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Updated: May 14, 2025
Greyfield to go on with the relation of her history. "I find I must be less particular," she said, "to give so many and frequent explanations of my feelings. By this time you can pretty well imagine them, and my story is likely to be too long, unless I abbreviate.
"Homer's Penelope, if we may believe the poet, was in much better circumstances to bear the ravages of her riotous boarders, than you were to feed yours gratuitously." "Talking about suitors," said Mrs. Greyfield, "I was not without those entirely, either. No young mismated woman can escape them perhaps.
Greyfield returned, with a touch of that asperity that was sometimes noticeable in her utterances. Then, more quietly: "Both are shocked alike at being accused; one because he is innocent; the other, because he is guilty. How much a person is shocked depends upon temperament and circumstance.
I also sent a letter to Mr. , in whose care I had left you, but nothing was ever heard from him. "When I had waited a reasonable length of time I wrote again to the postmaster of the same place, asking him if he knew of such a person as Mrs. Greyfield, in Oregon.
When I had read the letter, "My dear friend," I said, "what are you going to do? I hope, after all, this may be good news." "What can I do? What a strange situation!" "You will wish to see him, I suppose? 'Arthur Greyfield. You never told me his name was Arthur," I remarked, thinking to weaken the intensity of her feelings by referring to a trifling circumstance.
And to confess the whole truth to you, we are corresponding with my friend of long ago in Portland. He has promised to come down to perform the ceremony, and as his health is impaired, we have invited him to bring his family, at our expense, and to remain in our home while Mr. Greyfield and I, with Benton and Nellie, make a tour to and through Europe." "How much you and Mr.
What he said, was this: "'If I swear to you, by Almighty God, that you are my true and only wife, will you then believe me?" Mrs. Greyfield was becoming visibly agitated by these reminiscences, and paused to collect herself. "You dared not say 'yes," I cried, carried away with sympathy, "and yet, you could not say 'no. What did you do?" "I burst into a passion of tears, and cried convulsively.
Greyfield must have to talk over! It will take a year or two of close association to make you even tolerably well acquainted again." "No; the 'talking over' is tabooed, and that is why we are going to travel to have something else to talk about. You see I am so unforgiving that I cannot bear to hear Mr. Greyfield's story, and too magnanimous, notwithstanding, to inflict mine upon him.
And now that the young folks have taken such a fancy to each other, there is something that I wish to propose to you. It cannot be expected, after all that has passed, and with the lapse of so many years, we could meet as if nothing had come between us " "Who suffered all this to come between us?" cried Mrs. Greyfield, much agitated.
"One day he said to me, 'Mrs. Greyfield, this sitting and sewing all day is bad for your health.
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