THE SPRINGS.
Mr. Hastings and Dora were engaged. Mrs. Hastings, the mother, and Mrs.
Elliott, the sister, had signified their entire approbation, while
Uncle Nat, with a hand placed on either head of the young people, had
blessed them as his children, hinting the while that few brides e'er
went forth as richly dowered as should Dora Deane. The marriage was not
to take place until the following October, as Mr. Hastings wished to
make some improvements at Rose Hill, which was still to be his home
proper, though Uncle Nat insisted upon buying a very elegant house in
the city for a winter residence, whenever they chose thus to use it. To
this proposal Mr. Hastings made no objection, for though he felt that
his greatest happiness would be in having Dora all to himself in
Dunwood, he knew that society in the city would never have the effect
upon her which it did upon Ella, for her tastes, like his own, were
domestic, and on almost every subject she felt and thought as he did.
Immediately after his engagement he imparted to Uncle Nat a knowledge
of the double surprise he had planned for Eugenia, and the old
gentleman at last consented, saying though, that "'twas doubtful
whether he could hold himself together when first he met the young
lady. Still with Mr. Hastings's presence as a check, he would try."
So it was arranged that in Dunwood, where Mr. Hastings's return was
still unknown, Uncle Nat should pass as a _Mr. Hamilton_, whom Mr.
Hastings had picked up in his travels. Four years of his earlier life
had been spent in South America, and whenever he spoke of any
particular place of abode it was to be of _Buenos Ayres_, where he had
once resided. By this means he could the more easily learn for himself
the character and disposition of his relatives, and feeling now more
eager than ever to meet them, he here started with Mr. Hastings for
Dunwood. It was morning when they reached there, and with a dark,
lowering brow, he looked curiously at the house which his companion
designated as _Locust Grove_. It was a pleasant spot, and it seemed
almost impossible that it should be the home of a woman as artful and
designing as Eugenia. About it now, however, there was an air of
desertion. The doors were shut and the blinds closed, as if the inmates
were absent.
On reaching Rose Hill, where he found his servants overwhelmed with
delight at his unexpected return, Mr. Hastings casually inquired of
Mrs. Leah if the Deanes were at home. A shadow passed over the old
lady's face, and folding her arms, she leaned against the door and
began: "I wonder now, if you're askin' after them the first thing! I
don't know but they are well enough, all but Eugenia, I believe I never
disliked anybody as I do her, and no wonder, the way she's gone on. At
first she used to come up here almost every week on purpose to ask
about you, though she pretended to tumble over your books, and mark 'em
all up with her pencil. But when that scapegrace _Stephen Grey_ came,
she took another _tack_, and the way she and he went on was scandalous.
She was a runnin' up here the whole time that he wasn't a streakin' it
down there."
"_Stephen Grey been here?_ When and what for?" interrupted Mr.
Hastings, who, as his father-in-law, during his absence, had removed to
Philadelphia, knew nothing of the family.
"You may well ask that," returned Mrs. Leah, growing very much excited
as she remembered the trouble the fast young man had made her. "Last
fall in shootin' time, he came here, bag, baggage, gun, dogs and
all--said it didn't make a speck of difference, you being away--'twas
all in the family, and so you'd a' thought, the way he went on,
drinkin', swearin', shootin', and carousin' with a lot of fellers who
stayed with him here a spell, and then, when they were gone, he took a
flirtin' with Eugenia Deane, who told him, I'll bet, more'n five
hundred lies about an old uncle that, she says, is rich as a Jew, and
has willed his property to her and Alice."
"The viper!" muttered Uncle Nat to himself; and Mrs. Leah continued, "I
shouldn't wonder if old Mr. Grey was gettin' poor, and Steve, I guess,
would marry anybody who had money; but Lord knows I don't want him to
have her, for though he he ain't an atom too good, I used to live in
the family and took care of him when he was little. I should a' written
about his carryin's on to Mrs. Elliott, only I knew she didn't think
any too much of the Greys, and 'twould only trouble her for nothin'."
"But where are they now--Mrs. Deane and her daughters?" asked Mr.
Hastings; and Mrs. Leah replied. "Gone to Avon Springs: and folks do
say they've done their own work, and ate cold victuals off the pantry
shelf ever since last November, so as to save money, to cut a swell. I
guess Eugenia'll be mighty glad if that old uncle ever dies. For my
part, I hope he won't! or, if he does, I hope he won't leave her a
dollar."
"_Not a dime!_" thought Uncle Nat, who, not being supposed to feel
interested in Eugenia Deane, had tried to appear indifferent, holding
hard the while upon the rounds of his chair "to keep himself together."
Alone with Mr. Hastings, his wrath burst forth, but after a few
tremendous explosions, he grew calm, and proposed that they too should
go at once to Avon. "We shall then see the lady in all her glory," said
he, "and maybe hear something about her old uncle, though you'll have
to keep your eye on me, or I shall go off on a sudden, and shake her as
a dog would a snake! We'll send for Mrs. Elliott and Dora to join us
there," he continued; "it will be fun to bring them together, and see
what Eugenia will do."
"I am afraid you could not restrain yourself," said Mr. Hastings; but
Uncle Nat was sure he could, and after a few days they started for
Avon, where "Miss Eugenia Deane, the heiress," was quite a belle.
For a long time after Mr. Hastings's departure for Europe, she had
remained true to him, feeding on the remembrance of his parting words,
that "he had more reasons for remembering her than she supposed;" but
when, as months went by, he sent her neither letter, paper nor message,
she began to think that possibly he had never entertained a serious
thought concerning her, and when Stephen Grey came, she was the more
ready to receive his attentions, and forgive his former neglect. He was
a reckless, unprincipled fellow, and feeling this time rather pleased
with the bold dashing manner of Eugenia, backed as it was by the
supposed will of Uncle Nat, he made some advances, which she readily
met, making herself and him, as Mrs. Leah had said, "perfectly
ridiculous." When he left Dunwood he went west, telling her playfully,
that, "if he found no one there who suited him better than she, he
would the next summer meet her at Avon, and perhaps propose! He was
disgusted with Saratoga, Newport, Nahant, and all those stupid places,"
he said, "and wished to try something new."
To spend several weeks at Avon, therefore, was now Eugenia's object.
She had succeeded in coaxing her mother to withhold from Dora the
thousand dollars, a part of which was safely invested for their own
benefit, but this alone would not cover all their expenses, for Mrs.
Deane, growing gay and foolish as she grew older, declared her
intention of going to Avon also. "The water would do her good." she
said, "and 'twas time she saw a little of society."
To this plan Eugenia did not particularly object, for it would indicate
wealth, she thought, for the whole family to spend the summer at a
watering place. Still it would cost a great deal, and though Uncle
Nat's remittance came at the usual time, they did not dare to depend
wholly upon that, lest on their return there should be nothing left
with which to buy their bread. In this emergency, they hit upon the
expedient of dismissing their servant, and starving themselves through
the winter and spring, for the purpose of making a display in the
summer; and this last they were now doing. Eugenia fluttered like a
butterfly, sometimes in white satin, sometimes in pink, and again in
embroidered muslin; while her mother, a very little disgusted with
_society_, but still determined to brave it through, held aside her
cambric wrapper and made faces over _three glasses_ of spring water in
the morning, drowned herself in a hot bath every other day, rode twice
a day in crowded omnibuses to and from the springs, through banks of
sand and clouds of dust, and sat every evening in the heated parlors
with a very red face, and a very tight dress, wondering if everybody
enjoyed themselves as little in society as she did, and thinking ten
dollars per week a great deal to pay for being as uncomfortable as she
was!
For her disquietude, however, she felt in a measure repaid when she saw
that Eugenia was the most showy young lady present, and managed to keep
about her a cross-eyed widower, a near-sighted-bachelor, a medical
student of nineteen, a broken-down merchant, a lame officer, a
spiritualist, and Stephen Grey! This completed the list of her
admirers, if we except a gouty old man, who praised her dancing, and
would perhaps have called her beautiful, but for his better half, who
could see nothing agreeable or pleasing in the dashing belle. True to
his promise, Stephen Grey had met her there, and they were in the midst
of quite a flirtation, when Mr. Hastings and Uncle Nat arrived; the
latter registering his name as _Mr. Hamilton_; and taking care soon
after to speak of _Buenos Ayres_, as a place where he formerly lived.
The ruse was successful, and in less than half an hour, it was known
through the house, that "the singular looking old gentleman was a South
American, a bachelor, and rich undoubtedly, as such men always were!"
The Deanes were that afternoon riding with Stephen Grey, and did not
return until after supper, a circumstance which Eugenia greatly
lamented when she learned that their numbers had been increased by the
arrival of an elegant looking stranger from New York, together with an
old South American, whose name was Hamilton. The name of the other
Eugenia's informant did not know, for he had not registered it, but "he
was a splendid looking man," she said, and with more than usual care,
Eugenia dressed herself for the evening, and between the hours of eight
and nine, sailed into the parlor with the air of a queen.
From his window in an upper chamber Uncle Nat had seen the ladies, as
they returned from their ride; and when Mr. Hastings, who at that time
was absent from the room, came back to it, he found the old gentleman
hurriedly pacing the floor and evidently much excited.
"_I've seen her_," said he, "_the very one herself--Eugenia Deane!_ I
knew her mother in a moment, and I knew her too, by her evil eyes. I
could hardly refrain from pouncing upon her, and I believe I did shake
my fist at her! But it's over now," he continued, "and I am glad I have
seen her, for I can meet her and not betray myself; though, Hastings,
if at any time I am missing, you may know that I've come up here to let
myself off, for my wrath must evaporate somehow."
Feeling confident that he could trust him, Mr. Hastings ere long
accompanied him to the parlor, where his gentlemanly manners, and
rather peculiar looks procured for him immediate attention; and when
Eugenia entered the room, he was conversing familiarly with some
gentlemen whose notice she had in vain tried to attract. At a little
distance from him and nearer the door was Mr. Hastings, talking to
Stephen Grey. Eugenia did not observe him until she was directly at his
side, then, turning pale, she altered an exclamation of surprise, while
he, in his usual polite, easy manner, offered his hand, first to her
mother, and then to herself and Alice, saying, in reply to their many
inquiries as to when he returned, that he reached Dunwood a few days
before, and finding they were all at Avon, had concluded to follow. At
this remark the pallor left Eugenia's cheek, and was succeeded by a
bright glow, for "Mr. Hastings must feel interested in her, or he would
not have followed her there;" and the black eyes, which a few hours
before had smiled so bewitchingly upon Stephen Grey, now shone with a
brighter lustre, as she talked with Mr. Hastings of his European tour,
asking him why he had stayed so long, and telling him how natural it
seemed to have him home once more.
"By the way," she continued, "they say there is an old South American
here--a queer old fellow--did he come with you?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Hastings, glancing towards Uncle Nat, whose eyes
had never for a moment lost sight of Eugenia; "I found him in my
travels, and liking him very much, brought him home with me. Allow me
to introduce you, for though rather eccentric, he's a fine man, and
quite wealthy, too."
"_Wealth is nothing!_ I wouldn't think any more of him for that,"
returned Eugenia, taking Mr. Hastings's arm, and advancing toward Uncle
Nat, whose left hand grasped tightly one side of his blue coat, while
the other was offered to Eugenia.
With a slight shudder, he dropped her hand as soon as it was touched;
then, pressing his fingers together so firmly, that his long nails left
marks in his flesh, he looked curiously down upon her, eyeing her
furtively as if she had been a wild beast. Nothing of all this escaped
Eugenia, who, feeling greatly amused at what she thought to be his
embarrassment, and fancying he had never before conversed with so fine
a lady as herself, she commenced quizzing him in a manner excessively
provoking to one of his excitable temperament. Lifting up first one
foot, and then the other, he felt his patience fast giving way, and at
last, as her ridicule became more and more marked, he could endure it
no longer, but returned it with a kind of sarcasm far more scathing
than anything she could say. Deeply chagrined, and feeling that she had
been beaten with her own weapons, she was about to leave the "old bear"
as she mentally styled him, when remembering that he was Mr. Hastings's
friend, and, as such worthy of more respect than she had paid him, she
said playfully, "I have a mother and sister here, whom you may like
better than you do me. I'll introduce them," and tripping across the
room, she made known her wishes to her mother, adding that "there was a
chance for her, as he was an old bachelor."
Long and searchingly the old man looked in the face of the widow,
thinking of the time when she had called _Fannie_ her sister; but of
this Mrs. Deane did not know; and remembering what Eugenia had said,
she blushed crimson, and as soon as possible, stole away, leaving him
alone with Alice, with whom he was better pleased, talking with her so
long that Eugenia, who was hovering near Mr. Hastings, began to laugh
at what she called her _sister's conquest_. Nothing had escaped Mr.
Hastings, and thinking this a good opportunity for rebuking the young
lady, he spoke of Mr. Hamilton in the highest terms, saying that, "he
should consider any disrespect paid to his friend a slight to himself."
This hint was sufficient, and wishing to make amends for her rudeness,
Eugenia ere long sought the stranger, and tried to be very agreeable;
but there was no affinity between them, and to Mr. Hastings, who was
watching them, they seemed much like a fierce mastiff, and a spiteful
cat, impatient to pounce upon each other!
During the evening the three were standing together, and Eugenia
suddenly remembering Dora, asked Mr. Hastings how she was, saying she
seldom wrote to them, and when she did, her letters amounted to
nothing. With a warning glance at Uncle Nat, whose face grew very dark,
Mr. Hastings replied that she was well, and had, he thought, improved
under his sister's care.
"I am glad," said she, "for there was need enough of improvement. She
was so unrefined, always preferring the kitchen to the parlor, that we
couldn't make anything of her."
A sudden "_Ugh!_" from Uncle Nat stopped her, and she asked him what
was the matter.
"Nothing, nothing," said he, wiping his face, "only I am getting pretty
warm, and must cool off."
The next moment he was gone, and when, at a late hour, Mr. Hastings
repaired to his room, he knew by the chairs, boots, brushes, and books
scattered over the floor, that Uncle Nat, snoring so loudly in bed, had
cooled off!
"I had to hold on, to keep from falling to pieces right before her," he
said, next morning, in speaking of the last night's adventure; "but I
shall do better next time. I am getting a little accustomed to it."
And he was right, for only twice during the entire day and evening did
he disappear from the room. Once when Eugenia sat down to play, and
once when he heard her telling Stephen Grey, who asked her to ride
again, that, "he really must excuse her, as she had a letter to write
to _Uncle Nat_, who undoubtedly wondered why she was so tardy. And you
know," she said, "it won't do to neglect him!"
Uncle Nat knew it was a farce to get rid of Stephen Grey, who was
nothing compared with his brother-in-law, but his indignation was not
the less; and Mr. Hastings, when he saw the long blue coat flying up
the stairs, smiled quietly, though he pitied the poor old man, who was
thus kept vibrating between his chamber and the parlor.
In this manner several days passed away, during which time Uncle Nat's
temper was severely tested, both by Eugenia's remarks concerning Dora,
and by what she said of himself, for he more than once heard her
speaking of _"Old Uncle Nat,"_ who sent her money to buy the various
articles of jewelry which she wore. On such occasions it seemed almost
impossible for him to restrain his anger, and he often wished he had
never promised to keep silent; but by frequent visits to his chamber,
which witnessed many a terrific storm, he managed to be quiet, so that
Eugenia had no suspicion whatever, though she disliked him greatly, and
wished he had never come there. Mr. Hastings troubled her, too, for she
felt very uncertain as to the nature of his feelings towards her. He
treated her politely, but that was all, and no management on her part
could draw from him any particular attention.
"Maybe he's jealous of Stephen Grey," she thought, and then she became
so cold towards the latter individual, that had he not remembered
_Uncle Nat's will_, in which he firmly believed, he would have packed
his trunk at once, and left her in disgust.
But Stephen's necessities were great. There was standing against him a
long list of bills, which his father refused to pay, and he was ready
to marry the first purse which was offered. Had Eugenia been altogether
agreeable to him, he would have proposed ere this, but without knowing
why, he felt afraid of her. Added to this was the memory of his
mother's threat, that his father should disinherit him if he disgraced
them by marrying _that Deane girl_, in whose expected fortune she did
not believe. So halting between two opinions, he allowed himself to be
taken up and cast off whenever the capricious Eugenia chose.
In the meantime, Uncle Nat had cultivated the acquaintance of Mrs.
Deane and Alice, finding the latter quite a pleasant girl, and feeling
disposed to think more favorably of the former when he heard her speak
kindly of Dora, as she always did. Matters were in this state, when,
one afternoon, in compliance with her brother's written request, Mrs.
Elliott arrived, together with Dora. Most of the visitors were at the
springs, and as Eugenia never let an opportunity pass for showing
herself to the guests of the different houses, she too was there, and
thus failed to see how tenderly Dora was greeted by Mr. Hastings, and
how fondly Uncle Nat clasped her in his arms, holding her hand all the
way up the stairs, and only releasing her when she reached the door of
the room, which had been previously engaged for them by Mr. Hastings.
Feeling slightly indisposed, Mrs. Elliott did not go down to supper,
and as Dora chose to remain with her, neither of them were seen until
evening. Eugenia had heard of the arrival of two aristocratic looking
ladies, one of whom was young and very beautiful, and this aroused her
fears at once. Hitherto she had reigned without a rival, for aside from
her beauty, the generally believed rumor of her being an heiress,
procured for her attention for many who otherwise would have been
disgusted with her overbearing manner and boisterous conduct; for, like
many others, she had fallen into the error of thinking that to be
_fashionable_, she must be bold and noisy, and no voice in the
drawing-room ever reached so high a note as hers. Still she was
tolerated and flattered, and when the friend, who told her of the new
arrivals, and who had caught a view of Dora's face, laughingly bade her
beware lest her star should begin to wane, she curled her lip in scorn,
as if anything in Avon could compete with her, who "had spent so many
seasons at _Saratoga_ and _Newport_, and who would have gone there this
summer, only she wanted a change, and then it was more quiet for _Ma_!"
This was one of her stereotyped remarks until Mr. Hastings came, but he
knew her, and in his presence she was less assuming. She had heard that
the new arrivals were his friends, and thinking they must of course be
_somebody_, she arrayed herself for the evening with unusual care,
wearing her white satin and lace bertha, the most becoming and at the
same time the most expensive dress she had.
"I wish I had some pearls," she said, glancing at her raven hair; "they
would look so much richer than these flowers."
"I should think an heiress like _you_ would have everything she
wanted," suggested Alice, mischievously, and Eugenia replied, "Oh,
pshaw! We shall never get more than five hundred a year from Uncle Nat,
but I don't much care. Old Mr. Grey is wealthy, and if Mr. Hastings
don't manifest any more interest in me than he has since he came here,
I shall let that foolish _Steve_ propose, much as I dislike him."
So saying, she clasped upon her arm a heavy bracelet, for which the sum
of forty dollars had been paid, and descended with her mother and
sister to the parlor. Mrs. Elliott and Dora were there before her--the
former leaning on Mr. Hastings's arm, while the latter was already
surrounded by a group of admirers, a few of whom had met her before.
She was standing with her back towards Eugenia, who singled her out in
a moment, as her rival, noticing first her magnificent hair, in which
an ornament of any kind would have been out of place, and which was
confined at the back of the head by a small and elegantly wrought gold
comb. Her dress was perfectly plain, consisting simply of white India
muslin, which fitted her admirably and seemed well adapted to her
youthful form.
"Who is she?" inquired Eugenia of Uncle Nat, who had stationed himself
near the door, on purpose to see how the first sight of Dora would
affect her.
"Who is she!" he replied. "Strange you don't know your own cousin _Dora
Deane_," and a look of intense satisfaction danced in his keen eyes, as
he saw the expression of astonishment which passed over Eugenia's face.
"Impossible!" she exclaimed, while a pang of envy shot through her
heart. "That stylish looking girl can't be Dora! Why, I always supposed
Mrs. Elliott made a half servant, half companion of her. She never told
us any different;" and with a vague hope that the old South American
might be mistaken, she took a step or two forward just as Dora turned
round, disclosing to view her face.
There was no longer any doubt, and with mingled feelings of surprise,
mortification, jealousy, and rage, Eugenia advanced to meet her, wisely
resolving as she did so to make the best of it, and never let her
cousin know how much annoyed she was. Both Mrs. Deane and Alice were
greeted kindly by Dora, who could scarcely be more than polite to
Eugenia, and when the latter made a movement to kiss her, she
involuntarily drew back, feeling that she could not suffer it.
"Grown suddenly very proud," muttered Eugenia, at the same time
determining that her mother should insist upon taking Dora home with
them, and secretly exulting as she thought how she should again work in
the dark kitchen at Locust Grove, as she had done before. "That'll
remove some of her fine airs, I reckon," she thought, as, with bitter
hatred at her heart, she watched her young cousin, who, throughout the
entire evening, continued to be the center of attraction.
Everybody asked who she was; everybody pronounced her beautiful, and
everybody neglected Eugenia Deane, who, greatly enraged, retired early,
and vented her wrath in tears, to think that the once despised Dora
should now be so far above her.
"But it shall not be," she said, and then to her mother she unfolded
her plan of having Dora go home with them immediately. "I'd as soon be
in Joppa as to stay here with her for a rival," she said. "Mr. Hastings
don't care for me, I know, and I hate that old codger of a Hamilton,
with his sarcastic remarks and prying eyes. I've been here long enough,
and I mean to go home."
To this proposition Mrs. Deane assented willingly; but she expressed
her doubts concerning her ability to make Dora accompany them.
"Of course she'll go," said Eugenia. "Her mother placed her under your
control, and she is bound to obey."
Yielding at last, as she generally did, Mrs. Deane promised to see what
she could do, and the next day she announced to Mrs. Elliott her
intention of taking _Dora_ home with her. "I am grateful for all you
have done for her," said she; "but we need her, and cannot spare her
any longer, so, Dora dear," turning to her niece, "pack up your things,
and we will start to-morrow morning."
Had Uncle Nat been there, he would, undoubtedly, have exploded at once;
but he was not present, neither was Mr. Hastings, and it remained for
Mrs. Elliott alone to reply, which she did firmly and decidedly. "No,
Mrs. Deane, Dora cannot go. She was committed to your care, I know, but
you gave her up to me, and I shall not part with her unless I am
legally compelled to do so, or she wishes to go. She can answer this
last for herself," and she turned towards Dora, who, drawing nearer to
her, replied, "I am sorry to disobey you, Aunt Sarah, but I cannot
leave Mrs. Elliott."
Mrs. Deane was not very courageous, and unwilling to press her claim,
she turned away and reported her ill-success to Eugenia, who heaped a
torrent of abuse upon both Mrs. Elliott, Dora, the old South American,
and Mr. Hastings, who, she declared, were all leagued against them.
"But I don't care," said she, "old Mr. Grey is quite as wealthy as Mr.
Hastings, and by saying the word, I can marry _Steve_ at any time; and
I will do it, too," she continued, "and that proud Mrs. Elliott shall
yet be obliged to meet me on terms of equality, for she will not dare
to neglect _the Greys!_"
Somewhat comforted by this thought, she dried her tears, and signified
her willingness to start for home on the morrow, even if Dora did not
accompany her. As yet, she had no suspicion whatever of the engagement
existing between Mr. Hastings and her cousin. There was nothing in the
manner of either to betray it, and when, next morning, attired in her
traveling dress, she stood with them upon the piazza, she little
thought how and where she would next meet them. At her side was Stephen
Grey. He had been won over by her gracious smiles the night previous,
and was now going with her as far as Rochester, where, if a favorable
opportunity were presented, he intended offering himself for her
acceptance. Uncle Nat was not present, and Eugenia was glad that it was
so, for there was something about him exceedingly annoying to her, and
she always felt relieved at his absence.
"Why do you go so soon? I thought you were intending to spend the
summer," said one of her old admirers; and with a scornful toss of her
head, she replied, "It is getting so insufferably dull here, that I
can't endure it any longer."
Just then the omnibus was announced, and with a hurried good-by, she
followed her baggage down the stairs, and amid a cloud of dust was
driven rapidly away, while Uncle Nat, from his chamber window, sent
after her a not very complimentary or affectionate adieu. Arrived at
the hotel in Rochester, where Eugenia had once waited in vain for Mr.
Hastings, Stephen Grey managed to hear from her again, that she had
well founded hopes of being one of the heirs of Nathaniel Deane, who,
she said, sent them annually a sum of money varying from five to
fifteen hundred dollars. This was quite a consideration for one whose
finances were low, and whose father, while threatening to disinherit
him, was himself on the verge of bankruptcy, and thinking the annual
remittance worth securing, even if the _will_ should fail, Stephen
found an opportunity to go down on his knees before her after the most
approved fashion, telling her that "she alone could make him happy, and
that without her he should be wretched;" and she, knowing just how much
in earnest he was, promised to be his wife, intending the while to
break that promise if she saw in Mr. Hastings any signs of renewed
interest. So when Stephen pressed her to name an early day, she put him
off, telling him she could not think of being married until near the
middle of autumn, and at the same time requesting him to keep their
engagement a secret, for she did not wish it to be a subject of remark,
as engaged people always were. To this, Stephen consented willingly, as
he would thus escape, for a time, his mother's anger. And so when,
tired, jaded, cross and dusty, Eugenia Deane reached Locust Grove, she
had the satisfaction of knowing that her trip to the Springs had been
successful, inasmuch as it procured for her "_a husband such as he
was_."