ncied, for she did not meet his
look, being herself conscious of a sort of irregularity of the breath
and pulse attending these contacts, which she could not understand, and
did not feel altogether at ease about. Certainly, there was something
odd in this Bressant! Cornelia hardly knew whether he strongly repelled
or powerfully attracted her. She had half a mind to run back to the
house.

At this moment, however, they arrived at the fountain, and stood
silently contemplating its weak, persistent struggles. The heavy rain
had not raised its spirits a whit; but neither had it lessened its sense
of duty to be performed. It labored just as hard if not harder than
ever.

Presently Bressant walked round to the opposite side of the basin, shook
himself and stamped his feet, like one overcoming a feeling of
drowsiness, and then, stooping down, put his hand in the water and
brought some up to his forehead. It passed through Cornelia's mind that
she had read in her "Natural Philosophy," at school, that water was a
good conductor of electricity, but she could not establish any clear
connection between her remembrance of this fact and Bressant's action.
The results of thoughts often present themselves to us when the
processes remain invisible.

"What an absurd little fountain!" observed he, coming round again to
Cornelia, and looking down upon her with a smile that seemed to call for
a responsive one from her. "What is the use of it?"

"Oh, we're used to it, you know; and then that little sound it makes is
pleasant to listen to."

"Is it?" said Bressant, apparently struck by the idea. "I should like to
hear it. 'A pleasant sound!' I never thought of a sound being pleasant."

"Poor fellow!" thought Cornelia again, with a strong impulse of
compassion and kindliness. "What a dreary life, not even to know that
sounds were beautiful! I suppose all the voices he hears must be harsh
and unnatural, and those are the only kinds of sounds he would attend
to." Looking at him from this new point of view, the feeling of mistrust
and uncertainty of a few minutes before was forgotten. Standing near the
margin of the basin was a rustic bench fantastically made of curved and
knotted branches, the back and arms contrived in rude scroll-work, and
the seat made of round transverse pieces, through whose interstices the
rain-water had passed, leaving it comparatively dry. Cornelia sat down
upon it and motioned Bressant to take his place by her si