Mother and Son

The grand ball at Abbie's was still in progress, though showing signs
of approaching dissolution, when Bressant entered the house quietly at a
side-door, and crept up to his room. He wished not to be seen or heard
by anybody; but it happened that Abbie saw him, and the sight partly
alarmed and partly relieved her. She could now account for the
mysterious disappearance of Cornelia some hours before. But why had
Bressant returned so secretly? and why were his movements all so
surreptitious? Something must be out of order, either at the Parsonage
or elsewhere. She reflected and conjectured, and of course became
momentarily more and more uneasy. Nor did a short visit to his door
relieve her apprehensions: a confused and non-descript sound had
proceeded from within, as if the young man were packing up. Whither
could he be going, she asked herself, on the very eve of his marriage?

It is never difficult to find cause for anxiety; but it seemed to Abbie
that the misgivings she entertained were reasonable and logical.
Bressant had made up his mind to desert Sophie, because the fortune
which he had all his life considered his own turned out to belong to
another, on whose generosity he was too proud or too suspicious to
depend. He was going off, either to struggle through poverty to a
fortune of his own making, or, giving himself up to his misfortune, to
remain all his life in want and misery; or, perhaps--Abbie did not
openly admit this alternative, but still, knowing what she thought she
did of his nature and the circumstances, the suspicion had
existence--perhaps, in conjunction with a certain evil-disposed person
in New York, he contemplated fraudulently absconding.