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diff --git a/978-h/978-h.htm b/978-h/978-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2489c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/978-h/978-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1626 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Yates Pride, by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yates Pride, by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Yates Pride + +Author: Mary E. Wilkins Freeman + +Release Date: August 10, 2008 [EBook #978] +Last Updated: November 6, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YATES PRIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE YATES PRIDE + </h1> + <h2> + A ROMANCE + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> PART II </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I + </h2> + <p> + Opposite Miss Eudora Yates’s old colonial mansion was the perky modern + Queen Anne residence of Mrs. Joseph Glynn. Mrs. Glynn had a daughter, + Ethel, and an unmarried sister, Miss Julia Esterbrook. All three were fond + of talking, and had many callers who liked to hear the feebly effervescent + news of Wellwood. This afternoon three ladies were there: Miss Abby + Simson, Mrs. John Bates, and Mrs. Edward Lee. They sat in the Glynn + sitting-room, which shrilled with treble voices as if a flock of sparrows + had settled therein. + </p> + <p> + The Glynn sitting-room was charming, mainly because of the quantity of + flowering plants. Every window was filled with them, until the room seemed + like a conservatory. Ivy, too, climbed over the pictures, and the + mantel-shelf was a cascade of wandering Jew, growing in old china vases. + </p> + <p> + “Your plants are really wonderful, Mrs. Glynn,” said Mrs. Bates, “but I + don’t see how you manage to get a glimpse of anything outside the house, + your windows are so full of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe she can see and not be seen,” said Abby Simson, who had a quick wit + and a ready tongue. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Joseph Glynn flushed a little. “I have not the slightest curiosity + about my neighbors,” she said, “but it is impossible to live just across + the road from any house without knowing something of what is going on, + whether one looks or not,” said she, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Ma and I never look out of the windows from curiosity,” said Ethel Glynn, + with spirit. Ethel Glynn had a great deal of spirit, which was evinced in + her personal appearance as well as her tongue. She had an eye to the + fashions; her sleeves were never out of date, nor was the arrangement of + her hair. + </p> + <p> + “For instance,” said Ethel, “we never look at the house opposite because + we are at all prying, but we do know that that old maid has been doing a + mighty queer thing lately.” + </p> + <p> + “First thing you know you will be an old maid yourself, and then your + stones will break your own glass house,” said Abby Simson. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t care,” retorted Ethel. “Nowadays an old maid isn’t an old + maid except from choice, and everybody knows it. But it must have been + different in Miss Eudora’s time. Why, she is older than you are, Miss + Abby.” + </p> + <p> + “Just five years,” replied Abby, unruffled, “and she had chances, and I + know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t she take them, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” said Abby, “girls had choice then as much as now, but I never + could make out why she didn’t marry Harry Lawton.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel gave her head a toss. “Maybe,” said she, “once in a while, even so + long ago, a girl wasn’t so crazy to get married as folks thought. Maybe + she didn’t want him.” + </p> + <p> + “She did want him,” said Abby. “A girl doesn’t get so pale and + peaked-looking for nothing as Eudora Yates did, after she had dismissed + Harry Lawton and he had gone away, nor haunt the post-office as she used + to, and, when she didn’t get a letter, go away looking as if she would + die.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” said Ethel, “her folks were opposed.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever opposed Eudora Yates except her own self,” replied Abby. “Her + father was dead, and Eudora’s ma thought the sun rose and set in her. She + would never have opposed her if she had wanted to marry a foreign duke or + the old Harry himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it perfectly,” said Mrs. Joseph Glynn. + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” said Julia Esterbrook. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t see why you shouldn’t. You were plenty old enough to have your + memory in good working order if it was ever going to be,” said Abby + Simson. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Ethel, “it is the funniest thing I ever heard of. If a girl + wanted a man enough to go all to pieces over him, and he wanted her, why + on earth didn’t she take him?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe they quarreled,” ventured Mrs. Edward Lee, who was a mild, + sickly-looking woman and seldom expressed an opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that might have been,” agreed Abby, “although Eudora always had the + name of having a beautiful disposition.” + </p> + <p> + “I have always found,” said Mrs. Joseph Glynn, with an air of wisdom, + “that it is the beautiful dispositions which are the most set the minute + they get a start the wrong way. It is the always-flying-out people who are + the easiest to get on with in the long run.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Abby, “maybe that is so, but folks might get worn all to a + frazzle by the flying-out ones before the long run. I’d rather take my + chances with a woman like Eudora. She always seems just so, just as calm + and sweet. When the Ames’s barn, that was next to hers, burned down and + the wind was her way, she just walked in and out of her house, carrying + the things she valued most, and she looked like a picture—somehow + she had got all dressed fit to make calls—and there wasn’t a muscle + of her face that seemed to move. Eudora Yates is to my mind the most + beautiful woman in this town, old or young, I don’t care who she is.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Julia Esterbrook, “that she has a lot of money.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if she has,” said Mrs. John Bates. + </p> + <p> + The others stared at her. “What makes you think she hasn’t?” Mrs. Glynn + inquired, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Mrs. Bates, and closed her thin lips. She would say no + more, but the others had suspicions, because her husband, John Bates, was + a wealthy business man. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t believe she has lost her money,” said Mrs. Glynn. “She wouldn’t + have been such a fool as to do what she has if she hadn’t money.” + </p> + <p> + “What has she done?” asked Mrs. Bates, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “What has she done?” asked Abby, and Mrs. Lee looked up inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + The faces of Mrs. Glynn, her daughter, and her sister became important, + full of sly and triumphant knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you heard?” asked Mrs. Glynn. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, haven’t you?” asked Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t any of you heard?” asked Julia Esterbrook. + </p> + <p> + “No,” admitted Abby, rather feebly. “I don’t know as I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean about Eudora’s going so often to the Lancaster girls’ to + tea?” asked Mrs. John Bates, with a slight bridle of possible knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “I heard of that,” said Mrs. Lee, not to be outdone. + </p> + <p> + “Land, no,” replied Mrs. Glynn. “Didn’t she always go there? It isn’t + that. It is the most unheard-of thing she had done; but no woman, unless + she had plenty of money to bring it up, would have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “To bring what up?” asked Abby, sharply. Her eyes looked as small and + bright as needles. + </p> + <p> + Julia regarded her with intense satisfaction. “What do women generally + bring up?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know of anything they bring up, whether they have it or not, + except a baby,” retorted Abby, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Julia wilted a little; but her sister, Mrs. Glynn, was not perturbed. She + launched her thunderbolt of news at once, aware that the critical moment + had come, when the quarry of suspicion had left the bushes. + </p> + <p> + “She has adopted a baby,” said she, and paused like a woman who had fired + a gun, half scared herself and shrinking from the report. + </p> + <p> + Ethel seconded her mother. “Yes,” said she, “Miss Eudora has adopted a + baby, and she has a baby-carriage, and she wheels it out any time she + takes a notion.” Ethel’s speech was of the nature of an after-climax. The + baby-carriage weakened the situation. + </p> + <p> + The other women seized upon the idea of the carriage to cover their + surprise and prevent too much gloating on the part of Mrs. Glynn, Ethel, + and Julia. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a new carriage?” inquired Mrs. Lee. + </p> + <p> + “No, it looks like one that came over in the ark,” retorted Mrs. Glynn. + Then she repeated: “She has adopted a baby,” but this time there was no + effect of an explosion. However, the treble chorus rose high, “Where did + she get the baby? Was it a boy or a girl? Why did she adopt it? Did it cry + much?” and other queries, none of which Mrs. Glynn, Ethel, and Julia could + answer very decidedly except the last. They all announced that the adopted + baby was never heard to cry at all. + </p> + <p> + “Must be a very good child,” said Abby. + </p> + <p> + “Must be a very healthy child,” said Mrs. Lee, who had had experience with + crying babies. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she has it, anyhow,” said Mrs. Glynn. + </p> + <p> + Right upon the announcement came proof. The beautiful door of the old + colonial mansion opposite was thrown open, and clumsy and cautious motion + was evident. Presently a tall, slender woman came down the path between + the box borders, pushing a baby-carriage. It was undoubtedly a very old + carriage. It must have dated back to the fifties, if not the forties. It + was made of wood, with a leather buggy-top, and was evidently very heavy. + </p> + <p> + Abby eyed it shrewdly. “If I am not mistaken,” said she, “that is the very + carriage Eudora herself was wheeled around in when she was a baby. I am + almost sure I have seen that identical carriage before. When we were girls + I used to go to the Yates house sometimes. Of course, it was always very + formal, a little tea-party for Eudora, with her mother on hand, but I feel + sure that I saw that carriage there one of those times. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it cost a lot of money, in the time of it. The Yateses always + got the very best for Eudora,” said Julia. “And maybe Eudora goes about so + little she doesn’t realize how out of date the carriage is, but I should + think it would be very heavy to wheel, especially if the baby is a + good-sized one.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a very large baby,” said Ethel. “Of course, it is so rolled + up we can’t tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you gone out and asked to see the baby?” said Abby. + </p> + <p> + “Would we dare unless Eudora Yates offered to show it?” said Julia, with a + surprised air; and the others nodded assent. Then they all crowded to the + front windows and watched from behind the screens of green flowering + things. It was very early in the spring. Fairly hot days alternated with + light frosts. The trees were touched with sprays of rose and gold and + gold-green, but the wind still blew cold from the northern snows, and the + occupant of Eudora’s ancient carriage was presumably wrapped well to + shelter it from harm. There was, in fact, nothing to be seen in the + carriage, except a large roll of blue and white, as Eudora emerged from + the yard and closed the iron gate of the tall fence behind her. + </p> + <p> + Through this fence pricked the evergreen box, and the deep yard was full + of soft pastel tints of reluctantly budding trees and bushes. There was + one deep splash of color from a yellow bush in full bloom. + </p> + <p> + Eudora paced down the sidewalk with a magnificent, stately gait. There was + something rather magnificent in her whole appearance. Her skirts of old, + but rich, black fabric swept about her long, advancing limbs; she held her + black-bonneted head high, as if crowned. She pushed the cumbersome + baby-carriage with no apparent effort. An ancient India shawl was draped + about her sloping shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Eudora, as she passed the Glynn house, turned her face slightly, so that + its pure oval was evident. She was now a beauty in late middle life. Her + hair, of an indeterminate shade, swept in soft shadows over her ears; her + features were regular; her expression was at once regal and gentle. A + charm which was neither of youth nor of age reigned in her face; her grace + had surmounted with triumphant ease the slope of every year. Eudora passed + out of sight with the baby-carriage, lifting her proud lady-head under the + soft droop of the spring boughs; and her inspectors, whom she had not + seen, moved back from the Glynn windows with exclamations of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Abby, “whether she will have that baby call her ma or + aunty.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime Eudora passed down the village street until she reached the + Lancaster house, about half a mile away on the same side. There dwelt the + Misses Amelia and Anna Lancaster, who were about Eudora’s age, and a + widowed sister, Mrs. Sophia Willing, who was much older. The Lancaster + house was also a colonial mansion, much after the fashion of Eudora’s, but + it showed signs of continued opulence. Eudora’s, behind her trees and + leafing vines, was gray for lack of paint. Some of the colonial ornamental + details about porches and roof were sloughing off or had already + disappeared. The Lancaster house gleamed behind its grove of evergreen + trees as white and perfect as in its youth. The windows showed rich slants + of draperies behind their green glister of old glass. + </p> + <p> + A gardener, with a boy assistant, was at work in the grounds when Eudora + entered. He touched his cap. He was an old man who had lived with the + Lancasters ever since Eudora could remember. He advanced toward her now. + “Sha’n’t Tommy push—the baby-carriage up to the house for you, Miss + Eudora?” he said, in his cracked old voice. + </p> + <p> + Eudora flushed slightly, and, as if in response, the old man flushed, + also. “No, I thank you, Wilson,” she said, and moved on. + </p> + <p> + The boy, who was raking dry leaves, stood gazing at them with a shrewd, + whimsical expression. He was the old man’s grandson. + </p> + <p> + “Is that a boy or a girl kid, grandpa?” he inquired, when the gardener + returned. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue!” replied the old man, irascibly. Suddenly he seized the + boy by his two thin little shoulders with knotted old hands. + </p> + <p> + “Look at here, Tommy, whatever you know, you keep your mouth shet, and + whatever you don’t know, you keep your mouth shet, if you know what’s good + for you,” he said, in a fierce whisper. + </p> + <p> + The boy whistled and shrugged his shoulders loose. “You know I ain’t goin’ + to tell tales, grandpa,” he said, in a curiously manly fashion. + </p> + <p> + The old man nodded. “All right, Tommy. I don’t believe you be, nuther, but + you may jest as well git it through your head what’s goin’ to happen if + you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain’t goin’ to,” returned the boy. He whistled charmingly as he raked the + leaves. His whistle sounded like the carol of a bird. + </p> + <p> + Eudora pushed the carriage around to the side door, and immediately there + was a fluttering rush of a slender woman clad in lavender down the steps. + This woman first kissed Eudora with gentle fervor, then, with a sly look + around and voice raised intentionally high, she lifted the blue and white + roll from the carriage with the tenderest care. “Did the darling come to + see his aunties?” she shrilled. + </p> + <p> + The old man and the boy in the front yard heard her distinctly. The old + man’s face was imperturbable. The boy grinned. + </p> + <p> + Two other women, all clad in lavender, appeared in the doorway. They also + bent over the blue and white bundle. They also said something about the + darling coming to see his aunties. Then there ensued the softest chorus of + lady-laughter, as if at some hidden joke. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Eudora dear,” said Amelia Lancaster. “Yes, come in, Eudora + dear,” said Anna Lancaster. “Yes, come in, Eudora dear,” said Sophia + Willing. + </p> + <p> + Sophia looked much older than her sisters, but with that exception the + resemblance between all three was startling. They always dressed exactly + alike, too, in silken fabric of bluish lavender, like myrtle blossoms. + Some of the poetical souls in the village called the Lancaster sisters + “The ladies in lavender.” + </p> + <p> + There was an astonishing change in the treatment of the blue and white + bundle when the sisters and Eudora were in the stately old sitting-room, + with its heavy mahogany furniture and its white-wainscoted calls. Amelia + simply tossed the bundle into a corner of the sofa; then the sisters all + sat in a loving circle around Eudora. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure you are not utterly worn out, dear?” asked Amelia, tenderly; + and the others repeated the question in exactly the same tone. The + Lancaster sisters were not pretty, but all had charming expressions of + gentleness and a dignified good-will and loving kindness. Their blue eyes + beamed love at Eudora, and it was as if she sat encircled in a soul-ring + of affection. + </p> + <p> + She responded, and her beautiful face glowed with tenderness and pleasure, + and something besides, which was as the light of victory. + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the least tired, thank you, dears,” she replied. “Why should + I be tired? I am very strong.” + </p> + <p> + Amelia murmured something about such hard work. + </p> + <p> + “I never thought it would be hard work taking care of a baby,” replied + Eudora, “and especially such a very light baby.” + </p> + <p> + Something whimsical crept into Eudora’s voice; something whimsical crept + into the love-light of the other women’s eyes. Again a soft ripple of + mirth swept over them. + </p> + <p> + “Especially a baby who never cries,” said Amelia. + </p> + <p> + “No, he never does cry,” said Eudora, demurely. + </p> + <p> + They laughed again. Then Amelia rose and left the room to get the + tea-things. The old serving-woman who had lived with them for many years + was suffering from rheumatism, and was cared for by her daughter in the + little cottage across the road from the Lancaster house. Her husband and + grandson were the man and boy at work in the grounds. The three sisters + took care of themselves and their house with the elegant ease and lack of + fluster of gentlewomen born and bred. Miss Amelia, bringing in the + tea-tray, was an unclassed being, neither maid nor mistress, but + outranking either. She had tied on a white apron. She bore the silver tray + with an ease which bespoke either nerve or muscle in her lace-draped arms. + </p> + <p> + She poured the tea, holding the silver pot high and letting the amber + fluid trickle slowly, and the pearls and diamonds on her thin hands shone + dully. Sophia passed little china plates and fringed napkins, and Anna a + silver basket with golden squares of sponge-cake. + </p> + <p> + The ladies ate and drank, and the blue and white bundle on the sofa + remained motionless. Eudora, after she had finished her tea, leaned back + gracefully in her chair, and her dark eyes gleamed with its mild stimulus. + She remained an hour or more. When she went out, Amelia slipped an + envelope into her hand and at the same time embraced and kissed her. + Sophia and Anna followed her example. Eudora opened her mouth as if to + speak, but smiled instead, a fond, proud smile. During the last fifteen + minutes of her stay Amelia had slipped out of the room with the blue and + white bundle. Now she brought it out and laid it carefully in the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + “We are always so glad to see you, dearest Eudora,” said she, “but you + understand—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sophia, “you understand, Eudora dear, that there is not the + slightest haste.” + </p> + <p> + Eudora nodded, and her long neck seemed to grow longer. + </p> + <p> + When she was stepping regally down the path, Amelia said in a hasty + whisper to Sophia: “Did you tell her?” + </p> + <p> + Sophia shook her head. “No, sister.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t know but you might have, while I was out of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not,” said Sophia. She looked doubtfully at Amelia, then at Anna, + and doubt flashed back and forth between the three pairs of blue eyes for + a second. Then Sophia spoke with authority, because she was the only one + of them all who had entered the estate of matrimony, and had consequently + obvious cognizance of such matters. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said she, “that Eudora should be told that Harry Lawton has + come back and is boarding at the Wellwood Inn.” + </p> + <p> + “You think,” faltered Amelia, “that it is possible she might meet him + unexpectedly?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do think so. And she might show her feelings in a way which + she would ever afterward regret.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, that she—” + </p> + <p> + Sophia gave her sister a look. Amelia fled after Eudora and the + baby-carriage. She overtook her at the gate. She laid her hand on Eudora’s + arm, draped with India shawl. + </p> + <p> + “Eudora!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + Eudora turned her serene face and regarded her questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Eudora,” said Amelia, “have you heard of anybody’s coming to stay at the + inn lately?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Eudora, calmly. “Why, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only, Eudora, a dear and old friend of yours, of ours, is there, + so I hear.” + </p> + <p> + Eudora did not inquire who the old friend might be. “Really?” she + remarked. Then she said, “Goodby, Amelia dear,” and resumed her progress + with the baby-carriage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II + </h2> + <p> + “She never even asked who it was,” Amelia reported to her sisters, when + she had returned to the house. “Because she knew,” replied Sophia, sagely; + “there has never been any old friend but that one old friend to come back + into Eudora Yates’s life.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he come back into her life, I wonder?” said Amelia. + </p> + <p> + “What did he return to Wellwood for if he didn’t come for that? All his + relatives are gone. He never married. Yes, he has come back to see Eudora + and marry her, if she will have him. No man who ever loved Eudora would + ever get over loving her. And he will not be shocked when he sees her. She + is no more changed than a beautiful old statue.” + </p> + <p> + “HE is changed, though,” said Amelia. “I saw him the other day. He didn’t + see me, and I would hardly have known him. He has grown stout, and his + hair is gray.” + </p> + <p> + “Eudora’s hair is gray,” said Sophia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you can see the gold through Eudora’s gray. It just looks as if + a shadow was thrown over it. It doesn’t change her. Harry Lawton’s gray + hair does change him.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” said Anna, sentimentally, “Eudora thinks Harry’s hair turned gray + for love of her, you can trust her or any woman to see the gold through + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry’s hair was never gold—just an ordinary brown,” said Amelia. + “Anyway, the Lawtons turned gray young.” + </p> + <p> + “She won’t think of that at all,” said Sophia. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why Eudora always avoided him so, years ago,” said Amelia. + </p> + <p> + “Why doesn’t a girl in a field of daisies stop to pick one, which she + never forgets?” said Sophia. “Eudora had so many chances, and I don’t + think her heart was fixed when she was very young; at least, I don’t think + it was fixed so she knew it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Amelia, “if he will go and call on her.” + </p> + <p> + Amelia privately wished that she lived near enough to know if Harry Lawton + did call. She, as well as Mrs. Joseph Glynn, would have enjoyed watching + out and knowing something of the village happenings, but the Lancaster + house was situated so far from the road, behind its grove of trees, that + nothing whatever could be seen. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if Eudora tells, if he does call—that is, not unless + something definite happens,” said Anna. + </p> + <p> + “No,” remarked Amelia, sadly. “Eudora is a dear, but she is very silent + with regard to her own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “She ought to be,” said Sophia, with her married authority. She was, to + her sisters, as one who had passed within the shrine and was dignifiedly + silent with regard to its intimate mysteries. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” assented Anna, with a soft sigh. Amelia sighed also. Then + she took the tea-tray out of the room. She had to make some biscuits for + supper. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Eudora was pacing homeward with the baby-carriage. Her serene + face was a little perturbed. Her oval cheeks were flushed, and her mouth + now and then trembled. She had, if she followed her usual course, to pass + the Wellwood Inn, but she could diverge, and by taking a side street and + walking a half-mile farther reach home without coming in sight of the inn. + She did so to-day. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the side street she turned rather swiftly and gave a + little sigh of relief. She was afraid that she might meet Harry Lawton. It + was a lonely way. There was a brook on one side, bordered thickly with + bushy willows which were turning gold-green. On the other side were + undulating pasture-lands on which grazed a few sheep. There were no houses + until she reached the turn which would lead back to the main street, on + which her home was located. + </p> + <p> + Eudora was about midway of this street when she saw a man approaching. He + was a large man clad in gray, and he was swinging an umbrella. Somehow the + swing of that umbrella, even from a distance, gave an impression of + embarrassment and boyish hesitation. Eudora did not know him at first. She + had expected to see the same Harry Lawton who had gone away. She did not + expect to see a stout, middle-aged man, but a slim youth. + </p> + <p> + However, as they drew nearer each other, she knew; and curiously enough it + was that swing of the tightly furled umbrella which gave her the clue. She + knew Harry because of that. It was a little boyish trick which had + survived time. It was too late for her to draw back, for he had seen her, + and Eudora was keenly alive to the indignity of abruptly turning and + scuttling away with the tail of her black silk swishing, her India shawl + trailing, and the baby-carriage bumping over the furrows. She continued, + and Harry Lawton continued, and they met. + </p> + <p> + Harry Lawton had known Eudora at once. She looked the same to him as when + she had been a girl, and he looked the same to her when he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Eudora,” said Harry Lawton, in a ludicrously boyish fashion. His + face flushed, too, like a boy. He extended his hand like a boy. The man, + seen near at hand, was a boy. In reality he himself had not changed. A few + layers of flesh and a change of color-cells do not make another man. He + had always been a simple, sincere, friendly soul, beloved of men and women + alike, and he was that now. Eudora held out her hand, and her eyes fell + before the eyes of the man, in an absurd fashion for such a stately + creature as she. But the man himself acted like a great happy overgrown + school-boy. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Eudora,” he said again. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo,” said she, falteringly. + </p> + <p> + It was inconceivable that they should meet in such wise after the years of + separation and longing which they had both undergone; but each took + refuge, as it were, in a long-past youth, even childhood, from the fierce + tension of age. When they were both children they had been accustomed to + pass each other on the village street with exactly such salutation, and + now both reverted to it. The tall, regal woman in her India shawl and the + stout, middle-aged man had both stepped back to their vantage-ground of + springtime to meet. + </p> + <p> + However, after a moment, Eudora reasserted herself. “I only heard a short + time ago that you were here,” she said, in her usual even voice. The fair + oval of her face was as serene and proud toward the man as the face of the + moon. + </p> + <p> + The man swung his umbrella, then began prodding the ground with it. + “Hullo, Eudora,” he said again; then he added: “How are you, anyway? Fine + and well?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very well, thank you,” said Eudora. “So you have come home to + Wellwood after all this time?” + </p> + <p> + The man made an effort and recovered himself, although his handsome face + was burning. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he remarked, with considerable ease and dignity, to which he had a + right, for Harry Lawton had not made a failure of his life, even though it + had not included Eudora and a fulfilled dream. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he continued, “I had some leisure; in fact, I have this spring + retired from business; and I thought I would have a look at the old place. + Very little changed I am happy to find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is very little changed,” assented Eudora; “at least, it seems so + to me, but it is not for a life-long dweller in any place to judge of + change. It is for the one who goes and returns after many years.” + </p> + <p> + There was a faint hint of proud sadness in Eudora’s voice as she spoke the + last two words. + </p> + <p> + “It has been many years,” said Lawton, gravely, “and I wonder if it has + seemed so to you.” + </p> + <p> + Eudora held her head proudly. “Time passes swiftly,” said she, tritely. + </p> + <p> + “But sometimes it may seem long in the passing, however swift,” said + Lawton, “though I suppose it has not to you. You look just the same,” he + added, regarding her admiringly. + </p> + <p> + Eudora flushed a little. “I must be changed,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit. I would have known you anywhere. But I—” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you the minute you spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” he asked, eagerly. “I was afraid I had grown so stout you would + not remember me at all. Queer how a man will grow stout. I am not such a + big eater, either, and I have worked hard, and—well, I might have + been worse off, but I must say I have seen men who seemed to me happier, + though I have made the best of things. I always did despise a flunk. But + you! I heard you had adopted a baby,” he said, with a sudden glance at the + blue and white bundle in the carriage, “and I thought you were mighty + sensible. When people grow old they want young people growing around them, + staffs for old age, you know, and all that sort of thing. Don’t know but I + should have adopted a boy myself if it hadn’t been for—” + </p> + <p> + The man stopped, and his face was pink. Eudora turned her face slightly + away. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said the man, in a suddenly hushed voice, “I suppose the kid + you’ve got there is asleep. Wouldn’t do to wake him?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I had better not,” replied Eudora, in a hesitating voice. She + began to walk along, and Harry Lawton fell into step beside her. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it isn’t best to wake up babies; makes them cross, and they + cry,” he said. “Say, Eudora, is he much trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” replied Eudora, still in that strange voice. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t keep you awake nights?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no.” + </p> + <p> + “Because if he does, I really think you should have a nurse. I don’t think + you ought to lose sleep taking care of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was mighty glad when I heard you had adopted him. I suppose you + made sure about his parentage, where he hailed from and what sort of + people?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” Eudora was very pale. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Maybe some time you will tell me all about it. I am coming + over Thursday to have a look at the youngster. I have to go to the city on + business to-morrow and can’t get back until Thursday. I was coming over + to-night to call on you, but I have a man coming to the inn this evening—he + called me up on the telephone just now—one of the men who have taken + my place in the business; and as long as I have met you I will just walk + along with you, and come Thursday. I suppose the baby won’t be likely to + wake up just yet, and when he does you’ll have to get his supper and put + him to bed. Is that the way the rule goes?” + </p> + <p> + Eudora nodded in a shamed, speechless sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “All right. I’ll come Thursday—but say, look here, Eudora. This is a + quiet road, not a soul in sight, just like an outdoor room to ourselves. + Why shouldn’t I know now just as well as wait? Say, Eudora, you know how I + used to feel about you. Well, it has lasted all these years. There has + never been another woman I even cared to look at. You are alone, except + for that baby, and I am alone. Eudora—” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. His flushed face had paled. Eudora paced silently and + waveringly at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Eudora,” the man went on, “you know you always used to run away from me—never + gave me a chance to really ask; and I thought you didn’t care. But somehow + I have wondered—perhaps because you never got married—if you + didn’t quite mean it, if you didn’t quite know your own mind. You’ll think + I’m a conceited ass, but I’m not a bad sort, Eudora. I would be as good to + you as I know how, and—we could bring him up together.” He pointed + to the carriage. “I have plenty of money. We could do anything we wanted + to do for him, and we should not have to live alone. Say, Eudora, you may + not think it’s the thing for a man to own up to, but, hang it all! I’m + alone, and I don’t want to face the rest of my life alone. Eudora, do you + think you could make up your mind to marry me, after all?” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the turn in the road. Just beyond rose the stately pile + of the old Yates mansion. Eudora stood still and gave one desperate look + at her lover. “I will let you know Thursday,” she gasped. Then she was + gone, trundling the baby-carriage with incredible speed. + </p> + <p> + “But, Eudora—” + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” she called back, faintly. The man stood staring after the + hurrying figure with its swishing black skirts and its flying points of + rich India shawl, and he smiled happily and tenderly. That evening at the + inn his caller, a young fellow just married and beaming with happiness, + saw an answering beam in the older man’s face. He broke off in the midst + of a sentence and stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t give me away until I tell you to, Ned,” he said, “but I don’t know + but I am going to follow your example.” + </p> + <p> + “My example?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, going to get married.” + </p> + <p> + The young man gasped. A look of surprise, of amusement, then of generous + sympathy came over his face. He grasped Lawton’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a woman I wanted more than anything in the world when I was about + your age.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she isn’t young?” + </p> + <p> + “She is better than young.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” agreed the young man, “being young and pretty is not everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty!” said Harry Lawton, scornfully, “pretty! She is a great beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “And not young?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a great beauty, and better than young, because time has not + touched her beauty, and you can see for yourself that it lasts.” + </p> + <p> + The young man laughed. “Oh, well,” he said, with a tender inflection, “I + dare say that my Amy will look like that to me.” + </p> + <p> + “If she doesn’t you don’t love her,” said Lawton. “But my Eudora IS that.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a queer-sounding Greek name.” + </p> + <p> + “She is Greek, like her name. Such beauty never grows old. She stands on + her pedestal, and time only looks at her to love her.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were a business man as hard as nails,” said the young man, + wonderingly. Lawton laughed. + </p> + <p> + When Thursday came, Lawton, carefully dressed and carrying a long + tissue-paper package, evidently of roses, approached the Yates house. It + was late in the afternoon. There had been a warm day, and the trees were + clouds of green and more bushes had blossomed. Eudora had put on a green + silk dress of her youth. The revolving fashions had made it very passable, + and the fabric was as beautiful as ever. + </p> + <p> + When Lawton presented her with the roses she pinned one in the yellowed + lace which draped her bodice and put the rest in a great china vase on the + table. The roses were very fragrant, and immediately the whole room was + possessed by them. + </p> + <p> + A tiny, insistent cry came from a corner, and Lawton and Eudora turned + toward it. There stood the old wooden cradle in which Eudora had been + rocked to sleep, but over the clumsy hood Eudora had tacked a fall of rich + old lace and a great bow of soft pink satin. + </p> + <p> + “He is waking up,” said the man, in a hushed, almost reverent voice. + </p> + <p> + Eudora nodded. She went toward the cradle, and the man followed. She + lifted the curtain of lace, and there became visible little feebly waving + pink arms and hands, like tentacles of love, and a little puckered pink + face which was at once ugly and divinely beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “A fine boy,” said the man. The baby made a grimace at him which was + hideous but lovely. + </p> + <p> + “I do believe he thinks he knows you,” said Eudora, foolishly. + </p> + <p> + The baby made a little nestling motion, and its creasy eyelids dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Looks to me as if he was going to sleep again,” said Lawton, in a + whisper. Eudora jogged the cradle gently with her foot, and both were + still. Then Eudora dropped the lace veil over the cradle again and moved + softly away. + </p> + <p> + Lawton followed her. “I haven’t my answer yet, Eudora,” he whispered, + leaning over her shoulder as she moved. + </p> + <p> + “Come into the other room,” she murmured, “or we shall wake the baby.” Her + voice was softly excited. + </p> + <p> + Eudora led the way into the parlor, upon whose walls hung some really good + portraits and whose furnishings still merited the adjective magnificent. + There had been opulence in the Yates family; and in this room, which had + been conserved, there was still undimmed and unfaded evidence of it. + Eudora drew aside a brocade curtain and sat down on an embroidered satin + sofa. Lawton sat beside her. + </p> + <p> + “This room looks every whit as grand as it used to look to me when I was a + boy,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It has hardly been opened, except to have it cleaned, since you went + away,” replied Eudora, “and no wear has come upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “And everything was rather splendid to begin with, and has lasted. And so + were you, Eudora, and you have lasted. Well, what about my answer, dear + girl?” + </p> + <p> + “You have to hear something first.” + </p> + <p> + Lawton laughed. “A confession?” + </p> + <p> + Eudora held her head proudly. “No, not exactly,” said she. “I am not sure + that I have ever had anything to confess.” + </p> + <p> + “You never were sure, you proud creature.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not now. I never intended to deceive you, but you were deceived. I + did intend to deceive others, others who had no right to know. I do not + feel that I owe them any explanation. I do owe you one, although I do not + feel that I have done anything wrong. Still, I cannot allow you to remain + deceived.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + Eudora looked at him. “You remember that afternoon when you met me with + the baby-carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should think so. My memory has not failed me in three days.” + </p> + <p> + “You thought I had a baby in that carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I did.” + </p> + <p> + “There wasn’t a baby in the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what on earth was it, then? A cat?” + </p> + <p> + Eudora, if possible, looked prouder. “It was a package of soiled linen + from the Lancaster girls.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good heavens, Eudora!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Eudora, proudly. “I lost nearly everything when that railroad + failed. I had enough left to pay the taxes, and that was all. After I had + used a small sum in the savings-bank there was nothing. One day I went + over to the Lancasters’, and I—well, I had not had much to eat for + several days. I was a little faint, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Eudora, you poor, darling girl!” + </p> + <p> + “And the Lancaster girls found out,” continued Eudora, calmly. “They gave + me something to eat, and I suppose I ate as if I were famished. I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Eudora!” + </p> + <p> + “And they wanted to give me money, but I would not take it, and they had + been trying to find a laundress for their finer linen—their old + serving-woman was ill. They could find one for the heavier things, but + they are very particular, and I was sure I could manage, and so I begged + them to let me have the work, and they did, and overpaid me, I fear. And I—I + knew very well how many spying eyes were about, and I thought of my proud + father and my proud mother and grandmother, and perhaps I was proud, too. + You know they talk about the Yates pride. It was not so much because I was + ashamed of doing honest work as because I did resent those prying eyes and + tattling tongues, and so I said nothing, but I did go back and forth in + broad daylight with the linen wrapped up in the old blue and white + blanket, in my old carriage, and they thought what they thought.” + </p> + <p> + Eudora laughed faintly. She had a gentle humor. “It was somewhat + laughable, too,” she observed. “The Lancaster girls and I have had our + little jests over it, but I felt that I could not deceive you.” + </p> + <p> + Lawton looked bewildered. “But that is a real baby in there,” he said, + jerking an elbow toward the other room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” replied Eudora. “I adopted him yesterday. I went to the + Children’s Home in Elmfield. Amelia Lancaster went with me. Wilson drove + us over. I know a nurse there. She took care of mother in her last + illness. And I adopted this baby; at least, I am going to. He comes of + respectable people, and his parents are dead. His mother died when he was + born. He is healthy, and I thought him a beautiful baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is,” assented Lawton, but he still looked somewhat perplexed. + “But why did you hurry off so and get him, Eudora?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I thought from what you said that day that you would be disappointed when + you found out I had only the Lancaster linen and not a real baby,” said + Eudora with her calm, grand air and with no trace of a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then that means that you say yes, Eudora?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Eudora gave a startled glance at him. “Didn’t you + know?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “How should I? You had not said yes really, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” said Eudora Yates, “that I am not too proud to allow you + to ask me if my answer were not yes?” + </p> + <p> + “So that is the reason you always ran away from me, years ago, so that I + never had a chance to ask you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Eudora. “No woman of my family ever allows a declaration + which she does not intend to accept. I was always taught that by my + mother.” + </p> + <p> + Then a small but insistent cry rent the air. “The baby is awake!” cried + Eudora, and ran, or, rather, paced swiftly—Eudora had been taught + never to run—and Lawton followed. It was he who finally quieted the + child, holding the little thing in his arms. + </p> + <p> + But the baby, before that, cried so long and lustily that all the women in + the Glynn house opposite were on the alert, and also some of the friends + who were calling there. Abby Simson was one. + </p> + <p> + “Harry Lawton has been there over an hour now,” said Abby, while the + wailing continued, “and I know as well as I want to that there will be a + wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder he doesn’t object to that adopted baby,” said Julia Esterbrook. + </p> + <p> + “I know one thing,” said Abby Simson. “It must be a boy baby, it hollers + so.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Yates Pride, by Mary E. 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