you will not like it here — too lonely, and you should
"But hasn't he had--a victory?" Victoria persisted earnestly. "Isn't this--victory enough?"
"What do you mean?" Euphrasia cried sharply.
"I mean," she answered, in a low voice, "I mean that Mr. Vane's son is responsible for his condition to-day. Oh--not consciously so. But the cause of this trouble is mental--can't you see it? The cause of this trouble is remorse. Can't you see that it has eaten into his soul? Do you wish a greater victory than this, or a sadder one? Hilary Vane will not ask for his son--because he cannot. He has no more power to send that message than a man shipwrecked on an island. He can only give signals of distress--that some may heed. Would She have waited for such a victory as you demand? And does Austen Vane desire it? Don't you think that he would come to his father if he knew? And have you any right to keep the news from him? Have you any right to decide what their vengeance shall be?"
Euphrasia had stood mute as she listened to these words which she had so little expected, but her eyes flashed and her breath came quickly. Never had she been so spoken to! Never had any living soul come between her and her cherished object the breaking of the heart of Hilary Vane! Nor, indeed, had that object ever been so plainly set forth as Victoria had set it forth. And this woman who dared to do this had herself brought unhappiness to Austen. Euphrasia had almost forgotten that, such had been the strange harmony of their communion.
"Have you the right to tell Austen?" she demanded.
"Have I?" Victoria repeated. And then, as the full meaning of the question came to her; the colour flooded into her face, and she would have fled, if she could, bud Euphrasia's words came in a torrent.
"You've made him unhappy, as well as Hilary. He loves you--but he wouldn't speak of it to you. Oh, no, he didn't tell me who it was, but I never rested till I found out. He never would have told me about it at all, or anybody else, but that I guessed it. I saw he was unhappy, and I calculated it wasn't Hilary alone made him so. One night he came in here, and I knew all at once--somehow--there was a woman to blame, and I asked him, and he couldn't lie to me. He said it wasn't anybody's fault but his own--he wouldn't say any more than that, except that he hadn't spoken to her. I always expected the time was coming when there would be--a woman. And I never thought the woman lived that he'd love who wouldn't love him. I can't see how any woman could help lovin' him.
"And then I found out it was that railroad. It came between Sarah Austen and her happiness, and now it's come between Austen and his. Perhaps you don't love him!" cried Euphrasia. "Perhaps you're too rich and high and mighty. Perhaps you're a-going to marry that fine young man who came with you in the buggy. Since I heard who you was, I haven't had a happy hour. Let me tell you there's no better blood in the land than the Austen blood. I won't mention the Vanes. If you've led him on, if you've deceived him, I hope you may be unhappy as Sarah Austen was--"
- fowls, sheep, goats, pigs, horses, and cattle; the order
- consigned in the first version and happily married to her
- it being perfected by various mortal trials, till at length
- twenty-eight years ago, is not a total to be despised.
- Was it, though, the ever beautiful blossoms of hollyhocks
- dinner. Could you succeed in literature? Certainly up to
- already interested. It was because I saw you really knew
- sailing in a few days for South Africa. I do not think
- For three weeks Hanson had remained. During this time he
- As regards “Dawn” itself, it was more or less of a
- for his opinion. This was done, and on April 27, 1883,
- failure — of course I mean at that time, for in after
- but he had not been as idle as he appeared to have been.
- an exhibition of the influence of character upon character.
- with a tale that would do you injustice. I don’t counsel
- pains; you must rewrite it with your right hand, throwing
- to tell him that she loved him. A dozen times she thought
- he has produced a work that will make your reader rub his
- gone before me, although, thank Heaven! a few still remain,
- pictured there, and he was a clever old man. He used to
- composed. When we reached Lemuy we had much difficulty
- she found and returned to me a few years ago, throws some
- all your force into it. If you produce it in its present
- At twenty-one a man is necessarily impatient; at twenty-six
- one of our party was unable anywhere to purchase either
- my great friends have always been men much older than myself,
- meant when he said that I could succeed in literature,
- a man has neither the excuse of youth nor the excuse of
- Max crossed the threshold hard upon her heels. Three descending
- and night, with the result that at length my eyesight gave
- the average length of a novel may be put at seventy-five
- must pander to the taste of the hour whether it be good
- and other comforts. At Caylen, the most southern island,
- legion. Also, from one cause, and another, little or nothing
- and amusing. This, however, I will not repeat. He was good
- In 1883 Osborn wrote me a letter concerning some imantophyllum12
- tables, and lifting Helen Cumberly, carried her half-way
- book for many years — is that it ought to have been cut
- lack dramatic interest, i.e. the interest that comes from
- bound in green, which I admire as I write. Certain of the
- a quiet old man, who, in his appearance and manner of life,
- consigned in the first version and happily married to her
- I will go at it, and hope to finish the book in from two
- both! Of course no one can tell what may happen in the
- solid wall opened before her; it was another masked door.
- I am going to dine with him on the 10th, when I shall try
- acquaintance. If you call on me when you are in town I
- “Dawn” or “Angela,” as it was then called, on May
- his fingers, right and left, and presently found slimy
- a higher price, which, as these works were written about