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Lurida was full of suggestions, plans, projects, which were too liable to run into whims before she knew where they were tending. She would lay out her ideas before Euthymia so fluently and eloquently that she could not help believing them herself, and feeling as if her friend must accept them with an enthusiasm like her own.
Her friend Lurida might have been capable of the same sacrifice, but it would be after reasoning with herself as to the obligations which her sense of human rights and duties laid upon her, and fortifying her courage with the memory of noble deeds recorded of women in ancient and modern history. With Euthymia the primary human instincts took precedence of all reasoning or reflection about them.
The mortal antipathy had died out of the soul and the blood of Maurice Kirkwood at that supreme moment when he found himself snatched from the grasp of death and cradled in the arms of Euthymia. In closing the New Portfolio I remember that it began with a prefix which the reader may by this time have forgotten, namely, the First Opening.
The whole village was proud of Euthymia, and with these more quiet signs of grief were mingled loud lamentations, coming alike from old and young. All this was not so much like a succession of events as it was like a tableau. The lookers-on were stunned with its suddenness, and before they had time to recover their bewildered senses all was lost, or seemed lost.
Many of the good people of the village doubted whether Euthymia would ever be married. "There 's nothing good enough for her in this village," said the old landlord of what had been the Anchor Tavern. "She must wait till a prince comes along," the old landlady said in reply. "She'd make as pretty a queen as any of them that's born to it.
Every word they spoke betrayed the difference between them: the sharp tones of Lurida's head-voice, penetrative, aggressive, sometimes irritating, revealed the corresponding traits of mental and moral character; the quiet, conversational contralto of Euthymia was the index of a nature restful and sympathetic.
Many of the good people of the village doubted whether Euthymia would ever be married. "There 's nothing good enough for her in this village," said the old landlord of what had been the Anchor Tavern. "She must wait till a prince comes along," the old landlady said in reply. "She'd make as pretty a queen as any of them that's born to it.
For the doctor's horse and chaise to stop at the door of Miss Euthymia Tower's parental home was an event strange enough to set all the tongues in the village going. This was one of those families where illness was hardly looked for among the possibilities of life. There were other families where a call from the doctor was hardly more thought of than a call from the baker.
I want Euthymia to hear it, and I don't doubt there will be others who will be glad to hear everything you have to say about it. But oh, doctor, if you could only persuade Eutbymia to become a physician! What a doctor she would make! So strong, so calm, so full of wisdom!
Dear, dear, dearest Euthymia, my eyes are running over with tears when I think that we may never, never meet again. Don't you want some more items of village news?
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