintest of breezes wafted in the young people's faces as they descended the wooden steps of the boarding-house and passed along the dark, deserted sidewalk of the village street. The noisy dance was soon left at a distance; how extravagant and unnatural it seemed in comparison with the deep, sweet night in which they were losing themselves!
The brightness of the stars, and the wavering peaks and jagged edges of the northern lights, brought out the shadows of the uneven hills, and revealed the winding length of downy mist which kept the stream in the valley warm. Such was the stillness, and the subdued tone of the landscape, that it seemed unreal--the phantom of a world which had lost its sunshine, and was mourning for it in gentle melancholy.
The sense of the solitude around them brought the young man and woman closer to one another. For enjoyment to be, mortally speaking, perfect, it needs that a soft and dreamy element of sadness should be added to it; and this was given by the gracious influence of the night. The darkness, too, encouraged the germs of that mutual reliance, hopefulness, and trust, which combine to build up the more vital and profound relations of life. There is a magic mystery and power in it, which we can laugh at in the sunshine, but whose reality, at times, forces itself upon us mightily.
As Bressant trod onward, with the warm and lovely woman living and moving at his side, and clinging to his arm with a dainty pressure, just perceptible enough to make him wish it were a little closer--it entered his mind to marvel at the tender change that seemed to have come over familiar things.
"I've walked often in the night, before," observed he, looking around him, and then at Cornelia; "on the same road, too; but it never made me feel as now. It is beautiful." He used the word with a doubtful intonation, as if unaccustomed to it, and not quite sure whether he were applying it correctly.
"You speak as if you didn't know what you were talking about!" said Cornelia, with a round, melodious laugh. "Did you never see or care for any thing beautiful before this evening?"
"You remember that night in the garden?" asked Bressant, abruptly. "I've learned a great deal since then. I couldn't understand it at the moment; I wasn't prepared for it--understand? but I know now--it was beauty--I saw it and felt it--and it drove me out of myself."
Cornelia was thrilled, half with fear and half with delight. Bressant spoke with an almost fierce sincerity and earnestness of conviction, that quite overbore the shield of playful incredulity which woman instinctively raises on such occasions; they seemed to have crossed, at one step, the pale of conventionalities; and, sweet and alluring as the outer wilderness may be, it is wilderness still, and full of sudden precipices. Besides, the very energy and impetuosity which the young man showed, suggested the apprehension that the power of his newly-awakened emotions was greater than his ability to control and manage them.
But beauty, as he understood it, was something of deeper and wider significance than that generally accepted. It was all, in mankind and nature, that appeals to and gratifies the senses and sensuous emotions. Cornelia had been the door through which he had passed into a consciousness of its existence; the fragrant pass leading to the mighty valley. Unfortunately neither he nor she was in a position to comprehend this fact: she was no metaphysical casuist, and never imagined but that he would find the end, as well as the beginning of his newly-opened world in her; and he, dizzied by the tumult and novelty of the vision, was naturally disposed to attribute most value and importance to the only element in it of which he had as yet taken any real and definite cognizance.
"What a strange, one-sided life you must have had!" Cornelia remarked, after they had walked a little way in silence. "Don't you think you'll be happier for having found the other side out?"
Bressant started, and did not immediately reply. Thus far he had looked upon this unexpected enlargement of feeling as merely a temporary episode, after all; not any thing permanently to affect the predetermined course and conduct of his life. The idea that it was to round out and perfect his existence--that he was to find his highest happiness in it--had never for a moment occurred to him. He did not believe it possible that it could coexist with lofty aims and strenuous effort; it was a weakness--a delicious one--but still a weakness, and ultimately to be trampled under foot.
But Cornelia had taken the ground that it was the half of life--not only that, but the better and more desirable half. For the first time it dawned upon the young man, that he might be obliged to decide between following out the high and ascetic ambition which had guided his life thus far, and abandoning, or at least lowering it, to take in that other part of which Cornelia was the incarnation. The prospect drove the blood to his heart and left him pale. He would not entertain it yet. Had he not promised himself to let this one night go by?
"It would be a very sweet happiness, if I were sure of finding it," said he; and Cornelia, turning this answer over in her foolish heart, made a great deal out of it, and was thankful for the darkness that veiled her face. But Bressant was hardly far advanced enough in the art of affection to make a graceful use of double meanings; and most likely Cornelia might have spared herself the blush.
Nevertheless, the young man was more deeply involved than he suspected. That magnetic sympathy could not otherwise have existed between him and his companion. The music could not have sounded through her sense to his, nor her whisper have penetrated the barrier of his infirmity, unless something akin to love had been the interpreter and guide; and not a one-sided something, either.
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