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Updated: May 6, 2025
It was not a face, so much as a living soul, that turned itself toward Miss Euphrasia's brother, as Miss Kirkbright spoke his name and Desire's. For some reason, he found himself walking into the church beside them afterward, thinking oddly of the etymology of that word, "introduced." "Brought within; behind the barriers; made really known. Effie gave me a glimpse of that girl, her self.
To know that he missed Austen, to feel that Hilary was being justly punished for his treatment of her idol, for his callous neglect and lack of realization of the blessings of his life these were Euphrasia's grim compensations.
That's the first time I ever met her, although I had often seen her and thought she was a stunner to look at. She talked as if she took an interest in Austen." An exact portrayal of Euphrasia's feelings at this description of the object of Austen's affections is almost impossible.
But Austen saw now, in a flash, the years of Euphrasia's self-denial, the years of memories, the years of regrets for that which might have been. "Phrasie," he said, laying a hand on hers, which rested on the arm of the chair, I was only joking, you know." "I know, I know," Euphrasia answered hastily, and turned and looked into his face searchingly.
He's prayed enough in his life, goodness knows!" Now Euphrasia's ordinarily sharp eyes were sharpened an hundred fold by affection; and of late, at odd moments during his visits, Austen had surprised them fixed on him with a penetration that troubled him. "You don't seem to fancy the tarts as much as you used to," she would remark. "Time was when you'd eat three and four at a sittin'."
The audience in Twelfth Night is taken into confidence and made aware of Viola's real nature from the start, while Euphrasia's incognito is preserved till the fifth act, and then disclosed by an accident. This kind of mystification and surprise was a trick below Shakspere. In this instance, moreover, it involved a departure from dramatic probability.
But Austen saw now, in a flash, the years of Euphrasia's self-denial, the years of memories, the years of regrets for that which might have been. "Phrasie," he said, laying a hand on hers, which rested on the arm of the chair, "I was only joking, you know." "I know, I know," Euphrasia answered hastily, and turned and looked into his face searchingly.
Was this strange, bronzed, quietly humorous young man his son? Hilary even had to raise his eyes a little; he had forgotten how tall Austen was. Strange emotions, unbidden and unwelcome, ran riot in his breast; and Hilary Vane, who made no slips before legislative committees or supreme courts, actually found himself saying: "Euphrasia's got your room ready."
"Was yours easily mended?" he asked. Euphrasia was silent a moment. "He never knew," she repeated, in a low voice. "Well, Phrasie, it looks very much as if we were in the same boat," he said. Euphrasia's heart gave a bound. "Then you haven't spoke!" she cried; "I knew you hadn't. I I was a woman but sometimes I've thought I'd ought to have given him some sign.
Miss Euphrasia's first feeling was disappointment. It seemed as if her morning were going a wee wrong after all. But her second thought that it was surely all in the day's work, and had happened so by no mistake took her in, with a cheery and really expectant face, to Rachel Froke's gray parlor, to "sit her down a five minutes, and rest."
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