Still, he often saw her, and always carried away a charming impression of what he saw.  Once, she had mounted a chair in the library, and was in the act of reaching down a book from a high shelf, when he entered unexpectedly.  She turned, caught his eye, and dimpled into a mischievous smile.  All day he could not drive the picture out of his head—­the bounteous, graceful form, the heavy, dark, lustreless hair, the fascinating face, and the smile.  He had but just left Sophie, yet the fine chords she had struck in him were drowned in Cornelia’s sensuous melody.

Again, one day, coming into the house, he chanced to enter the parlor, and there sat Cornelia, in an easy-chair, her feet stretched out upon a stool, fast asleep.  He came close up to her, and stood looking.  What artist could ever have hoped to reproduce the warmth, glow, and richness of color and outline?  He watched her, feeling it to be a stolen pleasure, yet a nameless something, surging up within him, compelled him to remain.  In another moment—­who can calculate a man’s strength and weakness?—­he might have stooped to kiss her, with no brother’s kiss!  But, in that moment, she awoke, and perhaps surprised his half-formed purpose in his eyes.

She was too clear-headed to regret having awaked, for she saw that he regretted it.  And, because he did not venture, she being awake, to take the kiss, she knew he was no brother, and knew not what it was to be one.  So she put on a look of annoyance, and told him petulantly to go about his business.  Off he went, and passed his hour with Sophie, who was as lovely, as fresh, and as purely transparent as ever.  But some turbid element had been stirred in Bressant’s depths, which spoiled his enjoyment for that day, making him moody and silent.

Such little incidents—­there were many of them—­were far too simple and natural to be the work of deliberation and forethought.  But Cornelia was disposed to use them, when they did occur, to her best possible advantage, and therefore they acquired potency to affect Bressant.  She wished that to be, which he had not stamina enough to oppose:  thus a subtle bond was established between them, lending a significance to the most ordinary actions, such as could never have been recognized between indifferent persons.

This was all progress for Cornelia, and she well knew it, and yet she was not at ease nor satisfied.  She began to find out that it was no such light matter to usurp the place of such a woman as Sophie, though the latter was laboring under the great disadvantage of being ignorant of the plot against her.  In most cases, indeed, the attempt would have been wellnigh hopeless, but Cornelia had two exceptionally powerful allies—­her own supreme beauty, and Bressant’s untrained and ill-regulated animal nature, which he had not yet learned to understand and provide against.  And there was another thing in her favor, too, although she knew it not—­the demoralizing effect upon the young man’s character—­of his failure to fulfil his agreement with the professor.  The evils that are in us link themselves together to drag us down, their essential quality being identical, whatever their particular application.