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The courtship of susan bell


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Title:TheCourtshipofSusanBell
Author:AnthonyTrollope
ReleaseDate:January,2003[Etext#3700][Yes,weareaboutoneyearaheadof
schedule][Theactualdatethisfilefirstposted=07/25/01]


Edition:10
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THECOURTSHIPOFSUSANBELL


byAnthonyTrollope

JohnMunroeBellhadbeenalawyerinAlbany,StateofNewYork,andassuch
hadthrivenwell.Hehadthrivenwellaslongasthriftandthrivingonthisearth
hadbeenallowedtohim.ButtheAlmightyhadseenfittoshortenhisspan.
Earlyinlifehehadmarriedatimid,anxious,pretty,goodlittlewife,whose
wholeheartandmindhadbeengivenuptodohisbiddinganddeservehislove.
Shehadnotonlydeserveditbuthadpossessedit,andaslongasJohnMunroe
Bellhadlived,HenriettaBell—Hettaashecalledher—hadbeenawomanrich
inblessings.Aftertwelveyearsofsuchblessingshehadlefther,andhadleft
withhertwodaughters,asecondHetta,andtheheroineofourlittlestory,Susan
Bell.
AlawyerinAlbanymaythrivepassingwellforeightortenyears,andyetnot
leavebehindhimanyverylargesumofmoneyifhediesattheendofthattime.
Somesmallmodicum,somefewthousanddollars,JohnBellhadamassed,so
thathiswidowanddaughterswerenotabsolutelydriventolookforworkor
bread.
Inthosehappydayswhencashhadbeguntoflowinplenteouslytotheyoung
fatherofthefamily,hehadtakenitintohisheadtobuildforhimself,orrather
forhisyoungfemalebrood,asmallneathouseintheoutskirtsofSaratoga
Springs.Indoingsohewasinstigatedasmuchbytheexcellenceofthe
investmentforhispocketasbythesalubrityoftheplaceforhisgirls.He
furnishedthehousewell,andthenduringsomesummerweekshiswifelived
there,andsometimesheletit.
Howthewidowgrievedwhenthelordofherheartandmasterofhermindwas
laidinthegrave,Ineednottell.Shehadalreadycountedtenyearsof
widowhood,andherchildrenhadgrowntobeyoungwomenbesideheratthe
timeofwhichIamnowabouttospeak.Sincethatsaddayonwhichtheyhad
leftAlbanytheyhadlivedtogetheratthecottageattheSprings.Inwintertheir
lifehadbeenlonelyenough;butassoonasthehotweatherbegantodrivethe
faintingcitizensoutfromNewYork,theyhadalwaysreceivedtwoorthree
boarders—oldladiesgenerally,andoccasionallyanoldgentleman—personsof
verysteadyhabits,withwhosepocketsthewidow’smoderatedemandsagreed


betterthanthehotelcharges.AndsotheBellslivedfortenyears.
ThatSaratogaisagayplaceinJuly,August,andSeptember,theworldknows
wellenough.Togirlswhogotherewithtrunksfullofmuslinandcrinoline,for
whomacarriageandpairofhorsesisalwayswaitingimmediatelyafterdinner,
whosefathers’pocketsareburstingwithdollars,itisaverygayplace.Dancing
andflirtationscomeasamatterofcourse,andmatrimonyfollowsafterwithonly
toogreatrapidity.ButtheplacewasnotverygayforHettaorSusanBell.
Inthefirstplacethewidowwasatimidwoman,andamongotherfearsfeared
greatlythatsheshouldbethoughtguiltyofsettingtrapsforhusbands.Poor
mothers!howoftenaretheychargedwiththissinwhentheirhonestdesiresgo
nofurtherthanthattheirbairnsmaybe“respectitlikethelave.”Andthenshe
fearedflirtations;flirtationsthatshouldbethatandnothingmore,flirtationsthat
aresodestructiveoftheheart’ssweetestessence.Shefearedlovealso,though
shelongedforthataswellasfearedit;—forhergirls,Imean;allsuchfeelings
forherselfwerelonglaidunderground;—andthen,likeatimidcreatureasshe
was,shehadotherindefinitefears,andamongthemagreatfearthatthosegirls
ofherswouldbelefthusbandless,—aphaseoflifewhichafterhertwelveyears
ofblisssheregardedasanythingbutdesirable.Buttheupshotwas,—theupshot
ofsomanyfearsandsuchsmallmeans,—thatHettaandSusanBellhadbuta
dulllifeofit.
WereitnotthatIamsomewhatcloselyrestrictedinthenumberofmypages,I
woulddescribeatfullthemeritsandbeautiesofHettaandSusanBell.AsitisI
canbutsayafewwords.AtourperiodoftheirlivesHettawasnearlyone-andtwenty,andSusanwasjustnineteen.Hettawasashort,plump,demureyoung
woman,withthesoftestsmoothedhair,andthebrownestbrightesteyes.Shewas
veryusefulinthehouse,goodatcorncakes,andthoughtmuch,particularlyin
theselattermonths,ofherreligiousduties.Hersisterintheprivacyoftheirown
littleroomwouldsometimestwitherwiththeadmiringpatiencewithwhichshe
wouldlistentothelengthenedeloquenceofMr.PhineasBeckard,theBaptist
minister.NowMr.PhineasBeckardwasabachelor.
Susanwasnotsogoodagirlinthekitchenoraboutthehouseaswashersister;
butshewasbrightintheparlour,andifthatmotherlyheartcouldhavebeen
madetogiveoutitsinmostsecret—whichhowever,itcouldnothavebeen
madetogiveoutinanywaypainfultodearHetta—perhapsitmighthavebeen
foundthatSusanwaslovedwiththeclosestlove.Shewastallerthanhersister,


andlighter;hereyeswereblueaswerehermother’s;herhairwasbrighterthan
Hetta’s,butnotalwayssosingularlyneat.Shehadadimpleonherchin,whereas
Hettahadnone;dimplesonhercheekstoo,whenshesmiled;and,oh,sucha
mouth!There;myallowanceofpagespermitsnomore.
Onepiercingcoldwinter’sdaytherecameknockingatthewidow’sdoor—a
youngman.Winterdays,whentheiceofJanuaryisrefrozenbythewindof
February,areverycoldatSaratogaSprings.Inthesedaystherewasnotoften
muchtodisturbtheserenityofMrs.Bell’shouse;butonthedayinquestion
therecameknockingatthedoor—ayoungman.
Mrs.Bellkeptanolddomestic,whohadlivedwiththeminthosehappyAlbany
days.HernamewasKateO’Brien,butthoughpicturesqueinnameshewas
hardlysoinperson.Shewasathick-set,noisy,good-naturedoldIrishwoman,
whohadjoinedherlottothatofMrs.Bellwhenthelatterfirstbegan
housekeeping,andknowingwhenshewaswelloff;hadremainedinthesame
placefromthatdayforth.ShehadknownHettaasababy,and,sotosay,had
seenSusan’sbirth.
“Andwhatmightyoubewanting,sir?”saidKateO’Brien,apparentlynotquite
pleasedassheopenedthedoorandletinallthecoldair.
“IwishtoseeMrs.Bell.IsnotthisMrs.Bell’shouse?”saidtheyoungman,
shakingthesnowfromoutofthebreastofhiscoat.
HedidseeMrs.Bell,andwewillnowtellwhohewas,andwhyhehadcome,
andhowitcametopassthathiscarpet-bagwasbroughtdowntothewidow’s
houseandoneofthefrontbedroomswaspreparedforhim,andthathedranktea
thatnightinthewidow’sparlour.
HisnamewasAaronDunn,andbyprofessionhewasanengineer.Whatpeculiar
misfortuneinthosedaysoffrostandsnowhadbefallenthelineofrailswhich
runsfromSchenectadytoLakeChamplain,Ineverquiteunderstood.Banksand
bridgeshadinsomewaycometogrief,andonAaronDunn’sshoulderswas
throwntheburdenofseeingthattheyweredulyrepaired.SaratogaSpringswas
thecentreofthesemishaps,andthereforeatSaratogaSpringsitwasnecessary
thatheshouldtakeuphistemporaryabode.
NowtherewasatthattimeinNewYorkcityaMr.Bell,greatinrailwaymatters
—anuncleoftheoncethrivingbutnowdepartedAlbanylawyer.Hewasarich


man,buthelikedhisricheshimself;oratanyratehadnotfoundhimselfcalled
upontosharethemwiththewidowanddaughtersofhisnephew.Butwhenit
chancedtocometopassthathehadahandindespatchingAaronDunnto
Saratoga,hetooktheyoungmanasideandrecommendedhimtolodgewiththe
widow.“There,”saidhe,“showhermycard.”Somuchtherichunclethoughthe
mightvouchsafetodoforthenephew’swidow.
Mrs.BellandbothherdaughterswereintheparlourwhenAaronDunnwas
shownin,snowandall.Hetoldhisstoryinarough,shakyvoice,forhisteeth
chattered;andhegavethecard,almostwishingthathehadgonetotheempty
bighotel,forthewidow’swelcomewasnotatfirstquitewarm.
Thewidowlistenedtohimashegavehismessage,andthenshetookthecard
andlookedatit.Hetta,whowassittingonthesideofthefireplacefacingthe
door,wentondemurelywithherwork.Susangaveoneglanceround—herback
wastothestranger—andthenanother;andthenshemovedherchairalittle
nearertothewall,soastogivetheyoungmanroomtocometothefire,ifhe
would.Hedidnotcome,buthiseyesglanceduponSusanBell;andhethought
thattheoldmaninNewYorkwasright,andthatthebighotelwouldbecoldand
dull.Itwasaprettyfacetolookonthatcoldeveningassheturneditupfromthe
stockingshewasmending.
“Perhapsyoudon’twishtotakewinterboarders,ma’am?”saidAaronDunn.
“Weneverhavedonesoyet,sir,”saidMrs.Belltimidly.Couldsheletthisyoung
wolfinamongherlamb-fold?Hemightbeawolf;—whocouldtell?
“Mr.Bellseemedtothinkitwouldsuit,”saidAaron.
Hadheacquiescedinhertimidityandnotpressedthepoint,itwouldhavebeen
allupwithhim.Butthewidowdidnotliketogoagainstthebiguncle;andso
shesaid,“Perhapsitmay,sir.”
“Iguessitwill,finely,”saidAaron.Andthenthewidowseeingthatthematter
wassofarsettled,putdownherworkandcameroundintothepassage.Hetta
followedher,fortherewouldbehouseworktodo.Aarongavehimselfanother
shake,settledtheweeklynumberofdollars—withverylittledifficultyonhis
part,forhehadcaughtanotherglanceatSusan’sface;andthenwentafterhis
bag.‘TwasthusthatAaronDunnobtainedanentranceintoMrs.Bell’shouse.
“Butwhatifhebeawolf?”shesaidtoherselfoverandoveragainthatnight,


thoughnotexactlyinthosewords.Ay,butthereisanothersidetothatquestion.
Whatifhebeastalwartman,honest-minded,withclevereye,cunninghand,
readybrain,broadback,andwarmheart;inwantofawifemayhap;amanthat
canearnhisownbreadandanother’s;—halfadozenothers’whenthehalfdozen
come?Wouldnotthatbeagoodsortoflodger?Suchaquestionasthattoodid
flit,justflit,acrossthewidow’ssleeplessmind.Butthenshethoughtsomuch
moreofthewolf!Wolves,shehadtaughtherselftothink,weremorecommon
thanstalwart,honest-minded,wife-desirousmen.
“Iwondermotherconsentedtotakehim,”saidHetta,whentheywereinthelittle
roomtogether.
“Andwhyshouldn’tshe?”saidSusan.“Itwillbeahelp.”
“Yes,itwillbealittlehelp,”saidHetta.“Butwehavedoneverywellhitherto
withoutwinterlodgers.”
“ButuncleBellsaidshewasto.”
“WhatisuncleBelltous?”saidHetta,whohadaspiritofherown.Andshe
begantosurmisewithinherselfwhetherAaronDunnwouldjointheBaptist
congregation,andwhetherPhineasBeckardwouldapproveofthisnewmove.
“Heisaverywell-behavedyoungmanatanyrate,”saidSusan,“andhedraws
beautifully.Didyouseethosethingshewasdoing?”
“Hedrawsverywell,Idaresay,”saidHetta,whoregardedthisasbutapoor
warrantyforgoodbehaviour.Hettaalsohadsomefearofwolves—notfor
herselfperhaps;butforhersister.
AaronDunn’swork—thecommencementofhiswork—layatsomedistance
fromtheSprings,andhelefteverymorningwithalotofworkmenbyanearly
train—almostbeforedaylight.Andeverymorning,coldandwintryasthe
morningswere,thewidowgothimhisbreakfastwithherownhands.Shetook
hisdollarsandwouldnotleavehimaltogethertotheawkwardmerciesofKate
O’Brien;norwouldshetrusthergirlstoattendupontheyoungman.Hettashe
mighthavetrusted;butthenSusanwouldhaveaskedwhyshewassparedher
shareofsuchhardship.
Intheevening,leavinghisworkwhenitwasdark,Aaronalwaysreturned,and


thentheeveningwaspassedtogether.Buttheywerepassedwiththemost
demurepropriety.Thesewomenwouldmakethetea,cutthebreadandbutter,
andthensew;whileAaronDunn,whenthecupswereremoved,wouldalways
gotohisplansanddrawings.
OnSundaystheyweremoretogether;butevenonthisdaytherewascauseof
separation,forAaronwenttotheEpiscopalianchurch,rathertothedisgustof
Hetta.Intheafternoon,however,theyweretogether;andthenPhineasBeckard
cameintoteaonSundays,andheandAarongottotalkingonreligion;and
thoughtheydisagreedprettymuch,andwouldnotgiveanincheitheroneorthe
other,neverthelesstheministertoldthewidow,andHettatooprobably,thatthe
ladhadgoodstuffinhim,thoughhewassostiff-necked.
“Butheshouldbemoremodestintalkingonsuchmatterswithaminister,”said
Hetta.
TheRev.Phineasacknowledgedthatperhapsheshould;buthewashonest
enoughtorepeatthattheladhadstuffinhim.“Perhapsafterallheisnotawolf,”
saidthewidowtoherself.
Thingswentoninthiswayforaboveamonth.Aaronhaddeclaredtohimself
overandoveragainthatthatfacewassweettolookupon,andhad
unconsciouslypromisedtohimselfcertaindelightsintalkingandperhaps
walkingwiththeownerofit.Butthewalkingshadnotbeenachieved—noreven
thetalkingsasyet.ThetruthwasthatDunnwasbashfulwithyoungwomen,
thoughhecouldbesostiff-neckedwiththeminister.
Andthenhefeltangrywithhimself,inasmuchashehadadvancednofurther;
andashelayinhisbed—whichperhapsthoseprettyhandshadhelpedtomake
—heresolvedthathewouldbeathoughtbolderinhisbearing.Hehadnoidea
ofmakinglovetoSusanBell;ofcoursenot.Butwhyshouldhenotamuse
himselfbytalkingtoaprettygirlwhenshesatsonearhim,eveningafter
evening?
“Whataveryquietyoungmanheis,”saidSusantohersister.
“Hehashisbreadtoearn,andstickstohiswork,”saidHetta.“Nodoubthehas
hisamusementwhenheisinthecity,”addedtheeldersister,notwishingto
leavetoostronganimpressionoftheyoungman’svirtue.


Theyhadallnowtheirsettledplacesintheparlour.Hettasatononesideofthe
fire,closetothetable,havingthatsidetoherself.Thereshesatalwaysbusy.She
musthavemadeeverydressandbitoflinenworninthehouse,andhemmed
everysheetandtowel,sobusywasshealways.Sometimes,onceinaweekor
so,PhineasBeckardwouldcomein,andthenplacewasmadeforhimbetween
Hetta’susualseatandthetable.Forwhentherehewouldreadoutloud.Onthe
otherside,closealsotothetable,satthewidow,busy,butnotsavagelybusyas
herelderdaughter.BetweenMrs.Bellandthewall,withherfeeteveronthe
fender,Susanusedtosit;notabsolutelyidle,butdoingworkofsomeslender
prettysort,andtalkingeverandanontohermother.Oppositetothemall,atthe
othersideofthetable,farawayfromthefire,wouldAaronDunnplacehimself
withhisplansanddrawingsbeforehim.
“Areyouajudgeofbridges,ma’am?”saidAaron,theeveningafterhehadmade
hisresolution.‘Twasthushebeganhiscourtship.
“Ofbridges?”saidMrs.Bell—“ohdearno,sir.”Butsheputoutherhandtotake
thelittledrawingwhichAaronhandedtoher.
“Becausethat’soneI’veplannedforourbitofanewbranchfromMoreauupto
LakeGeorge.IguessMissSusanknowssomethingaboutbridges.”
“IguessIdon’t,”saidSusan—“onlythattheyoughtn’ttotumbledownwhenthe
frostcomes.”
“Ha,ha,ha;nomoretheyought.I’lltellMcEvoythat.”McEvoyhadbeena
formerengineerontheline.“Well,thatwon’tburstwithanyfrost,Iguess.”
“Ohmy!howpretty!”saidthewidow,andthenSusanofcoursejumpedupto
lookoverhermother’sshoulder.
Theartfuldodger!hehaddrawnandcolouredabeautifullittlesketchofa
bridge;notanengineer’splanwithsectionsandmeasurements,vexatioustoa
woman’seye,butagracefullittlebridgewithastringofcarsrunningunderit.
Youcouldalmosthearthebellgoing.
“Well;thatisaprettybridge,”saidSusan.“Isn’tit,Hetta?”
“Idon’tknowanythingaboutbridges,”saidHetta,towhoseclevereyesthe
dodgewasquiteapparent.ButinspiteofherclevernessMrs.BellandSusanhad


soonmovedtheirchairsroundtothetable,andwerelookingthroughthe
contentsofAaron’sportfolio.“Butyethemaybeawolf,”thoughtthepoor
widow,justasshewaskneelingdowntosayherprayers.
Thateveningcertainlymadeacommencement.ThoughHettawenton
pertinaciouslywiththebodyofanewdress,theothertwoladiesdidnotputin
anotherstitchthatnight.FromhisdrawingsAarongottohisinstruments,and
beforebedtimewasteachingSusanhowtodrawparallellines.Susanfoundthat
shehadquiteanaptitudeforparallellines,andaltogetherhadagoodtimeofit
thatevening.Itisdulltogoonweekafterweek,andmonthaftermonth,talking
onlytoone’smotherandsister.Itisdullthoughonedoesnotoneselfrecogniseit
tobeso.Alittlechangeinsuchmattersissoverypleasant.Susanhadnotthe
slightestideaofregardingAaronasevenapossiblelover.Butyoungladiesdo
liketheconversationofyounggentlemen.Oh,myexceedinglyproperprimold
lady,youwhoaresoshockedatthisasageneraldoctrine,hasitneveroccurred
toyouthattheCreatorhassointendedit?
Susanunderstandinglittleofthehowandwhy,knewthatshehadhadagood
time,andwasratherinspiritsasshewenttobed.ButHettahadbeenfrightened
bythedodge.
“Oh,Hetta,youshouldhavelookedatthosedrawings.Heissoclever!”said
Susan.
“Idon’tknowthattheywouldhavedonememuchgood,”repliedHetta.
“Good!Well,they’ddomemoregoodthanalongsermon,Iknow,”saidSusan;
“exceptonaSunday,ofcourse,”sheaddedapologetically.ThiswasanilltemperedattackbothonHettaandHetta’sadmirer.ButthenwhyhadHettabeen
sosnappish?
“I’msurehe’sawolf;”thoughtHettaasshewenttobed.
“Whataverycleveryoungmanheis!”thoughtSusantoherselfasshepulledthe
warmclothesroundabouthershouldersandears.
“Wellthatcertainlywasanimprovement,”thoughtAaronashewentthroughthe
sameoperation,withastrongerfeelingofself-approbationthanhehadenjoyed
forsometimepast.


Inthecourseofthenextfortnightthefamilyarrangementsallaltered
themselves.UnlesswhenBeckardwasthereAaronwouldsitinthewidow’s
place,thewidowwouldtakeSusan’schair,andthetwogirlswouldbeopposite.
AndthenDunnwouldreadtothem;notsermons,butpassagesfromShakspeare,
andByron,andLongfellow.“HereadsmuchbetterthanMr.Beckard,”Susan
hadsaidonenight.“Ofcourseyou’reacompetentjudge!”hadbeenHetta’s
retort.“ImeanthatIlikeitbetter,”saidSusan.“It’swellthatallpeopledon’t
thinkalike,”repliedHetta.
Andthentherewasadealoftalking.Thewidowherself,asunconsciousinthis
respectasheryoungestdaughter,certainlydidfindthatalittlevarietywas
agreeableonthoselongwinternights;andtalkedherselfwithunaccustomed
freedom.AndBeckardcamethereoftenerandtalkedverymuch.Whenhewas
therethetwoyoungmendidallthetalking,andtheypoundedeachother
immensely.Butstilltheregrewupasortoffriendshipbetweenthem.
“Mr.Beckardseemsquitetotaketohim,”saidMrs.Belltohereldestdaughter.
“Itishisgreatgoodnature,mother,”repliedHetta.
ItwasattheendofthesecondmonthwhenAarontookanotherstepinadvance
—aperilousstep.Sometimesoneveningshestillwentonwithhisdrawingfor
anhourorso;butduringthreeorfoureveningsheneveraskedanyonetolook
atwhathewasdoing.OnoneFridayhesatoverhisworktilllate,withoutany
readingortalkingatall;solatethatatlastMrs.Bellsaid,“Ifyou’regoingtosit
muchlonger,Mr.Dunn,I’llgetyoutoputoutthecandles.”Therebyshowing,
hadheknownitorhadshe,thatthemother’sconfidenceintheyoungmanwas
growingfast.Hettaknewallaboutit,anddreadedthatthegrowthwastooquick.
“I’vefinishednow,”saidAaron;andhelookedcarefullyatthecardboardon
whichhehadbeenwashinginhiswater-colours.“I’vefinishednow.”Hethen
hesitatedamoment;butultimatelyheputthecardintohisportfolioandcarried
ituptohisbedroom.Whodoesnotperceivethatitwasintendedasapresentto
SusanBell?
ThequestionwhichAaronaskedhimselfthatnight,andwhichhehardlyknew
howtoanswer,wasthis.ShouldheofferthedrawingtoSusaninthepresenceof
hermotherandsister,oronsomeoccasionwhentheytwomightbealone
together?Nosuchoccasionhadeveryetoccurred,butAaronthoughtthatit


mightprobablybebroughtabout.Butthenhewantedtomakenofussaboutit.
Hisfirstintentionhadbeentochuckthedrawinglightlyacrossthetablewhenit
wascompleted,andsomakenothingofit.Buthehadfinisheditwithmorecare
thanhehadatfirstintended;andthenhehadhesitatedwhenhehadfinishedit.It
wastoolatenowforthatplanofchuckingitoverthetable.
OntheSaturdayeveningwhenhecamedownfromhisroom,Mr.Beckardwas
there,andtherewasnoopportunitythatnight.OntheSunday,inconformity
withapreviousengagement,hewenttohearMr.Beckardpreach,andwalkedto
andfrommeetingwiththefamily.ThispleasedMrs.Bell,andtheywereallvery
graciousthatafternoon.ButSundaywasnodayforthepicture.
OnMondaythethinghadbecomeofimportancetohim.Thingsalwaysdowhen
theyarekeptover.BeforeteathateveningwhenhecamedownMrs.Belland
Susanonlywereintheroom.HeknewHettaforhisfoe,andtherefore
determinedtousethisoccasion.
“MissSusan,”hesaid,stammeringsomewhat,andblushingtoo,poorfool!“I
havedonealittledrawingwhichIwantyoutoaccept,”andheputhisportfolio
downonthetable.
“Oh!Idon’tknow,”saidSusan,whohadseentheblush.
Mrs.Bellhadseentheblushalso,andpursedhermouthup,andlookedgrave.
Hadtherebeennostammeringandnoblush,shemighthavethoughtnothingof
it.
Aaronsawatoncethathislittlegiftwasnottogodownsmoothly.Hewas,
however,inforitnow,sohepickeditoutfromamongtheotherpapersinthe
caseandbroughtitovertoSusan.Heendeavouredtohandittoherwithanairof
indifference,butIcannotsaythathesucceeded.
Itwasaverypretty,well-finished,water-coloureddrawing,representingstillthe
samebridge,butwithmoreadjuncts.InSusan’seyesitwasaworkofhighart.
Ofpicturesprobablyshehadseenbutlittle,andherlikingfortheartistnodoubt
addedtoheradmiration.Butthemoresheadmireditandwishedforit,the
strongerwasherfeelingthatsheoughtnottotakeit.
PoorSusan!shestoodforaminutelookingatthedrawing,butshesaidnothing;
notevenawordofpraise.Shefeltthatshewasredintheface,anduncourteous


totheirlodger;buthermotherwaslookingatherandshedidnotknowhowto
behaveherself.
Mrs.Bellputoutherhandforthesketch,tryingtobethinkherselfasshedidso
inwhatleastuncivilwayshecouldrefusethepresent.Shetookamomentto
lookatitcollectingherthoughts,andasshedidsoherwoman’switcametoher
aid.
“Ohdear,Mr.Dunn,itisverypretty;quiteabeautifulpicture.IcannotletSusan
robyouofthat.Youmustkeepthatforsomeofyourownparticularfriends.”
“ButIdiditforher,”saidAaroninnocently.
Susanlookeddownattheground,halfpleasedatthedeclaration.Thedrawing
wouldlookveryprettyinasmallgiltframeputoverherdressing-table.Butthe
matternowwasaltogetherinhermother’shands.
“Iamafraiditistoovaluable,sir,forSusantoaccept.”
“Itisnotvaluableatall,”saidAaron,decliningtotakeitbackfromthewidow’s
hand.
“Oh,Iamquitesureitis.Itisworthtendollarsatleast—ortwenty,”saidpoor
Mrs.Bell,notintheverybesttaste.Butshewasperplexed,anddidnotknow
howtogetoutofthescrape.Thearticleinquestionnowlayuponthetablecloth,appropriatedbynoone,andatthismomentHettacameintotheroom.
“Itisnotworthtencents,”saidAaron,withsomethinglikeafrownonhisbrow.
“Butaswehadbeentalkingaboutthebridge,IthoughtMissSusanwould
acceptit.”
“Acceptwhat?”saidHetta.Andthenhereyefelluponthedrawingandshetook
itup.
“Itisbeautifullydone,”saidMrs.Bell,wishingmuchtosoftenthematter;
perhapsthemoresothatHettathedemurewasnowpresent.“IamtellingMr.
Dunnthatwecan’ttakeapresentofanythingsovaluable.”
“Ohdearno,”saidHetta.“Itwouldn’tberight.”


ItwasacoldfrostyeveninginMarch,andthefirewasburningbrightlyonthe
hearth.AaronDunntookupthedrawingquietly—veryquietly—androllingit
up,assuchdrawingsarerolled,putitbetweentheblazinglogs.Itwasthework
offourevenings,andhischef-d’oeuvreinthewayofart.
Susan,whenshesawwhathehaddone,burstoutintotears.Thewidowcould
veryreadilyhavedonesoalso,butshewasabletorefrainherself,andmerely
exclaimed—“Oh,Mr.Dunn!”
“IfMr.Dunnchoosestoburnhisownpicture,hehascertainlyarighttodoso,”
saidHetta.
Aaronimmediatelyfeltashamedofwhathehaddone;andhealsocouldhave
cried,butforhismanliness.Hewalkedawaytooneoftheparlour-windows,and
lookedoutuponthefrostynight.Itwasdark,butthestarswerebright,andhe
thoughtthatheshouldliketobewalkingfastbyhimselfalongthelineofrails
towardsBalston.Therehestood,perhapsforthreeminutes.Hethoughtitwould
bepropertogiveSusantimetorecoverfromhertears.
“Willyoupleasetocometoyourtea,sir?”saidthesoftvoiceofMrs.Bell.
Heturnedroundtodoso,andfoundthatSusanwasgone.Itwasnotquiteinher
powertorecoverfromhertearsinthreeminutes.Andthenthedrawinghadbeen
sobeautiful!Ithadbeendoneexpresslyforhertoo!Andtherehadbeen
something,sheknewnotwhat,inhiseyeashehadsodeclared.Shehadwatched
himintentlyoverthosefourevenings’work,wonderingwhyhedidnotshowit,
tillherfemininecuriosityhadbecomeratherstrong.Itwassomethingvery
particular,shewassure,andshehadlearnedthatallthatpreciousworkhadbeen
forher.Nowallthatpreciousworkwasdestroyed.Howwasitpossiblethatshe
shouldnotcryformorethanthreeminutes?
Theotherstooktheirmealinperfectsilence,andwhenitwasoverthetwo
womensatdowntotheirwork.Aaronhadabookwhichhepretendedtoread,
butinsteadofreadinghewasbethinkinghimselfthathehadbehavedbadly.
Whatrighthadhetothrowthemallintosuchconfusionbyindulginginhis
passion?Hewasashamedofwhathehaddone,andfanciedthatSusanwould
hatehim.Fancyingthat,hebegantofindatthesametimethathebynomeans
hatedher.
AtlastHettagotupandlefttheroom.Sheknewthathersisterwassittingalone


inthecold,andHettawasaffectionate.Susanhadnotbeeninfault,andtherefore
Hettawentuptoconsoleher.
“Mrs.Bell,”saidAaron,assoonasthedoorwasclosed,“Ibegyourpardonfor
whatIdidjustnow.”
“Oh,sir,I’msosorrythatthepictureisburnt,”saidpoorMrs.Bell.
“Thepicturedoesnotmatterastraw,”saidAaron.“ButIseethatIhave
disturbedyouall,—andIamafraidIhavemadeMissSusanunhappy.”
“Shewasgrievedbecauseyourpicturewasburnt,”saidMrs.Bell,puttingsome
emphasisonthe“your,”intendingtoshowthatherdaughterhadnotregardedthe
drawingasherown.Buttheemphasisboreanothermeaning;andsothewidow
perceivedassoonasshehadspoken.
“Oh,Icandotwentymoreofthesameifanybodywantedthem,”saidAaron.“If
Idoanotherlikeit,willyoulethertakeit,Mrs.Bell?—justtoshowthatyou
haveforgivenme,andthatwearefriendsaswewerebefore?”
Washe,orwashenotawolf?ThatwasthequestionwhichMrs.Bellscarcely
knewhowtoanswer.Hettahadgivenhervoice,sayinghewaslupine.Mr.
Beckard’sopinionshehadnotlikedtoaskdirectly.Mr.Beckardshethought
wouldprobablyproposetoHetta;butasyethehadnotdoneso.And,ashewas
stillastrangerinthefamily,shedidnotlikeinanywaytocompromiseSusan’s
name.Indirectlyshehadaskedthequestion,and,indirectlyalso,Mr.Beckard’s
answerhadbeenfavourable.
“Butitmustn’tmeananything,sir,”wasthewidow’sweakanswer,whenshe
hadpausedonthequestionforamoment.
“Ohno,ofcoursenot,”saidAaron,joyously,andhisfacebecameradiantand
happy.“AndIdobegyourpardonforburningit;andtheyoungladies’pardon
too.”Andthenherapidlygotouthiscardboard,andsethimselftoworkabout
anotherbridge.Thewidow,meditatingmanythingsinherheart,commencedthe
hemmingofahandkerchief.
Inaboutanhourthetwogirlscamebacktotheroomandsilentlytooktheir
accustomedplaces.Aaronhardlylookedup,butwentondiligentlywithhis
drawing.Thisbridgeshouldbeabetterbridgethanthatother.Itsacceptancewas


nowassured.Ofcourseitwastomeannothing.Thatwasamatterofcourse.So
heworkedawaydiligently,andsaidnothingtoanybody.
Whentheywentofftobedthetwogirlswentintothemother’sroom.“Oh,
mother,Ihopeheisnotveryangry,”saidSusan.
“Angry!”saidHetta,“ifanybodyshouldbeangry,itismother.Heoughttohave
knownthatSusancouldnotacceptit.Heshouldneverhaveofferedit.”
“Buthe’sdoinganother,”saidMrs.Bell.
“Notforher,”saidHetta.
“Yesheis,”saidMrs.Bell,“andIhavepromisedthatsheshalltakeit.”Susanas
sheheardthissankgentlyintothechairbehindher,andhereyesbecamefullof
tears.Theintimationwasalmosttoomuchforher.
“Oh,mother!”saidHetta.
“ButIparticularlysaidthatitwastomeannothing.”
“Oh,mother,thatmakesitworse.”
WhyshouldHettainterfereinthisway,thoughtSusantoherself.Hadshe
interferedwhenMr.BeckardgaveHettaatestamentboundinMorocco?hadnot
shesmiled,andlookedgratified,andkissedhersister,anddeclaredthatPhineas
Beckardwasanicedearman,andbyfarthemostelegantpreacheratthe
Springs?WhyshouldHettabesocruel?
“Idon’tseethat,mydear,”saidthemother.Hettawouldnotexplainbeforeher
sister,sotheyallwenttobed.
OntheThursdayeveningthedrawingwasfinished.Notawordhadbeensaid
aboutit,atanyrateinhispresence,andhehadgoneonworkinginsilence.
“There,”saidhe,lateontheThursdayevening,“Idon’tknowthatitwillbeany
betterifIgoondaubingforanotherhour.There,MissSusan;there’sanother
bridge.Ihopethatwillneitherburstwiththefrost,noryetbedestroyedbyfire,”
andhegaveitalightflipwithhisfingersandsentitskimmingoverthetable.
Susanblushedandsmiled,andtookitup.“Oh,itisbeautiful,”shesaid.“Isn’tit


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