Perhaps because he was so pale and helpless; perhaps the old argument--"it's his way--he don't know it isn't customary;" perhaps--for this also must have a place--perhaps from a fear lest he should make no attempt to regain it.

She felt his bearded lips press against it.

At the touch, a sudden weakness, a self-pitying sensation, came over her, and the tears started to her eyes.
"No one ever did that before to me," she said, almost plaintively, for he had spoken no justifying words, and she was balancing between a remorseful timidity and a timid exultation.
"It's the first kiss I ever gave," said he, and his own voice vibrated.
"Are you angry?
it shall be the last if you are." "Oh, I'm not angry," faltered poor Cornelia; and then she felt, or seemed to feel, a force drawing her down--scarcely perceptible, yet strong as death.

She bent her lovely glowing face, with its tearful eyes and fragrant breath, close down to Bressant's.
At that very moment, or even an incalculable instant before, the professor's voice was heard calling loudly from without: "Come--come! be quick! you'll be too late!" She rose and fled from the room; but it was too late, indeed..