Domestic fiction; Impostors and imposture -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New England -- Fiction; Wills -- Fiction
I think her conscience felt easier after she had given her real name,
which, however, made no impression either on myself or Lottie. Our minds
were made up as to the identity of the two young ladies. The tall blonde
was “the” Miss Burdick; the little dark-haired girl was Rena, a poor
relation, probably. But how she won upon me during the half hour before
supper was announced, and how beautiful I thought her large, lustrous
eyes with the heavy brows and long lashes, and how sweet her smile,
which brought the dimples to her cheeks, which were rather pale than
otherwise. In a short time I came to think her more attractive than her
cousin, with all her queenly beauty and her many little graces of
manner. At the supper-table Irene was very gracious, praising everything
and finally declaring herself more than delighted with her surroundings.
“Just the place for a quiet summer after the fatigue of Europe and the
gaieties of Paris,” she said, and then Mrs. Parks remarked:
“You have never lived much in the country, I suppose.”
There was a peculiar look in Rena’s eyes as they turned toward Irene,
who, under the fire of those eyes, replied:
“Oh, yes, I have. I was born in the country, and know all about it, but
cannot say I like it as well as the city. I shall like it here, though.
Have you many neighbors—visitors, I mean?”
“Quite a few,” Mrs. Parks replied. “There’s Mrs. Ephraim Walker—next
door—would run in any time and bring her work, if it weren’t for her
husband, who dislikes me because I object to his hens and to his having
his line fence two feet on my land. His boy, Sam, rode home with you
from the station. He comes here pretty often. And there’s Miss Staples
and Upham—nice folks, all of ’em. Then, there’s Mr. McPherson—different
from the rest of ’em, and the young man visiting him, Mr. Travers. Maybe
you know him?”
This was said to see what effect the mention of Mr. Travers would have
upon Irene, who replied: “I have not that pleasure,” while Rena’s face
was scarlet for a moment; then the bright color receded, leaving it pale
as before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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