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diff --git a/3700-0.txt b/3700-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd4cf3b --- /dev/null +++ b/3700-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1715 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Courtship of Susan Bell, by Anthony +Trollope, Illustrated by Marcus Stone + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Courtship of Susan Bell + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: January 16, 2015 [eBook #3700] +[This file was first posted on July 25, 2001] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COURTSHIP OF SUSAN BELL*** + + +Transcribed from the 1864 Chapman & Hall, “Tales of All Countries,” +edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: The Courtship of Susan Bell, a frontispiece by Marcus Stone] + + + + + + THE COURTSHIP OF SUSAN BELL. + + +JOHN MUNROE BELL had been a lawyer in Albany, State of New York, and as +such had thriven well. He had thriven well as long as thrift and +thriving on this earth had been allowed to him. But the Almighty had +seen fit to shorten his span. + +Early in life he had married a timid, anxious, pretty, good little wife, +whose whole heart and mind had been given up to do his bidding and +deserve his love. She had not only deserved it but had possessed it, and +as long as John Munroe Bell had lived, Henrietta Bell—Hetta as he called +her—had been a woman rich in blessings. After twelve years of such +blessings he had left her, and had left with her two daughters, a second +Hetta, and the heroine of our little story, Susan Bell. + +A lawyer in Albany may thrive passing well for eight or ten years, and +yet not leave behind him any very large sum of money if he dies at the +end of that time. Some small modicum, some few thousand dollars, John +Bell had amassed, so that his widow and daughters were not absolutely +driven to look for work or bread. + +In those happy days when cash had begun to flow in plenteously to the +young father of the family, he had taken it into his head to build for +himself, or rather for his young female brood, a small neat house in the +outskirts of Saratoga Springs. In doing so he was instigated as much by +the excellence of the investment for his pocket as by the salubrity of +the place for his girls. He furnished the house well, and then during +some summer weeks his wife lived there, and sometimes he let it. + +How the widow grieved when the lord of her heart and master of her mind +was laid in the grave, I need not tell. She had already counted ten +years of widowhood, and her children had grown to be young women beside +her at the time of which I am now about to speak. Since that sad day on +which they had left Albany they had lived together at the cottage at the +Springs. In winter their life had been lonely enough; but as soon as the +hot weather began to drive the fainting citizens out from New York, they +had always received two or three boarders—old ladies generally, and +occasionally an old gentleman—persons of very steady habits, with whose +pockets the widow’s moderate demands agreed better than the hotel +charges. And so the Bells lived for ten years. + +That Saratoga is a gay place in July, August, and September, the world +knows well enough. To girls who go there with trunks full of muslin and +crinoline, for whom a carriage and pair of horses is always waiting +immediately after dinner, whose fathers’ pockets are bursting with +dollars, it is a very gay place. Dancing and flirtations come as a +matter of course, and matrimony follows after with only too great +rapidity. But the place was not very gay for Hetta or Susan Bell. + +In the first place the widow was a timid woman, and among other fears +feared greatly that she should be thought guilty of setting traps for +husbands. Poor mothers! how often are they charged with this sin when +their honest desires go no further than that their bairns may be +“respectit like the lave.” And then she feared flirtations; flirtations +that should be that and nothing more, flirtations that are so destructive +of the heart’s sweetest essence. She feared love also, though she longed +for that as well as feared it;—for her girls, I mean; all such feelings +for herself were long laid under ground;—and then, like a timid creature +as she was, she had other indefinite fears, and among them a great fear +that those girls of hers would be left husbandless,—a phase of life which +after her twelve years of bliss she regarded as anything but desirable. +But the upshot was,—the upshot of so many fears and such small +means,—that Hetta and Susan Bell had but a dull life of it. + +Were it not that I am somewhat closely restricted in the number of my +pages, I would describe at full the merits and beauties of Hetta and +Susan Bell. As it is I can but say a few words. At our period of their +lives Hetta was nearly one-and-twenty, and Susan was just nineteen. +Hetta was a short, plump, demure young woman, with the softest smoothed +hair, and the brownest brightest eyes. She was very useful in the house, +good at corn cakes, and thought much, particularly in these latter +months, of her religious duties. Her sister in the privacy of their own +little room would sometimes twit her with the admiring patience with +which she would listen to the lengthened eloquence of Mr. Phineas +Beckard, the Baptist minister. Now Mr. Phineas Beckard was a bachelor. + +Susan was not so good a girl in the kitchen or about the house as was her +sister; but she was bright in the parlour, and if that motherly heart +could have been made to give out its inmost secret—which however, it +could not have been made to give out in any way painful to dear +Hetta—perhaps it might have been found that Susan was loved with the +closest love. She was taller than her sister, and lighter; her eyes were +blue as were her mother’s; her hair was brighter than Hetta’s, but not +always so singularly neat. She had a dimple on her chin, whereas Hetta +had none; dimples on her cheeks too, when she smiled; and, oh, such a +mouth! There; my allowance of pages permits no more. + +One piercing cold winter’s day there came knocking at the widow’s door—a +young man. Winter days, when the ice of January is refrozen by the wind +of February, are very cold at Saratoga Springs. In these days there was +not often much to disturb the serenity of Mrs. Bell’s house; but on the +day in question there came knocking at the door—a young man. + +Mrs. Bell kept an old domestic, who had lived with them in those happy +Albany days. Her name was Kate O’Brien, but though picturesque in name +she was hardly so in person. She was a thick-set, noisy, good-natured +old Irishwoman, who had joined her lot to that of Mrs. Bell when the +latter first began housekeeping, and knowing when she was well off; had +remained in the same place from that day forth. She had known Hetta as a +baby, and, so to say, had seen Susan’s birth. + +“And what might you be wanting, sir?” said Kate O’Brien, apparently not +quite pleased as she opened the door and let in all the cold air. + +“I wish to see Mrs. Bell. Is not this Mrs. Bell’s house?” said the young +man, shaking the snow from out of the breast of his coat. + +He did see Mrs. Bell, and we will now tell who he was, and why he had +come, and how it came to pass that his carpet-bag was brought down to the +widow’s house and one of the front bedrooms was prepared for him, and +that he drank tea that night in the widow’s parlour. + +His name was Aaron Dunn, and by profession he was an engineer. What +peculiar misfortune in those days of frost and snow had befallen the line +of rails which runs from Schenectady to Lake Champlain, I never quite +understood. Banks and bridges had in some way come to grief, and on +Aaron Dunn’s shoulders was thrown the burden of seeing that they were +duly repaired. Saratoga Springs was the centre of these mishaps, and +therefore at Saratoga Springs it was necessary that he should take up his +temporary abode. + +Now there was at that time in New York city a Mr. Bell, great in railway +matters—an uncle of the once thriving but now departed Albany lawyer. He +was a rich man, but he liked his riches himself; or at any rate had not +found himself called upon to share them with the widow and daughters of +his nephew. But when it chanced to come to pass that he had a hand in +despatching Aaron Dunn to Saratoga, he took the young man aside and +recommended him to lodge with the widow. “There,” said he, “show her my +card.” So much the rich uncle thought he might vouchsafe to do for the +nephew’s widow. + +Mrs. Bell and both her daughters were in the parlour when Aaron Dunn was +shown in, snow and all. He told his story in a rough, shaky voice, for +his teeth chattered; and he gave the card, almost wishing that he had +gone to the empty big hotel, for the widow’s welcome was not at first +quite warm. + +The widow listened to him as he gave his message, and then she took the +card and looked at it. Hetta, who was sitting on the side of the +fireplace facing the door, went on demurely with her work. Susan gave +one glance round—her back was to the stranger—and then another; and then +she moved her chair a little nearer to the wall, so as to give the young +man room to come to the fire, if he would. He did not come, but his eyes +glanced upon Susan Bell; and he thought that the old man in New York was +right, and that the big hotel would be cold and dull. It was a pretty +face to look on that cold evening as she turned it up from the stocking +she was mending. + +“Perhaps you don’t wish to take winter boarders, ma’am?” said Aaron Dunn. + +“We never have done so yet, sir,” said Mrs. Bell timidly. Could she let +this young wolf in among her lamb-fold? He might be a wolf;—who could +tell? + +“Mr. Bell seemed to think it would suit,” said Aaron. + +Had he acquiesced in her timidity and not pressed the point, it would +have been all up with him. But the widow did not like to go against the +big uncle; and so she said, “Perhaps it may, sir.” + +“I guess it will, finely,” said Aaron. And then the widow seeing that +the matter was so far settled, put down her work and came round into the +passage. Hetta followed her, for there would be housework to do. Aaron +gave himself another shake, settled the weekly number of dollars—with +very little difficulty on his part, for he had caught another glance at +Susan’s face; and then went after his bag. ’Twas thus that Aaron Dunn +obtained an entrance into Mrs. Bell’s house. “But what if he be a wolf?” +she said to herself over and over again that night, though not exactly in +those words. Ay, but there is another side to that question. What if he +be a stalwart man, honest-minded, with clever eye, cunning hand, ready +brain, broad back, and warm heart; in want of a wife mayhap; a man that +can earn his own bread and another’s;—half a dozen others’ when the half +dozen come? Would not that be a good sort of lodger? Such a question as +that too did flit, just flit, across the widow’s sleepless mind. But +then she thought so much more of the wolf! Wolves, she had taught +herself to think, were more common than stalwart, honest-minded, +wife-desirous men. + +“I wonder mother consented to take him,” said Hetta, when they were in +the little room together. + +“And why shouldn’t she?” said Susan. “It will be a help.” + +“Yes, it will be a little help,” said Hetta. “But we have done very well +hitherto without winter lodgers.” + +“But uncle Bell said she was to.” + +“What is uncle Bell to us?” said Hetta, who had a spirit of her own. And +she began to surmise within herself whether Aaron Dunn would join the +Baptist congregation, and whether Phineas Beckard would approve of this +new move. + +“He is a very well-behaved young man at any rate,” said Susan, “and he +draws beautifully. Did you see those things he was doing?” + +“He draws very well, I dare say,” said Hetta, who regarded this as but a +poor warranty for good behaviour. Hetta also had some fear of wolves—not +for herself perhaps; but for her sister. + +Aaron Dunn’s work—the commencement of his work—lay at some distance from +the Springs, and he left every morning with a lot of workmen by an early +train—almost before daylight. And every morning, cold and wintry as the +mornings were, the widow got him his breakfast with her own hands. She +took his dollars and would not leave him altogether to the awkward +mercies of Kate O’Brien; nor would she trust her girls to attend upon the +young man. Hetta she might have trusted; but then Susan would have asked +why she was spared her share of such hardship. + +In the evening, leaving his work when it was dark, Aaron always returned, +and then the evening was passed together. But they were passed with the +most demure propriety. These women would make the tea, cut the bread and +butter, and then sew; while Aaron Dunn, when the cups were removed, would +always go to his plans and drawings. + +On Sundays they were more together; but even on this day there was cause +of separation, for Aaron went to the Episcopalian church, rather to the +disgust of Hetta. In the afternoon, however, they were together; and +then Phineas Beckard came in to tea on Sundays, and he and Aaron got to +talking on religion; and though they disagreed pretty much, and would not +give an inch either one or the other, nevertheless the minister told the +widow, and Hetta too probably, that the lad had good stuff in him, though +he was so stiff-necked. + +“But he should be more modest in talking on such matters with a +minister,” said Hetta. + +The Rev. Phineas acknowledged that perhaps he should; but he was honest +enough to repeat that the lad had stuff in him. “Perhaps after all he is +not a wolf,” said the widow to herself. + +Things went on in this way for above a month. Aaron had declared to +himself over and over again that that face was sweet to look upon, and +had unconsciously promised to himself certain delights in talking and +perhaps walking with the owner of it. But the walkings had not been +achieved—nor even the talkings as yet. The truth was that Dunn was +bashful with young women, though he could be so stiff-necked with the +minister. + +And then he felt angry with himself, inasmuch as he had advanced no +further; and as he lay in his bed—which perhaps those pretty hands had +helped to make—he resolved that he would be a thought bolder in his +bearing. He had no idea of making love to Susan Bell; of course not. +But why should he not amuse himself by talking to a pretty girl when she +sat so near him, evening after evening? + +“What a very quiet young man he is,” said Susan to her sister. + +“He has his bread to earn, and sticks to his work,” said Hetta. “No +doubt he has his amusement when he is in the city,” added the elder +sister, not wishing to leave too strong an impression of the young man’s +virtue. + +They had all now their settled places in the parlour. Hetta sat on one +side of the fire, close to the table, having that side to herself. There +she sat always busy. She must have made every dress and bit of linen +worn in the house, and hemmed every sheet and towel, so busy was she +always. Sometimes, once in a week or so, Phineas Beckard would come in, +and then place was made for him between Hetta’s usual seat and the table. +For when there he would read out loud. On the other side, close also to +the table, sat the widow, busy, but not savagely busy as her elder +daughter. Between Mrs. Bell and the wall, with her feet ever on the +fender, Susan used to sit; not absolutely idle, but doing work of some +slender pretty sort, and talking ever and anon to her mother. Opposite +to them all, at the other side of the table, far away from the fire, +would Aaron Dunn place himself with his plans and drawings before him. + +“Are you a judge of bridges, ma’am?” said Aaron, the evening after he had +made his resolution. ’Twas thus he began his courtship. + +“Of bridges?” said Mrs. Bell—“oh dear no, sir.” But she put out her hand +to take the little drawing which Aaron handed to her. + +“Because that’s one I’ve planned for our bit of a new branch from Moreau +up to Lake George. I guess Miss Susan knows something about bridges.” + +“I guess I don’t,” said Susan—“only that they oughtn’t to tumble down +when the frost comes.” + +“Ha, ha, ha; no more they ought. I’ll tell McEvoy that.” McEvoy had +been a former engineer on the line. “Well, that won’t burst with any +frost, I guess.” + +“Oh my! how pretty!” said the widow, and then Susan of course jumped up +to look over her mother’s shoulder. + +The artful dodger! he had drawn and coloured a beautiful little sketch of +a bridge; not an engineer’s plan with sections and measurements, +vexatious to a woman’s eye, but a graceful little bridge with a string of +cars running under it. You could almost hear the bell going. + +“Well; that is a pretty bridge,” said Susan. “Isn’t it, Hetta?” + +“I don’t know anything about bridges,” said Hetta, to whose clever eyes +the dodge was quite apparent. But in spite of her cleverness Mrs. Bell +and Susan had soon moved their chairs round to the table, and were +looking through the contents of Aaron’s portfolio. “But yet he may be a +wolf,” thought the poor widow, just as she was kneeling down to say her +prayers. + +That evening certainly made a commencement. Though Hetta went on +pertinaciously with the body of a new dress, the other two ladies did not +put in another stitch that night. From his drawings Aaron got to his +instruments, and before bedtime was teaching Susan how to draw parallel +lines. Susan found that she had quite an aptitude for parallel lines, +and altogether had a good time of it that evening. It is dull to go on +week after week, and month after month, talking only to one’s mother and +sister. It is dull though one does not oneself recognise it to be so. A +little change in such matters is so very pleasant. Susan had not the +slightest idea of regarding Aaron as even a possible lover. But young +ladies do like the conversation of young gentlemen. Oh, my exceedingly +proper prim old lady, you who are so shocked at this as a general +doctrine, has it never occurred to you that the Creator has so intended +it? + +Susan understanding little of the how and why, knew that she had had a +good time, and was rather in spirits as she went to bed. But Hetta had +been frightened by the dodge. + +“Oh, Hetta, you should have looked at those drawings. He is so clever!” +said Susan. + +“I don’t know that they would have done me much good,” replied Hetta. + +“Good! Well, they’d do me more good than a long sermon, I know,” said +Susan; “except on a Sunday, of course,” she added apologetically. This +was an ill-tempered attack both on Hetta and Hetta’s admirer. But then +why had Hetta been so snappish? + +“I’m sure he’s a wolf;” thought Hetta as she went to bed. + +“What a very clever young man he is!” thought Susan to herself as she +pulled the warm clothes round about her shoulders and ears. + +“Well that certainly was an improvement,” thought Aaron as he went +through the same operation, with a stronger feeling of self-approbation +than he had enjoyed for some time past. + +In the course of the next fortnight the family arrangements all altered +themselves. Unless when Beckard was there Aaron would sit in the widow’s +place, the widow would take Susan’s chair, and the two girls would be +opposite. And then Dunn would read to them; not sermons, but passages +from Shakspeare, and Byron, and Longfellow. “He reads much better than +Mr. Beckard,” Susan had said one night. “Of course you’re a competent +judge!” had been Hetta’s retort. “I mean that I like it better,” said +Susan. “It’s well that all people don’t think alike,” replied Hetta. + +And then there was a deal of talking. The widow herself, as unconscious +in this respect as her youngest daughter, certainly did find that a +little variety was agreeable on those long winter nights; and talked +herself with unaccustomed freedom. And Beckard came there oftener and +talked very much. When he was there the two young men did all the +talking, and they pounded each other immensely. But still there grew up +a sort of friendship between them. + +“Mr. Beckard seems quite to take to him,” said Mrs. Bell to her eldest +daughter. + +“It is his great good nature, mother,” replied Hetta. + +It was at the end of the second month when Aaron took another step in +advance—a perilous step. Sometimes on evenings he still went on with his +drawing for an hour or so; but during three or four evenings he never +asked any one to look at what he was doing. On one Friday he sat over +his work till late, without any reading or talking at all; so late that +at last Mrs. Bell said, “If you’re going to sit much longer, Mr. Dunn, +I’ll get you to put out the candles.” Thereby showing, had he known it +or had she, that the mother’s confidence in the young man was growing +fast. Hetta knew all about it, and dreaded that the growth was too +quick. + +“I’ve finished now,” said Aaron; and he looked carefully at the cardboard +on which he had been washing in his water-colours. “I’ve finished now.” +He then hesitated a moment; but ultimately he put the card into his +portfolio and carried it up to his bedroom. Who does not perceive that +it was intended as a present to Susan Bell? + +The question which Aaron asked himself that night, and which he hardly +knew how to answer, was this. Should he offer the drawing to Susan in +the presence of her mother and sister, or on some occasion when they two +might be alone together? No such occasion had ever yet occurred, but +Aaron thought that it might probably be brought about. But then he +wanted to make no fuss about it. His first intention had been to chuck +the drawing lightly across the table when it was completed, and so make +nothing of it. But he had finished it with more care than he had at +first intended; and then he had hesitated when he had finished it. It +was too late now for that plan of chucking it over the table. + +On the Saturday evening when he came down from his room, Mr. Beckard was +there, and there was no opportunity that night. On the Sunday, in +conformity with a previous engagement, he went to hear Mr. Beckard +preach, and walked to and from meeting with the family. This pleased +Mrs. Bell, and they were all very gracious that afternoon. But Sunday +was no day for the picture. + +On Monday the thing had become of importance to him. Things always do +when they are kept over. Before tea that evening when he came down Mrs. +Bell and Susan only were in the room. He knew Hetta for his foe, and +therefore determined to use this occasion. + +“Miss Susan,” he said, stammering somewhat, and blushing too, poor fool! +“I have done a little drawing which I want you to accept,” and he put his +portfolio down on the table. + +“Oh! I don’t know,” said Susan, who had seen the blush. + +Mrs. Bell had seen the blush also, and pursed her mouth up, and looked +grave. Had there been no stammering and no blush, she might have thought +nothing of it. + +Aaron saw at once that his little gift was not to go down smoothly. He +was, however, in for it now, so he picked it out from among the other +papers in the case and brought it over to Susan. He endeavoured to hand +it to her with an air of indifference, but I cannot say that he +succeeded. + +It was a very pretty, well-finished, water-coloured drawing, representing +still the same bridge, but with more adjuncts. In Susan’s eyes it was a +work of high art. Of pictures probably she had seen but little, and her +liking for the artist no doubt added to her admiration. But the more she +admired it and wished for it, the stronger was her feeling that she ought +not to take it. + +Poor Susan! she stood for a minute looking at the drawing, but she said +nothing; not even a word of praise. She felt that she was red in the +face, and uncourteous to their lodger; but her mother was looking at her +and she did not know how to behave herself. + +Mrs. Bell put out her hand for the sketch, trying to bethink herself as +she did so in what least uncivil way she could refuse the present. She +took a moment to look at it collecting her thoughts, and as she did so +her woman’s wit came to her aid. + +“Oh dear, Mr. Dunn, it is very pretty; quite a beautiful picture. I +cannot let Susan rob you of that. You must keep that for some of your +own particular friends.” + +“But I did it for her,” said Aaron innocently. + +Susan looked down at the ground, half pleased at the declaration. The +drawing would look very pretty in a small gilt frame put over her +dressing-table. But the matter now was altogether in her mother’s hands. + +“I am afraid it is too valuable, sir, for Susan to accept.” + +“It is not valuable at all,” said Aaron, declining to take it back from +the widow’s hand. + +“Oh, I am quite sure it is. It is worth ten dollars at least—or twenty,” +said poor Mrs. Bell, not in the very best taste. But she was perplexed, +and did not know how to get out of the scrape. The article in question +now lay upon the table-cloth, appropriated by no one, and at this moment +Hetta came into the room. + +“It is not worth ten cents,” said Aaron, with something like a frown on +his brow. “But as we had been talking about the bridge, I thought Miss +Susan would accept it.” + +“Accept what?” said Hetta. And then her eye fell upon the drawing and +she took it up. + +“It is beautifully done,” said Mrs. Bell, wishing much to soften the +matter; perhaps the more so that Hetta the demure was now present. “I am +telling Mr. Dunn that we can’t take a present of anything so valuable.” + +“Oh dear no,” said Hetta. “It wouldn’t be right.” + +It was a cold frosty evening in March, and the fire was burning brightly +on the hearth. Aaron Dunn took up the drawing quietly—very quietly—and +rolling it up, as such drawings are rolled, put it between the blazing +logs. It was the work of four evenings, and his chef-d’œuvre in the way +of art. + +Susan, when she saw what he had done, burst out into tears. The widow +could very readily have done so also, but she was able to refrain +herself, and merely exclaimed—“Oh, Mr. Dunn!” + +“If Mr. Dunn chooses to burn his own picture, he has certainly a right to +do so,” said Hetta. + +Aaron immediately felt ashamed of what he had done; and he also could +have cried, but for his manliness. He walked away to one of the +parlour-windows, and looked out upon the frosty night. It was dark, but +the stars were bright, and he thought that he should like to be walking +fast by himself along the line of rails towards Balston. There he stood, +perhaps for three minutes. He thought it would be proper to give Susan +time to recover from her tears. + +“Will you please to come to your tea, sir?” said the soft voice of Mrs. +Bell. + +He turned round to do so, and found that Susan was gone. It was not +quite in her power to recover from her tears in three minutes. And then +the drawing had been so beautiful! It had been done expressly for her +too! And there had been something, she knew not what, in his eye as he +had so declared. She had watched him intently over those four evenings’ +work, wondering why he did not show it, till her feminine curiosity had +become rather strong. It was something very particular, she was sure, +and she had learned that all that precious work had been for her. Now +all that precious work was destroyed. How was it possible that she +should not cry for more than three minutes? + +The others took their meal in perfect silence, and when it was over the +two women sat down to their work. Aaron had a book which he pretended to +read, but instead of reading he was bethinking himself that he had +behaved badly. What right had he to throw them all into such confusion +by indulging in his passion? He was ashamed of what he had done, and +fancied that Susan would hate him. Fancying that, he began to find at +the same time that he by no means hated her. + +At last Hetta got up and left the room. She knew that her sister was +sitting alone in the cold, and Hetta was affectionate. Susan had not +been in fault, and therefore Hetta went up to console her. + +“Mrs. Bell,” said Aaron, as soon as the door was closed, “I beg your +pardon for what I did just now.” + +“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry that the picture is burnt,” said poor Mrs. Bell. + +“The picture does not matter a straw,” said Aaron. “But I see that I +have disturbed you all,—and I am afraid I have made Miss Susan unhappy.” + +“She was grieved because your picture was burnt,” said Mrs. Bell, putting +some emphasis on the “your,” intending to show that her daughter had not +regarded the drawing as her own. But the emphasis bore another meaning; +and so the widow perceived as soon as she had spoken. + +“Oh, I can do twenty more of the same if anybody wanted them,” said +Aaron. “If I do another like it, will you let her take it, Mrs. +Bell?—just to show that you have forgiven me, and that we are friends as +we were before?” + +Was he, or was he not a wolf? That was the question which Mrs. Bell +scarcely knew how to answer. Hetta had given her voice, saying he was +lupine. Mr. Beckard’s opinion she had not liked to ask directly. Mr. +Beckard she thought would probably propose to Hetta; but as yet he had +not done so. And, as he was still a stranger in the family, she did not +like in any way to compromise Susan’s name. Indirectly she had asked the +question, and, indirectly also, Mr. Beckard’s answer had been favourable. + +“But it mustn’t mean anything, sir,” was the widow’s weak answer, when +she had paused on the question for a moment. + +“Oh no, of course not,” said Aaron, joyously, and his face became radiant +and happy. “And I do beg your pardon for burning it; and the young +ladies’ pardon too.” And then he rapidly got out his cardboard, and set +himself to work about another bridge. The widow, meditating many things +in her heart, commenced the hemming of a handkerchief. + +In about an hour the two girls came back to the room and silently took +their accustomed places. Aaron hardly looked up, but went on diligently +with his drawing. This bridge should be a better bridge than that other. +Its acceptance was now assured. Of course it was to mean nothing. That +was a matter of course. So he worked away diligently, and said nothing +to anybody. + +When they went off to bed the two girls went into the mother’s room. +“Oh, mother, I hope he is not very angry,” said Susan. + +“Angry!” said Hetta, “if anybody should be angry, it is mother. He ought +to have known that Susan could not accept it. He should never have +offered it.” + +“But he’s doing another,” said Mrs. Bell. + +“Not for her,” said Hetta. + +“Yes he is,” said Mrs. Bell, “and I have promised that she shall take +it.” Susan as she heard this sank gently into the chair behind her, and +her eyes became full of tears. The intimation was almost too much for +her. + +“Oh, mother!” said Hetta. + +“But I particularly said that it was to mean nothing.” + +“Oh, mother, that makes it worse.” + +Why should Hetta interfere in this way, thought Susan to herself. Had +she interfered when Mr. Beckard gave Hetta a testament bound in Morocco? +had not she smiled, and looked gratified, and kissed her sister, and +declared that Phineas Beckard was a nice dear man, and by far the most +elegant preacher at the Springs? Why should Hetta be so cruel? + +“I don’t see that, my dear,” said the mother. Hetta would not explain +before her sister, so they all went to bed. + +On the Thursday evening the drawing was finished. Not a word had been +said about it, at any rate in his presence, and he had gone on working in +silence. “There,” said he, late on the Thursday evening, “I don’t know +that it will be any better if I go on daubing for another hour. There, +Miss Susan; there’s another bridge. I hope that will neither burst with +the frost, nor yet be destroyed by fire,” and he gave it a light flip +with his fingers and sent it skimming over the table. + +Susan blushed and smiled, and took it up. “Oh, it is beautiful,” she +said. “Isn’t it beautifully done, mother?” and then all the three got up +to look at it, and all confessed that it was excellently done. + +“And I am sure we are very much obliged to you,” said Susan after a +pause, remembering that she had not yet thanked him. + +“Oh, it’s nothing,” said he, not quite liking the word “we.” On the +following day he returned from his work to Saratoga about noon. This he +had never done before, and therefore no one expected that he would be +seen in the house before the evening. On this occasion, however, he went +straight thither, and as chance would have it, both the widow and her +elder daughter were out. Susan was there alone in charge of the house. + +He walked in and opened the parlour door. There she sat, with her feet +on the fender, with her work unheeded on the table behind her, and the +picture, Aaron’s drawing, lying on her knees. She was gazing at it +intently as he entered, thinking in her young heart that it possessed all +the beauties which a picture could possess. + +“Oh, Mr. Dunn,” she said, getting up and holding the telltale sketch +behind the skirt of her dress. + +“Miss Susan, I have come here to tell your mother that I must start for +New York this afternoon and be there for six weeks, or perhaps longer.” + +“Mother is out,” said she; “I’m so sorry.” + +“Is she?” said Aaron. + +“And Hetta too. Dear me. And you’ll be wanting dinner. I’ll go and see +about it.” + +Aaron began to swear that he could not possibly eat any dinner. He had +dined once, and was going to dine again;—anything to keep her from going. + +“But you must have something, Mr. Dunn,” and she walked towards the door. + +But he put his back to it. “Miss Susan,” said he, “I guess I’ve been +here nearly two months.” + +“Yes, sir, I believe you have,” she replied, shaking in her shoes, and +not knowing which way to look. + +“And I hope we have been good friends.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Susan, almost beside herself as to what she was saying. + +“I’m going away now, and it seems to be such a time before I’ll be back.” + +“Will it, Sir?” + +“Six weeks, Miss Susan!” and then he paused, looking into her eyes, to +see what he could read there. She leant against the table, pulling to +pieces a morsel of half-ravelled muslin which she held in her hand; but +her eyes were turned to the ground, and he could hardly see them. + +“Miss Susan,” he continued, “I may as well speak out now as at another +time.” He too was looking towards the ground, and clearly did not know +what to do with his hands. “The truth is just this. I—I love you +dearly, with all my heart. I never saw any one I ever thought so +beautiful, so nice, and so good;—and what’s more, I never shall. I’m not +very good at this sort of thing, I know; but I couldn’t go away from +Saratoga for six weeks and not tell you.” And then he ceased. He did +not ask for any love in return. His presumption had not got so far as +that yet. He merely declared his passion, leaning against the door, and +there he stood twiddling his thumbs. + +Susan had not the slightest conception of the way in which she ought to +receive such a declaration. She had never had a lover before; nor had +she ever thought of Aaron absolutely as a lover, though something very +like love for him had been crossing over her spirit. Now, at this +moment, she felt that he was the beau-idéal of manhood, though his boots +were covered with the railway mud, and though his pantaloons were tucked +up in rolls round his ankles. He was a fine, well-grown, open-faced +fellow, whose eye was bold and yet tender, whose brow was full and broad, +and all his bearing manly. Love him! Of course she loved him. Why else +had her heart melted with pleasure when her mother said that that second +picture was to be accepted? + +But what was she to say? Anything but the open truth; she well knew +that. The open truth would not do at all. What would her mother say and +Hetta if she were rashly to say that? Hetta, she knew, would be dead +against such a lover, and of her mother’s approbation she had hardly more +hope. Why they should disapprove of Aaron as a lover she had never asked +herself. There are many nice things that seem to be wrong only because +they are so nice. Maybe that Susan regarded a lover as one of them. +“Oh, Mr. Dunn, you shouldn’t.” That in fact was all that she could say. + +“Should not I?” said he. “Well, perhaps not; but there’s the truth, and +no harm ever comes of that. Perhaps I’d better not ask you for an answer +now, but I thought it better you should know it all. And remember this—I +only care for one thing now in the world, and that is for your love.” +And then he paused, thinking possibly that in spite of what he had said +he might perhaps get some sort of an answer, some inkling of the state of +her heart’s disposition towards him. + +But Susan had at once resolved to take him at his word when he suggested +that an immediate reply was not necessary. To say that she loved him was +of course impossible, and to say that she did not was equally so. She +determined therefore to close at once with the offer of silence. + +When he ceased speaking there was a moment’s pause, during which he +strove hard to read what might be written on her down-turned face. But +he was not good at such reading. “Well, I guess I’ll go and get my +things ready now,” he said, and then turned round to open the door. + +“Mother will be in before you are gone, I suppose,” said Susan. + +“I have only got twenty minutes,” said he, looking at his watch. “But, +Susan, tell her what I have said to you. Goodbye.” And he put out his +hand. He knew he should see her again, but this had been his plan to get +her hand in his. + +“Good-bye, Mr. Dunn,” and she gave him her hand. + +He held it tight for a moment, so that she could not draw it away,—could +not if she would. “Will you tell your mother?” he asked. + +“Yes,” she answered, quite in a whisper. “I guess I’d better tell her.” +And then she gave a long sigh. He pressed her hand again and got it up +to his lips. + +“Mr. Dunn, don’t,” she said. But he did kiss it. “God bless you, my own +dearest, dearest girl! I’ll just open the door as I come down. Perhaps +Mrs. Bell will be here.” And then he rushed up stairs. + +But Mrs. Bell did not come in. She and Hetta were at a weekly service at +Mr. Beckard’s meeting-house, and Mr. Beckard it seemed had much to say. +Susan, when left alone, sat down and tried to think. But she could not +think; she could only love. She could use her mind only in recounting to +herself the perfections of that demigod whose heavy steps were so audible +overhead, as he walked to and fro collecting his things and putting them +into his bag. + +And then, just when he had finished, she bethought herself that he must +be hungry. She flew to the kitchen, but she was too late. Before she +could even reach at the loaf of bread he descended the stairs, with a +clattering noise, and heard her voice as she spoke quickly to Kate +O’Brien. + +“Miss Susan,” he said, “don’t get anything for me, for I’m off.” + +“Oh, Mr. Dunn, I am so sorry. You’ll be so hungry on your journey,” and +she came out to him in the passage. + +“I shall want nothing on the journey, dearest, if you’ll say one kind +word to me.” + +Again her eyes went to the ground. “What do you want me to say, Mr. +Dunn?” + +“Say, God bless you, Aaron.” + +“God bless you, Aaron,” said she; and yet she was sure that she had not +declared her love. He however thought otherwise, and went up to New York +with a happy heart. + +Things happened in the next fortnight rather quickly. Susan at once +resolved to tell her mother, but she resolved also not to tell Hetta. +That afternoon she got her mother to herself in Mrs. Bell’s own room, and +then she made a clean breast of it. + +“And what did you say to him, Susan?” + +“I said nothing, mother.” + +“Nothing, dear!” + +“No, mother; not a word. He told me he didn’t want it.” She forgot how +she had used his Christian name in bidding God bless him. + +“Oh dear!” said the widow. + +“Was it very wrong?” asked Susan. + +“But what do you think yourself, my child?” asked Mrs. Bell after a +while. “What are your own feelings.” + +Mrs. Bell was sitting on a chair and Susan was standing opposite to her +against the post of the bed. She made no answer, but moving from her +place, she threw herself into her mother’s arms, and hid her face on her +mother’s shoulder. It was easy enough to guess what were her feelings. + +“But, my darling,” said her mother, “you must not think that it is an +engagement.” + +“No,” said Susan, sorrowfully. + +“Young men say those things to amuse themselves.” Wolves, she would have +said, had she spoken out her mind freely. + +“Oh, mother, he is not like that.” + +The daughter contrived to extract a promise from the mother that Hetta +should not be told just at present. Mrs. Bell calculated that she had +six weeks before her; as yet Mr. Beckard had not spoken out, but there +was reason to suppose that he would do so before those six weeks would be +over, and then she would be able to seek counsel from him. + +Mr. Beckard spoke out at the end of six days, and Hetta frankly accepted +him. “I hope you’ll love your brother-in-law,” said she to Susan. + +“Oh, I will indeed,” said Susan; and in the softness of her heart at the +moment she almost made up her mind to tell; but Hetta was full of her own +affairs, and thus it passed off. + +It was then arranged that Hetta should go and spend a week with Mr. +Beckard’s parents. Old Mr. Beckard was a farmer living near Utica, and +now that the match was declared and approved, it was thought well that +Hetta should know her future husband’s family. So she went for a week, +and Mr. Beckard went with her. “He will be back in plenty of time for me +to speak to him before Aaron Dunn’s six weeks are over,” said Mrs. Bell +to herself. + +But things did not go exactly as she expected. On the very morning after +the departure of the engaged couple, there came a letter from Aaron, +saying that he would be at Saratoga that very evening. The railway +people had ordered him down again for some days’ special work; then he +was to go elsewhere, and not to return to Saratoga till June. “But he +hoped,” so said the letter, “that Mrs. Bell would not turn him into the +street even then, though the summer might have come, and her regular +lodgers might be expected.” + +“Oh dear, oh dear!” said Mrs. Bell to herself, reflecting that she had no +one of whom she could ask advice, and that she must decide that very day. +Why had she let Mr. Beckard go without telling him? Then she told Susan, +and Susan spent the day trembling. Perhaps, thought Mrs. Bell, he will +say nothing about it. In such case, however, would it not be her duty to +say something? Poor mother! She trembled nearly as much as Susan. + +It was dark when the fatal knock came at the door. The tea-things were +already laid, and the tea-cake was already baked; for it would at any +rate be necessary to give Mr. Dunn his tea. Susan, when she heard the +knock, rushed from her chair and took refuge up stairs. The widow gave a +long sigh and settled her dress. Kate O’Brien with willing step opened +the door, and bade her old friend welcome. + +“How are the ladies?” asked Aaron, trying to gather something from the +face and voice of the domestic. + +“Miss Hetta and Mr. Beckard be gone off to Utica, just man-and-wife like! +and so they are, more power to them.” + +“Oh indeed; I’m very glad,” said Aaron—and so he was; very glad to have +Hetta the demure out of the way. And then he made his way into the +parlour, doubting much, and hoping much. + +Mrs. Bell rose from her chair, and tried to look grave. Aaron glancing +round the room saw that Susan was not there. He walked straight up to +the widow, and offered her his hand, which she took. It might be that +Susan had not thought fit to tell, and in such case it would not be right +for him to compromise her; so he said never a word. + +But the subject was too important to the mother to allow of her being +silent when the young man stood before her. “Oh, Mr. Dunn,” said she, +“what is this you have been saying to Susan?” + +“I have asked her to be my wife,” said he, drawing himself up and looking +her full in the face. Mrs. Bell’s heart was almost as soft as her +daughter’s, and it was nearly gone; but at the moment she had nothing to +say but, “Oh dear, oh dear!” + +“May I not call you mother?” said he, taking both her hands in his. + +“Oh dear—oh dear! But will you be good to her? Oh, Aaron Dunn, if you +deceive my child!” + +In another quarter of an hour, Susan was kneeling at her mother’s knee, +with her face on her mother’s lap; the mother was wiping tears out of her +eyes; and Aaron was standing by holding one of the widow’s hands. + +“You are my mother too, now,” said he. What would Hetta and Mr. Beckard +say, when they came back? But then he surely was not a wolf! + +There were four or five days left for courtship before Hetta and Mr. +Beckard would return; four or five days during which Susan might be +happy, Aaron triumphant, and Mrs. Bell nervous. Days I have said, but +after all it was only the evenings that were so left. Every morning +Susan got up to give Aaron his breakfast, but Mrs. Bell got up also. +Susan boldly declared her right to do so, and Mrs. Bell found no +objection which she could urge. + +But after that Aaron was always absent till seven or eight in the +evening, when he would return to his tea. Then came the hour or two of +lovers’ intercourse. + +But they were very tame, those hours. The widow still felt an undefined +fear that she was wrong, and though her heart yearned to know that her +daughter was happy in the sweet happiness of accepted love, yet she +dreaded to be too confident. Not a word had been said about money +matters; not a word of Aaron Dunn’s relatives. So she did not leave them +by themselves, but waited with what patience she could for the return of +her wise counsellors. + +And then Susan hardly knew how to behave herself with her accepted +suitor. She felt that she was very happy; but perhaps she was most happy +when she was thinking about him through the long day, assisting in fixing +little things for his comfort, and waiting for his evening return. And +as he sat there in the parlour, she could be happy then too, if she were +but allowed to sit still and look at him,—not stare at him, but raise her +eyes every now and again to his face for the shortest possible glance, as +she had been used to do ever since he came there. + +But he, unconscionable lover, wanted to hear her speak, was desirous of +being talked to, and perhaps thought that he should by rights be allowed +to sit by her, and hold her hand. No such privileges were accorded to +him. If they had been alone together, walking side by side on the green +turf, as lovers should walk, she would soon have found the use of her +tongue,—have talked fast enough no doubt. Under such circumstances, when +a girl’s shyness has given way to real intimacy, there is in general no +end to her power of chatting. But though there was much love between +Aaron and Susan, there was as yet but little intimacy. And then, let a +mother be ever so motherly—and no mother could have more of a mother’s +tenderness than Mrs. Bell—still her presence must be a restraint. Aaron +was very fond of Mrs. Bell; but nevertheless he did sometimes wish that +some domestic duty would take her out of the parlour for a few happy +minutes. Susan went out very often, but Mrs. Bell seemed to be a +fixture. + +Once for a moment he did find his love alone, immediately as he came into +the house. “My own Susan, you do love me? do say so to me once.” And he +contrived to slip his arm round her waist. “Yes,” she whispered; but she +slipped like an eel from his hands, and left him only preparing himself +for a kiss. And then when she got to her room, half frightened, she +clasped her hands together, and bethought herself that she did really +love him with a strength and depth of love which filled her whole +existence. Why could she not have told him something of all this? + +And so the few days of his second sojourn at Saratoga passed away, not +altogether satisfactorily. It was settled that he should return to New +York on Saturday night, leaving Saratoga on that evening; and as the +Beckards—Hetta was already regarded quite as a Beckard—were to be back to +dinner on that day, Mrs. Bell would have an opportunity of telling her +wondrous tale. It might be well that Mr. Beckard should see Aaron before +his departure. + +On that Saturday the Beckards did arrive just in time for dinner. It may +be imagined that Susan’s appetite was not very keen, nor her manner very +collected. But all this passed by unobserved in the importance attached +to the various Beckard arrangements which came under discussion. Ladies +and gentlemen circumstanced as were Hetta and Mr. Beckard are perhaps a +little too apt to think that their own affairs are paramount. But after +dinner Susan vanished at once, and when Hetta prepared to follow her, +desirous of further talk about matrimonial arrangements, her mother +stopped her, and the disclosure was made. + +“Proposed to her!” said Hetta, who perhaps thought that one marriage in a +family was enough at a time. + +“Yes, my love—and he did it, I must say, in a very honourable way, +telling her not to make any answer till she had spoken to me;—now that +was very nice; was it not, Phineas?” Mrs. Bell had become very anxious +that Aaron should not be voted a wolf. + +“And what has been said to him since?” asked the discreet Phineas. + +“Why—nothing absolutely decisive.” Oh, Mrs. Bell! “You see I know +nothing as to his means.” + +“Nothing at all,” said Hetta. + +“He is a man that will always earn his bread,” said Mr. Beckard; and Mrs. +Bell blessed him in her heart for saying it. + +“But has he been encouraged?” asked Hetta. + +“Well; yes, he has,” said the widow. + +“Then Susan I suppose likes him?” asked Phineas. + +“Well; yes, she does,” said the widow. And the conference ended in a +resolution that Phineas Beckard should have a conversation with Aaron +Dunn, as to his worldly means and position; and that he, Phineas, should +decide whether Aaron might, or might not be at once accepted as a lover, +according to the tenor of that conversation. Poor Susan was not told +anything of all this. “Better not,” said Hetta the demure. “It will +only flurry her the more.” How would she have liked it, if without +consulting her, they had left it to Aaron to decide whether or no she +might marry Phineas? + +They knew where on the works Aaron was to be found, and thither Mr. +Beckard rode after dinner. We need not narrate at length the conference +between the young men. Aaron at once declared that he had nothing but +what he made as an engineer, and explained that he held no permanent +situation on the line. He was well paid at that present moment, but at +the end of summer he would have to look for employment. + +“Then you can hardly marry quite at present,” said the discreet minister. + +“Perhaps not quite immediately.” + +“And long engagements are never wise,” said the other. + +“Three or four months,” suggested Aaron. But Mr. Beckard shook his head. + +The afternoon at Mrs. Bell’s house was melancholy. The final decision of +the three judges was as follows. There was to be no engagement; of +course no correspondence. Aaron was to be told that it would be better +that he should get lodgings elsewhere when he returned; but that he would +be allowed to visit at Mrs. Bell’s house,—and at Mrs. Beckard’s, which +was very considerate. If he should succeed in getting a permanent +appointment, and if he and Susan still held the same mind, why then—&c. +&c. Such was Susan’s fate, as communicated to her by Mrs. Bell and +Hetta. She sat still and wept when she heard it; but she did not +complain. She had always felt that Hetta would be against her. + +“Mayn’t I see him, then?” she said through her tears. + +Hetta thought she had better not. Mrs. Bell thought she might. Phineas +decided that they might shake hands, but only in full conclave. There +was to be no lovers’ farewell. Aaron was to leave the house at half-past +five; but before he went Susan should be called down. Poor Susan! She +sat down and bemoaned herself; uncomplaining, but very sad. + +Susan was soft, feminine, and manageable. But Aaron Dunn was not very +soft, was especially masculine, and in some matters not easily +manageable. When Mr. Beckard in the widow’s presence—Hetta had retired +in obedience to her lover—informed him of the court’s decision, there +came over his face the look which he had worn when he burned the picture. +“Mrs. Bell,” he said, “had encouraged his engagement; and he did not +understand why other people should now come and disturb it.” + +“Not an engagement, Aaron,” said Mrs. Bell piteously. + +“He was able and willing to work,” he said, “and knew his profession. +What young man of his age had done better than he had?” and he glanced +round at them with perhaps more pride than was quite becoming. + +Then Mr. Beckard spoke out, very wisely no doubt, but perhaps a little +too much at length. Sons and daughters, as well as fathers and mothers, +will know very well what he said; so I need not repeat his words. I +cannot say that Aaron listened with much attention, but he understood +perfectly what the upshot of it was. Many a man understands the purport +of many a sermon without listening to one word in ten. Mr. Beckard meant +to be kind in his manner; indeed was so, only that Aaron could not accept +as kindness any interference on his part. + +“I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Bell,” said he. “I look upon myself as engaged +to her. And I look on her as engaged to me. I tell you so fairly; and I +believe that’s her mind as well as mine.” + +“But, Aaron, you won’t try to see her—or to write to her,—not in secret; +will you?” + +“When I try to see her, I’ll come and knock at this door; and if I write +to her, I’ll write to her full address by the post. I never did and +never will do anything in secret.” + +“I know you’re good and honest,” said the widow with her handkerchief to +her eyes. + +“Then why do you separate us?” asked he, almost roughly. “I suppose I +may see her at any rate before I go. My time’s nearly up now, I guess.” + +And then Susan was called for, and she and Hetta came down together. +Susan crept in behind her sister. Her eyes were red with weeping, and +her appearance was altogether disconsolate. She had had a lover for a +week, and now she was to be robbed of him. + +“Good-bye, Susan,” said Aaron, and he walked up to her without +bashfulness or embarrassment. Had they all been compliant and gracious +to him he would have been as bashful as his love; but now his temper was +hot. “Good-bye, Susan,” and she took his hand, and he held hers till he +had finished. “And remember this, I look upon you as my promised wife, +and I don’t fear that you’ll deceive me. At any rate I shan’t deceive +you.” + +“Good-bye, Aaron,” she sobbed. + +“Good-bye, and God bless you, my own darling!” And then without saying a +word to any one else, he turned his back upon them and went his way. + +There had been something very consolatory, very sweet, to the poor girl +in her lover’s last words. And yet they had almost made her tremble. He +had been so bold, and stern, and confident. He had seemed so utterly to +defy the impregnable discretion of Mr. Beckard, so to despise the demure +propriety of Hetta. But of this she felt sure, when she came to question +her heart, that she could never, never, never cease to love him better +than all the world beside. She would wait—patiently if she could find +patience—and then, if he deserted her, she would die. + +In another month Hetta became Mrs. Beckard. Susan brisked up a little +for the occasion, and looked very pretty as bridesmaid. She was +serviceable too in arranging household matters, hemming linen and sewing +table-cloths; though of course in these matters she did not do a tenth of +what Hetta did. + +Then the summer came, the Saratoga summer of July, August, and September, +during which the widow’s house was full; and Susan’s hands saved the pain +of her heart, for she was forced into occupation. Now that Hetta was +gone to her own duties, it was necessary that Susan’s part in the +household should be more prominent. + +Aaron did not come back to his work at Saratoga. Why he did not they +could not then learn. During the whole long summer they heard not a word +of him nor from him; and then when the cold winter months came and their +boarders had left them, Mrs. Beckard congratulated her sister in that she +had given no further encouragement to a lover who cared so little for +her. This was very hard to bear. But Susan did bear it. + +That winter was very sad. They learned nothing of Aaron Dunn till about +January; and then they heard that he was doing very well. He was engaged +on the Erie trunk line, was paid highly, and was much esteemed. And yet +he neither came nor sent! “He has an excellent situation,” their +informant told them. “And a permanent one?” asked the widow. “Oh, yes, +no doubt,” said the gentleman, “for I happen to know that they count +greatly on him.” And yet he sent no word of love. + +After that the winter became very sad indeed. Mrs. Bell thought it to be +her duty now to teach her daughter that in all probability she would see +Aaron Dunn no more. It was open to him to leave her without being +absolutely a wolf. He had been driven from the house when he was poor, +and they had no right to expect that he would return, now that he had +made some rise in the world. “Men do amuse themselves in that way,” the +widow tried to teach her. + +“He is not like that, mother,” she said again. + +“But they do not think so much of these things as we do,” urged the +mother. + +“Don’t they?” said Susan, oh, so sorrowfully; and so through the whole +long winter months she became paler and paler, and thinner and thinner. + +And then Hetta tried to console her with religion, and that perhaps did +not make things any better. Religious consolation is the best cure for +all griefs; but it must not be looked for specially with regard to any +individual sorrow. A religious man, should he become bankrupt through +the misfortunes of the world, will find true consolation in his religion +even for that sorrow. But a bankrupt, who has not thought much of such +things, will hardly find solace by taking up religion for that special +occasion. + +And Hetta perhaps was hardly prudent in her attempts. She thought that +it was wicked in Susan to grow thin and pale for love of Aaron Dunn, and +she hardly hid her thoughts. Susan was not sure but that it might be +wicked, but this doubt in no way tended to make her plump or rosy. So +that in those days she found no comfort in her sister. + +But her mother’s pity and soft love did ease her sufferings, though it +could not make them cease. Her mother did not tell her that she was +wicked, or bid her read long sermons, or force her to go oftener to the +meeting-house. + +“He will never come again, I think,” she said one day, as with a shawl +wrapped around her shoulders, she leant with her head upon her mother’s +bosom. + +“My own darling,” said the mother, pressing her child closely to her +side. + +“You think he never will, eh, mother?” What could Mrs. Bell say? In her +heart of hearts she did not think he ever would come again. + +“No, my child. I do not think he will.” And then the hot tears ran +down, and the sobs came thick and frequent. + +“My darling, my darling!” exclaimed the mother; and they wept together. + +“Was I wicked to love him at the first,” she asked that night. + +“No, my child; you were not wicked at all. At least I think not.” + +“Then why—” Why was he sent away? It was on her tongue to ask that +question; but she paused and spared her mother. This was as they were +going to bed. The next morning Susan did not get up. She was not ill, +she said; but weak and weary. Would her mother let her lie that day? +And then Mrs. Bell went down alone to her room, and sorrowed with all her +heart for the sorrow of her child. Why, oh why, had she driven away from +her door-sill the love of an honest man? + +On the next morning Susan again did not get up;—nor did she hear, or if +she heard she did not recognise, the step of the postman who brought a +letter to the door. Early, before the widow’s breakfast, the postman +came, and the letter which he brought was as follows:— + + “MY DEAR MRS. BELL, + + “I have now got a permanent situation on the Erie line, and the + salary is enough for myself and a wife. At least I think so, and I + hope you will too. I shall be down at Saratoga to-morrow evening, + and I hope neither Susan nor you will refuse to receive me. + + “Yours affectionately, + “AARON DUNN.” + +That was all. It was very short, and did not contain one word of love; +but it made the widow’s heart leap for joy. She was rather afraid that +Aaron was angry, he wrote so curtly and with such a brusque business-like +attention to mere facts; but surely he could have but one object in +coming there. And then he alluded specially to a wife. So the widow’s +heart leapt with joy. + +But how was she to tell Susan? She ran up stairs almost breathless with +haste, to the bedroom door; but then she stopped; too much joy she had +heard was as dangerous as too much sorrow; she must think it over for a +while, and so she crept back again. + +But after breakfast—that is, when she had sat for a while over her +teacup—she returned to the room, and this time she entered it. The +letter was in her hand, but held so as to be hidden;—in her left hand as +she sat down with her right arm towards the invalid. + +“Susan dear,” she said, and smiled at her child, “you’ll be able to get +up this morning? eh, dear?” + +“Yes, mother,” said Susan, thinking that her mother objected to this +idleness of her lying in bed. And so she began to bestir herself. + +“I don’t mean this very moment, love. Indeed, I want to sit with you for +a little while,” and she put her right arm affectionately round her +daughter’s waist. + +“Dearest mother,” said Susan. + +“Ah! there’s one dearer than me, I guess,” and Mrs. Bell smiled sweetly, +as she made the maternal charge against her daughter. + +Susan raised herself quickly in the bed, and looked straight into her +mother’s face. “Mother, mother,” she said, “what is it? You’ve +something to tell. Oh, mother!” And stretching herself over, she struck +her hand against the corner of Aaron’s letter. “Mother, you’ve a letter. +Is he coming, mother?” and with eager eyes and open lips, she sat up, +holding tight to her mother’s arm. + +“Yes, love. I have got a letter.” + +“Is he—is he coming?” + +How the mother answered, I can hardly tell; but she did answer, and they +were soon lying in each other’s arms, warm with each other’s tears. It +was almost hard to say which was the happier. + +Aaron was to be there that evening—that very evening. “Oh, mother, let +me get up,” said Susan. + +But Mrs. Bell said no, not yet; her darling was pale and thin, and she +almost wished that Aaron was not coming for another week. What if he +should come and look at her, and finding her beauty gone, vanish again +and seek a wife elsewhere! + +So Susan lay in bed, thinking of her happiness, dozing now and again, and +fearing as she waked that it was a dream, looking constantly at that +drawing of his, which she kept outside upon the bed, nursing her love and +thinking of it, and endeavouring, vainly endeavouring, to arrange what +she would say to him. + +“Mother,” she said, when Mrs. Bell once went up to her, “you won’t tell +Hetta and Phineas, will you? Not to-day, I mean?” Mrs. Bell agreed that +it would be better not to tell them. Perhaps she thought that she had +already depended too much on Hetta and Phineas in the matter. + +Susan’s finery in the way of dress had never been extensive, and now +lately, in these last sad winter days, she had thought but little of the +fashion of her clothes. But when she began to dress herself for the +evening, she did ask her mother with some anxiety what she had better +wear. “If he loves you he will hardly see what you have on,” said the +mother. But not the less was she careful to smooth her daughter’s hair, +and make the most that might be made of those faded roses. + +How Susan’s heart beat,—how both their hearts beat as the hands of the +clock came round to seven! And then, sharp at seven, came the knock; +that same short bold ringing knock which Susan had so soon learned to +know as belonging to Aaron Dunn. “Oh mother, I had better go up stairs,” +she cried, starting from her chair. + +“No dear; you would only be more nervous.” + +“I will, mother.” + +“No, no, dear; you have not time;” and then Aaron Dunn was in the room. + +She had thought much what she would say to him, but had not yet quite +made up her mind. It mattered however but very little. On whatever she +might have resolved, her resolution would have vanished to the wind. +Aaron Dunn came into the room, and in one second she found herself in the +centre of a whirlwind, and his arms were the storms that enveloped her on +every side. + +“My own, own darling girl,” he said over and over again, as he pressed +her to his heart, quite regardless of Mrs. Bell, who stood by, sobbing +with joy. “My own Susan.” + +“Aaron, dear Aaron,” she whispered. But she had already recognised the +fact that for the present meeting a passive part would become her well, +and save her a deal of trouble. She had her lover there quite safe, safe +beyond anything that Mr. or Mrs. Beckard might have to say to the +contrary. She was quite happy; only that there were symptoms now and +again that the whirlwind was about to engulf her yet once more. + +“Dear Aaron, I am so glad you are come,” said the innocent-minded widow, +as she went up stairs with him, to show him his room; and then he +embraced her also. “Dear, dear mother,” he said. + +On the next day there was, as a matter of course, a family conclave. +Hetta and Phineas came down, and discussed the whole subject of the +coming marriage with Mrs. Bell. Hetta at first was not quite +certain;—ought they not to inquire whether the situation was permanent? + +“I won’t inquire at all,” said Mrs. Bell, with an energy that startled +both the daughter and son-in-law. “I would not part them now; no, not +if—” and the widow shuddered as she thought of her daughter’s sunken +eyes, and pale cheeks. + +“He is a good lad,” said Phineas, “and I trust she will make him a sober +steady wife;” and so the matter was settled. + +During this time, Susan and Aaron were walking along the Balston road; +and they also had settled the matter—quite as satisfactorily. + +Such was the courtship of Susan Dunn. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COURTSHIP OF SUSAN BELL*** + + +******* This file should be named 3700-0.txt or 3700-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/0/3700 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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