He, in obedience rather to the touch than the words, turned about and walked beside her.

“I’ve a right to a sister’s privileges, you know,” continued she, slipping her hand beneath his arm, and letting it rest upon it.

How very delightful, as well as simple, to solve the problem of their intercourse on this basis!  Bressant did not know how it might feel to have a sister, but he could, at the moment, imagine nothing more delightful than to be Cornelia’s brother—­unless it were to be Sophie’s husband.  But to be both!

“Do you know,” pursued she, with apparent hesitation, looking up in his face, and then immediately looking down again, “I’ve had a notion, since coming back from New York, that you don’t like me so well as you did?”

This might be either audacity or delicacy, as one chose to take it.  Bressant, feeling himself put rather on the defensive, answered hastily and without premeditation: 

“I like you more!”

“Oh!  I’m so glad to hear you say so!” exclaimed she warmly, and as she spoke he felt her hand a little more perceptibly on his arm.  “It takes such a load off my heart! seeing you and Sophie love one another so much, I couldn’t help loving you, too, in my way; and it made me so unhappy to think I was disagreeable to you.”

Bressant was quite unprepared for all this.  Whatever had been his speculations as to the future footing upon which he and Cornelia should stand, it had been nothing like that she was now furnishing.  It did not seem at all in the vein which she had opened on the day of her return.  He was puzzled:  had he been more used to ladies’ society, he would have mistrusted her sincerity.

“You could never be disagreeable to me!” was his answer:  and he looked down at her oval cheek, with his first attempt at fraternal admiration.  It turned out badly.  She looked unexpectedly up:  his glance fell through her tawny eyes, and sank down, burning deliciously, into her heart.  She turned pale with the pain and the pleasure:  but it was such pain and pleasure that she sought, and wanted more of.

“Well, then! it’s all clear between us again—­is it?” resumed she, drawing a long breath, which sounded more like the irrepressible out-come of a tumultuous heart, than a sigh of relieved suspense upon the point in question.  “No more misunderstandings, or any thing? and you won’t get out of the way ally more, as if I were poison—­will you?”

“I never did!” protested he, laughing awkwardly.  In the last few minutes he had developed a sentiment hitherto unknown to him—­pique!  He had been imagining Cornelia in love with him, and angry at his preference for Sophie; whereas, it would now seem that the only reason she cared for him at all, was because he was Sophie’s lover:  a most correct spirit in her, no doubt; but, instead of being gratified, as was his duty, he felt provoked.

“Oh! yes, you behaved shockingly!” rejoined Cornelia, laughing with him.  “Mind!  I don’t care how devoted you are to Sophie—­the more the better; but, when you do notice me, I want you to do it kindly—­won’t you?”