Cornelia Begins to Undo a Know

Bressant, to do him justice--for he was, on the whole, rather apt to be
polite than otherwise, in his way--entirely forgot the professor's
existence for the time being. He was too self-absorbed to think of other
people. He thought he was bewitched, and felt a strong and healthy
impulse to throw off the witchery before doing any thing else. He sprang
up the steps, across the balcony, traversed the hall with a quick tramp
that shook the house, snatched his hat from the old hat-tree, came down
upon the porch-step (which creaked in a paroxysm of reproach at his
unaccustomed weight), and, in another moment, stood outside the
Parsonage-gate, which, to save time, he had leaped, instead of opening.

The road was white no longer, but brown and moist. The sky overhead was
deep purple, and full of stars. The air wafted about hither and thither
in little, cool, damp puffs, which were a luxury to inhale. Bressant
drew in two or three long lungfuls; then, setting his round straw hat
more firmly on his head, he leaned slightly forward, and launched
himself into a long, swinging run.

To run gracefully and well is a rare accomplishment, for it demands a
particularly well-adjusted physical organization, great strength, and a
deep breath-reservoir. Bressant's body poised itself lightly between
the hips, and swayed slightly, but easily, from side to side at each
spring. The knees alternately caught the weight without swerving, and
shifted it, with an elastic toss, from one to the other. The feet came
down sharp and firm, and springily spurned the road in a rapid though
rhythmical succession. In a few moments, the turn around the spur of the
hill was reached, and the runner was well settled down to his pace.