length she dropped her eyes, and, with nimble fingers and
swiftly-applied hair-pins, wound up her hair into its nocturnal knot.
She removed her ear-rings and rings, and put them into the vase; but
here reverie overtook her once more, and held her in a meditative
half-smile, until consciousness revived, and startled the blood into her
cheeks. She walked over to her little sofa, with dispatch and business
in her step, and sat down to unlace her boots.

There is something in these little ever-recurring actions,
however--these things which we do so often as to do them
unconsciously--which predisposes to thought and reflection. Cornelia,
having untied the knot, had not got farther than the fourth hole from
the top, her eyes meanwhile wandering slowly around the picturesque but
rather disorderly little room, before she became dreamily interested in
watching the shadow of a neck-scarf she had hung upon the support of the
looking-glass, projected upon the wall by the flickering light of the
candle. As she looked, her fingers began to labor upon the boot-lace,
and her eyes grew gradually larger and darker. Occasionally there were
little quiverings of the upper and under lids, barely perceptible
movements of the tip of the nose and the nostrils, and twitching at the
mouth-corners. By-and-by the twitchings resolved themselves into a
smile, very faint and far away at first, but broadening and brightening
every moment; now, the dimples were visible at half a glance, and now,
upon the still air of the chamber, there rippled forth--

Cornelia put her hand to her mouth, and gave a quick, furtive glance
over her shoulder, as if in fear lest some one might have overheard her.
She recollected with some relief that the door was locked at any rate,
and the curtains down. But, for all that, as she realized what she had
been thinking about, and how very far her papa or Sophie would be from
laughing if they were told about it, she felt her cheeks tingle, and
could not be busy enough with that boot-lace!

There! that was off; now for the other. What a queer man he was, though!
Could all that have been put on in the garden--pretending he didn't
know! (This was such a tiresome old knot!) If she only hadn't been such
a goose and laughed--what must he think? What could have been the reason
he rushed off in such a hurry? Probably was afraid she'd tell papa, and
then he couldn't be his pupil. Suppose she should tell! that would be
mean, though. Pe