"There's a good deal to amuse yourself with besides dancing.

The school-master will be there, and the minister that is now, and Professor Valeyon." "Professor Valeyon ?" repeated Bressant, leaning forward, with his hand to his ear, and the vivid, questioning expression on his face, which was peculiar to himself.
The movement appeared to produce a disproportionate effect upon Abbie.
Her finger tremblingly sought her under lip; a quiver, as if from a sudden pain, passed across her forehead; there was a momentary unsteadiness in her eyes, and then they fastened, almost rigidly, upon the young man's face.

So habitual was the woman's self-control, however, that these symptoms, whatever they betokened, were repressed and annulled, till none, save a particularly sharp-sighted person, would have noticed them.

Bressant was thinking only of Professor Valeyon, and would scarcely have troubled himself, in any case, about the neuralgic spasms of his landlady.
"The professor and Miss Valeyon will both come," said Abbie, as soon as the neuralgia, if that it were, would allow her to speak.

"Excuse me, sir--may I sit down a moment ?" These words were uttered hurriedly, and, at the same moment, the woman made a sudden step to the lounge, and dropped down upon it so abruptly that the venerable springs creaked again.
"Beg your pardon, ma'am," said Bressant, rather awkwardly.