fifteen minutes of her stay Amelia had slipped out of theroom with the blue and white bundle. Now she brought it out and laid itcarefully in the carriage.
"We are always so glad to see you, dearest Eudora," said she, "but youunderstand--"
"Yes," said Sophia, "you understand, Eudora dear, that there is not theslightest haste."
Eudora nodded, and her long neck seemed to grow longer.
When she was stepping regally down the path, Amelia said in a hastywhisper to Sophia: "Did you tell her?"
Sophia shook her head. "No, sister."
"I didn't know but you might have, while I was out of the room."
"I did not," said Sophia. She looked doubtfully at Amelia, then at Anna,and doubt flashed back and forth between the three pairs of blue eyesfor a second. Then Sophia spoke with authority, because she was theonly one of them all who had entered the estate of matrimony, and hadconsequently obvious cognizance of such matters.
"I think," said she, "that Eudora should be told that Harry Lawton hascome back and is boarding at the Wellwood Inn."
"You think," faltered Amelia, "that it is possible she might meet himunexpectedly?"
"I certainly do think so. And she might show her feelings in a way whichshe would ever afterward regret."
"You think, then, that she--"
Sophia gave her sister a look. Amelia fled after Eudora and thebaby-carriage. She overtook her at the gate. She laid her hand onEudora's arm, draped with India shawl.
"Eudora!" she gasped.
Eudora turned her serene face and regarded her questioningly.
"Eudora," said Amelia, "have you heard of anybody's coming to stay atthe inn lately?"
"No," replied Eudora, calmly. "Why, dear?"
"Nothing, only, Eudora, a dear and old friend of yours, of ours, isthere, so I hear."
Eudora did not inquire who the old friend might be. "Really?" sheremarked. Then she said, "Goodby, Amelia dear," and resumed her progresswith the baby-carriage.
PART II
"She never even asked who it was," Amelia reported to her sisters,when she had returned to the house. "Because she knew," replied Sophia,sagely; "there has never been any old friend but that one old friend tocome back into Eudora Yates's life."
"Has he come back into her life, I wonder?" said Amelia.
"What did he return to Wellwood for if he didn't come for that? Allhis relatives are gone. He never married. Yes, he has come back to seeEudora and marry her, if she will have him. No man who ever loved Eudorawould ever get over loving her. And he will not be shocked when he seesher. She is no more changed than a beautiful old statue."
"HE is changed, though," said Amelia. "I saw him the other day. Hedidn't see me, and I would hardly have known him. He has grown stout,and his hair is gray."
"Eudora's hair is gray," said Sophia.
"Yes, but you can see the gold through Eudora's gray. It just looks asif a shadow was thrown over it. It doesn't change her. Harry Lawton'sgray hair does change him."
"If," said Anna, sentimentally, "Eudora thinks Harry's hair turned grayfor love of her, you can trust her or any woman to see the gold throughit."
"Harry's hair was never gold--just an ordinary brown," said Amelia."Anyway, the Lawtons turned gray young."
"She won't think of that at all," said Sophia.
"I wonder why Eudora always avoided him so, years ago," said Amelia.
"Why doesn't a girl in a field of daisies stop to pick one, which shenever forgets?" said Sophia. "Eudora had so many chances, and I don'tthink her heart was fixed when she was very young; at least, I don'tthink it was fixed so she knew it."
"I wonder," said Amelia, "if he will go and call on her."
Amelia privately wished that she lived near enough to know if HarryLawton did call. She, as well as Mrs. Joseph Glynn, would have enjoyedwatching out and knowing something of the village happenings, but theLancaster house was situated so far from the road, behind its grove oftrees, that nothing whatever could be seen.
"I doubt if Eudora tells, if he does call--that is, not unless somethingdefinite happens," said Anna.
"No," remarked Amelia, sadly. "Eudora is a dear, but she is very silentwith regard to her own affairs."
"She ought to be," said Sophia, with her married authority. She was, toher sisters, as one who had passed within the shrine and was dignifiedlysilent with regard to its intimate mysteries.
"I suppose so," assented Anna, with a soft sigh. Amelia sighed also.Then she took the tea-tray out of the room. She had to make somebiscuits for supper.
Meantime Eudora was pacing homeward with the baby-carriage. Her sereneface was a little perturbed. Her oval cheeks were flushed, and her mouthnow and then trembled. She had, if she followed her usual course, topass the Wellwood Inn, but she could diverge, and by taking a sidestreet and walking a half-mile farther reach home without coming insight of the inn. She did so to-day.
When she reached the side street she turned rather swiftly and gave alittle sigh of relief. She was afraid that she might meet Harry Lawton.It was a lonely way. There was a brook on one side, bordered thicklywith bushy willows which were turning gold-green. On the other sidewere undulating pasture-lands on which grazed a few sheep. There wereno houses until she reached the turn which would lead back to the mainstreet, on which her home was located.
Eudora was about midway of this street when she saw a man approaching.He was a large man clad in gray, and he was swinging an umbrella.Somehow the swing of that umbrella, even from a distance, gave animpression of embarrassment and boyish hesitation. Eudora did not knowhim at first. She had expected to see the same Harry Lawton who had goneaway. She did not expect to see a stout, middle-aged man, but a slimyouth.
However, as they drew nearer each other, she knew; and curiously enoughit was that swing of the tightly furled umbrella which gave her theclue. She knew Harry because of that. It was a little boyish trick whichhad survived time. It was too late for her to draw back, for he had seenher, and Eudora was keenly alive to the indignity of abruptly turningand scuttling away with the tail of her black silk swishing, her Indiashawl trailing, and the baby-carriage bumping over the furrows. Shecontinued, and Harry Lawton continued, and they met.
Harry Lawton had known Eudora at once. She looked the same to him aswhen she had been a girl, and he looked the same to her when he spoke.
"Hullo, Eudora," said Harry Lawton, in a ludicrously boyish fashion. Hisface flushed, too, like a boy. He extended his hand like a boy. The man,seen near at hand, was a boy. In reality he himself had not changed. Afew layers of flesh and a change of color-cells do not make another man.He had always been a simple, sincere, friendly soul, beloved of men andwomen alike, and he was that now. Eudora held out her hand, and her eyesfell before the eyes of the man, in an absurd fashion for such a statelycreature as she. But the man himself acted like a great happy overgrownschool-boy.
"Hullo, Eudora," he said again.
"Hullo," said she, falteringly.
It was inconceivable that they should meet in such wise after the yearsof separation and longing which they had both undergone; but each tookrefuge, as it were, in a long-past youth, even childhood, from thefierce tension of age. When they were both children they had beenaccustomed to pass each other on the village street with exactly suchsalutation, and now both reverted to it. The tall, regal woman in herIndia shawl and the stout, middle-aged man had both stepped back totheir vantage-ground of springtime to meet.
However, after a moment, Eudora reasserted herself. "I only heard ashort time ago that you were here," she said, in her usual even voice.The fair oval of her face was as serene and proud toward the man as theface of the moon.
The man swung his umbrella, then began prodding the ground with it."Hullo, Eudora," he said again; then he added: "How are you, anyway?Fine and well?"
"I am very well, thank you," said Eudora. "So you have come home toWellwood after all this time?"
The man made an effort and recovered himself, although his han
dsome facewas burning.
"Yes," he remarked, with considerable ease and dignity, to which hehad a right, for Harry Lawton had not made a failure of his life, eventhough it had not included Eudora and a fulfilled dream.
"Yes," he continued, "I had some leisure; in fact, I have this springretired from business; and I thought I would have a look at the oldplace. Very little changed I am happy to find it."
"Yes, it is very little changed," assented Eudora; "at least, it seemsso to me, but it is not for a life-long dweller in any place to judge ofchange. It is for the one who