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Updated: June 28, 2025
Even an inferior woman could not associate with a superior man that long without some of his gentility passing to her, thought he. Colonel Price inclined his head gravely. "Madam, Peter Newbolt's son never would commit a crime, much less the crime of murder," he said, yet with more sincerity in his words, perhaps, than lay in his heart.
But this daring thought faded very soon, for there didn't seem to be any dinner parties ahead. Mrs. Newbolt's supper table was, as Maurice said, sarcastically, the extent of the "Curtises' social whirl" a fact which did not trouble him in the least! He had his own social whirl.
"I tried; I tried," she said; "but I can't!" It was after ten o'clock that night when Eleanor's icy fingers fumbled at Mrs. Newbolt's doorbell. The ring was not heard at first, because her aunt and Edith Houghton and Johnny Bennett were celebrating his departure the next day for South America, by making a Welsh rabbit in a chafing dish before the parlor fire. Mrs.
The judge spoke again. "You left the court-room today before I had a chance to speak to you, Mrs. Chase. I wanted to tell you how much I admired your courage in coming forward with the statement that cleared away the doubt and tangles from Joe Newbolt's case. You deserve a great deal of credit, which I am certain the public will not withhold. You are a brave little woman, Ollie Chase."
She must have endured the tortures of hidden fires through those weeks of uncertainty and suspense, thought he. Yes, Ollie Chase had her own nobility; the laurel was due her poor, smirched brow, just as much as it was to Joe Newbolt's lofty forehead. Contrition doubtless played its part in driving her to open confession, and the pain of concealment must have been hard to bear.
The sensation was like that of the reader who becomes absorbed in Henry Newbolt's romance of The Old Country, who identifies himself with the hero and unconsciously, or without quite knowing how, slips back out of this modern world into that of half a thousand years ago.
I do love Edith.... How did she get on to it? She is so good to me about Jacky and I love Edith!" He went on packing his grip. "I wonder if any man ever paid as I am paying? I'll call her up at Mrs. Newbolt's, before I go, and say good-by." No doubt he would have done so, but when he went downstairs he found Johnny Bennett, smoking comfortably before that very cheerful little fire.
According to the agreement between them, he had taken under bond-service the Widow Newbolt's "minor male child," but it looked to him as if some mistake had been made in the delivery. "He's a man!" exulted Isom in his heart, pleased beyond measure that he had bargained better than he had known.
Newbolt's candid guidance and Maurice's worried reminders that he couldn't "afford" more than so much rent! gave Eleanor the pleasantest summer she had had since that first summer when, in the meadow, she and Maurice had watched the clouds, and the locust blossoms, and told each other that nothing in heaven or earth, or the waters under the earth, could part them...
The little deputy had given over his struggle, and now stood with one hand twisted in the back of Joe's coat. The sheriff kept his hold on Mrs. Newbolt's arm. She lifted her contrite face to the judge, tears in her eyes. "Very well," said the judge, "the court will accept your apology, and hold you responsible for her future behavior.
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