to the future. When all was
arranged, I took my leave, promising and being promised frequent
letters.
The last time I was at Mrs. Greyfield's, I found there only herself and
her daughter Nellie.
"I have adopted her," she said, "with her father's consent. She is a
charming girl, and I could not bear to leave her motherless. Benton is
very much attached to his father. They are off on a mountaineering
expedition at present, but I hope they will come home before you go
away."
"Are you not going to tell me," I asked, "how you finally settled
matters between Mr. Greyfield and yourself."
"He is a very persistent suitor," she replied, smiling, "I can hardly
tell what to do with him."
"You do not want to break bark over his head?" I said, laughing.
"No; but I do almost wish that since he had stayed away so long he had
never come back. I had got used to my own quiet, old-maid ways. I was
done, or thought I was done, with passion and romance; and now to be
tossed about in this way, on the billows of doubt--to love and not to
love--to feel revengeful and forgiving--to think one way in the morning
and another way by noon, is very tiresome. I really do _not_ know what
to do with him."
I smiled, because I thought the admission was as good as Mr. Greyfield
need desire, for his prospects.
"I think I can understand," I said, "how difficult it must be to get
over all the gaps made by so many years of estrangement--of fancied
death, even. Had you been looking for him for such a length of time,
there would still be a great deal of awkwardness in the meeting, when
you came together again."
"Yes," said Mrs. Greyfield, "it is inevitable. The most artistic bit of
truth in the _Odyssey_ (you see I have read Homer since you called me
PENELOPE), is where the poet describes the difficulty the faithful wife
had in receiving the long-absent, and now changed, Ulysses as her true
husband."
"But she did receive him," I interrupted, "and so will you."
"The minister will have to bless the reception then. 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. Greyfield must have to talk over! It will take a
yea
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