When Eunice was twenty-eight, Edward Bell wanted to marry her.
He was a plain, middle-aged widower with four children; but, as
Caroline did not fail to remind her, Eunice herself was not for
every market, and the former did her best to make the match. She
might have succeeded had it not been for Christopher. When he,
in spite of Caroline's skillful management, got an inkling of
what was going on, he flew into a true Holland rage. If Eunice
married and left him--he would sell the farm and go to the Devil
by way of the Klondike. He could not, and would not, do without
her. No arrangement suggested by Caroline availed to pacify him,
and, in the end, Eunice refused to marry Edward Bell. She could
not leave Christopher, she said simply, and in this she stood
rock-firm. Caroline could not budge her an inch.
"You're a fool, Eunice," she said, when she was obliged to give
up in despair. "It's not likely you'll ever have another chance.
As for Chris, in a year or two he'll be marrying himself, and
where will you be then? You'll find your nose nicely out of
joint when he brings a wife in here."
The shaft went home. Eunice's lips turned white. But she said,
faintly, "The house is big enough for us both, if he does."
Caroline sniffed.
"Maybe so. You'll find out. However, there's no use talking.
You're as set as your mother was, and nothing would ever budge
her an inch.
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