She recalled the promise she had made to her mother in that very
room. Was the power to keep it to be wrested from her? Was she
to be driven from her home and parted from the only creature she
had on earth to love? And would Christopher allow it, after all
her sacrifices for him? Aye, that he would! He cared more for
that black-eyed, waxen-faced girl at the old Pye place than for
his own kin. Eunice put her hands over her dry, burning eyes and
groaned aloud.
Caroline Holland had her hour of triumph over Eunice when she
heard it all. To one of her nature there was no pleasure so
sweet as that of saying, "I told you so." Having said it,
however, she offered Eunice a home. Electa Holland was dead, and
Eunice might fill her place very acceptably, if she would.
"You can't go off and live by yourself," Caroline told her.
"It's all nonsense to talk of such a thing. We will give you a
home, if Christopher is going to turn you out. You were always a
fool, Eunice, to pet and pamper him as you've done. This is the
thanks you get for it--turned out like a dog for his fine wife's
whim! I only wish your mother was alive!"
It was probably the first time Caroline had ever wished this.
She had flown at Christopher like a fury about the matter, and
had been rudely insulted for her pains. Christopher had told her
to mind her own business.
When Caroline cooled down she made some arrangements with him, to
all of which Eunice listlessly assented.
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