onflict as violent as it was
brief; "I'll lead the horse myself." The only pleasure now left to this
young man was to insult and torture himself to the utmost of his
ingenuity. He had forfeited all right to protect or care for Sophie, and
it was with a savage satisfaction that he resigned it to Bill Reynolds,
as being the worthier and better man. It was the quixoticism of
self-degradation, but was doubtless not without some wholesome
influence.

In three minutes more they were at the Parsonage-gate. They made a
stretcher of the sleigh-robe, and carried Sophie in on it. The gate,
flapping-to behind them, sounded like a fretful and querulous complaint.
As they mounted the porch-steps, which creaked and crackled beneath
their weight, the door was opened by Cornelia, in her travelling-dress.
Her face expressed so vividly the unspeakable horror which she felt as
her eyes rested on her sister's half-opened lids, that Bressant, seeing
it, was stricken anew with the perception of his own misery. As Cornelia
looked up from the pure and innocent features--which never had worn an
awful and forbidding expression until now, when all power of expression
was gone--her glance and Bressant's met; but, after a moment's
encounter, both dropped their eyes, with an involuntary shudder. Their
trial and sentence were condensed into so seemingly brief a space.

But Bill Reynolds neither dealt in nor appreciated such refinements upon
the good old ways of communicating sentiments.

"Good-evening, Miss Valeyon," exclaimed he. "I guess we didn't expect to
see one another again to-night. Pray don't imagine, miss, that I bear
you any grudge. At times like this personal considerations don't
count--not with me. I'll shake hands with you, Miss Valeyon, first
chance I get, and we'll be just as much friends as ever we was before.
That's the right way, I guess."

The door of the guest-chamber stood open, and the sleigh-robe, with its
burden, was laid upon the bed whereon Bressant had spent so many weary
days. Then the voice of the professor, who had been awakened by the
noise and the sound of feet, was heard from the top of the stairs,
demanding to know what was the matter.

"Come down," said Bressant, stepping to the guest-chamber door. "Be
quick!"

He spoke more slowly and deeply than was his wont. In spite--or perhaps
in consequence--of his abasement, forlornness, and unworthiness, he
showed a dignity and impressiveness which were novel in him.