The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1881-09-26
7 lie PRESS.
Phema's Way.
BY ROSE TERRY COOK.
nv silly. Enphemia.O

ssYou are very silly, Euphemia."
81 dare say you don't think me very wise.
mamma; but person can't be convicted OF s
extreme Stiffness on one count"
s'Let the matter drop, my dear, II you
nlea,e We won't argue it. You have con
sented to wait until September before final
decision, and tie thing is too disagreeableE
for discussion" Mrs. Bayard drew herS
soft shawl gracefully about her and left the /
room.
If everybody was "born to the purple" in I
this republican country, Euphemia Bayaru
had been. Her father belonged to one OF lts
oldest families and her mother counIeu
Dutch ancestors back to the time when thai
stoid nation ''took Holland" The Vande
veers had been rich before Mrs. Bayard'
time She was the seventh daughter OF a
ninth son. and the family wealth would not
bear such infinitesimal division as this, for
all the nine sons had their own families, +
and 4 million will fade fast under division
and subdivision. she married Mr.. BayardI
because he had position and money, and
why he had married her nobody knew. Per
haps he did not. She was sallow, skinny, Z
green-eyed, dull-haired and cold-blooded asH
fish; graceful and stylish, it is true, but, toI
trayesty an old quotation. Look in her
face, and you forget ALL" Mr.. Bayard wasI
a handsome, genial prosperous young tel-
low when they were married, and Eupfe 1
mia, their only child, was tended and edit
Gated like princess. Velvet and valenci- +
ennes, swansdown and linen cambria wereI
scarcely good enough to lap her tiny lovelyb
shape, and two nurses combined with bel
mother to spoil her utterly; but she inherit
ed from herfather keen sense, quick percep
ton, humor and generosity and deep feeling. /
These went far to atone for the high tenn /
per the educated selfshness and the wilful
disposition of Miss Phema.
Ii would have been better for her if herE
father had lived, but at six years old sheu
lost him. He was killed instantly by fall
from too spirited horse which he was try-I
ing, and Phema only had childish memory
left.
She grew up under the most expensiVel
goVernesses and the most fashionable finish
ing schools, petted and admired, pampered
with every luxury, and her vanity fed and Il
fostered every hour. That she had her own
way was a foregone conclusion; but herH
character was so strong that it asserted itself
even in its wilfulness, and 'Phema's way
was proverbial, both at home and at school.
At is she came out in society, beautiful,
accomplished and headstrong. Mrs. BayardI
had spent all these years since her hus-I
bands death in a recklessly extravaganza life, i
and now, to her great surprise, found herr
property was deprecated and her incomeI
suddenly lessened. She repaired at once toI
her husbands lawyer, and, having learned
the full state of the case, determined, en-
tirely against his advice, to sell everything
she owned and buy an annuity. In vain old \
Mr.. Paine represented to her that this
would utterly impoyerish her daughter, I'M
case of her own death.
81 can not help that" she replied, with Al
cool selfishness that chilled him. II CAM
never live, nor can Phema without our ac-
customed luxuries. She must marry well Il
and she can not do that without an entrance
of the right sort into society. trust sheE
will not need much more. l think not
And Mrs. Bayard's green eyes flashed With
pride that might be called maternal, butt
did not deserve so sacred a name. So shell
bought handsome annuity, without con
sulting or even Informing Euphemia, the!
property having all been left in her hands,
aud then gave the young lady triumpha Mt 1
introduction into society.
But scarcely had sne appeared upon thef
stage, when Mrs. Bayard's mother died, ande
since Phema must be withdrawn at onceb
from the scene of her glories, Mrs. BayardI
resolved to send her for the early part of thes
summer out to Desborough; a country toIynY
of some Importance high among the Masca-
chusetts hills. Here, under the wing of AMI
old aunt of Mr.. Bayard, she would not bel
seen too much to make her future debut
stale and Improbable, and she would ac-
quire a freshness of complexion that thej
boarding school up at Easter, and fort
night of balls directly after, mad a good deal
impaired.
Aunt Allen was clergyman's widow, al
lovely, gentle old lady, living in a SQUARED
white house, set in its grassy yard like al
flower ON a leaf, and canopied with droop- !
ing elms. Phema was charmed. Her cityf
elegancies and affections fell back like calyxs
from a rosebud, and she delighted her aunt
l,x,I hnp
sense, her desire to learn all wholesomeE
country ways, and her unaffected interest
in everything.
Nobody in Desborough knew more of the \
pretty Miss Bayard than the fact that she I
was Mrs. Aliens niece, and, as she la'dA
away the finery her mother and maid had \
packed into her trunk, and contented her I
self with gowns of delicate lawn and print E
ed cambria, with now and then white <
dress for Sundays, and nobody there knew
enough to recognize the hand of the artist in !
the exquisite simplicity of these garments, 4
or to know that the little chip hat, with its e
gold buckle and floating feather, was really
fresh from Payis. She was not suspected
of being rich nor fashionable; and being veryE
pretty, merry and good natnred, she soon I
made friends in Desborough, and, moreover, 4
carried away captive the heart of Mr.. Math- +
er, the lawyer of the place, handsome, in /
tellisent young fellow, come of good race,
sturdy and selfreliant, only-he was poor 4
But this did not disturb Euphemia. She
fell in love with him as simply as if Arcadia
was her birthplace; and before her signal OF
recall came, both were plunged fathoms
deep in honest, old-fashioned passion, with
which society and money have no more to +
do than they have with Heaven.
Aunt Allen did not interfere, for she saw
no reason to. 1t was all right in her I'M =
worldly eyes. She knew Stephen Mather
was good enough for anybody, as she had
often declared, and both she and Phema s
thought John Bayard's daughter would 3
have enough for them both. Phema, how
ever, made Aunt Allen vow to keep her SCI
cret; it pleased her nightly to hear her low \
er spin his webs for the future, calculate
his income, discuss ways and means, and L
praise the neat and simple style of he: ward [
robe.
''The delightful gooser' she Mortified
aunt Allen by saying one day, when Steph- I
en- was scarce out of the gate, "He thinks
Pm a paragon of economy. lie dozen 4
dream that Dobson charged me S25E
apiece for making these lawn dresses, andE
that every scrap of lace on them is real
thread"
Pm sure be DON'T" sighed aunt Allen,
herself at the revelation; but Phema only
laughed, clapped her little hands together,
and waltzed out into the kitchen, where she !
al DiCc GodS6u anu picdS0u 1lduHdu, 1uc Lac
totum of the house, by trying to learn all q
sorts of cooking. And she succeeded aston i
ishingly. Common Gense, a clear head and
deft fingers are as successful in the Kitchen
as everywhere else. Her mother shifted
much (mentaly, of coursel at this new +
freak when Phema boosted of it in her let 3
tiers.
''She is very peculiar" she said with
thin sigh, to her special friend, Mrs. Sluy
ter ITO think of her learning to cook as
amusement. But that is just Phemas way
TO do something NOBODY else would thinkE
Off
Mademoisele did not think it needful to y
report her love affair to her mother SheE
knew very we'll what that astute lady would
think of it, and she wanted to enjoy theK
strange sweetness as long as she might be- 4
fore she aroused TO the battle which was in 1
evitable. Al last, however, her call came. 4
Mrs. Bayard was ready to 90 to Newport, Y
for it was the middle of August, and fort 1
nights sea air might be permitted even to a
mourner Euphemia's elaborate prepare
tions were all made in the city, under herE
mothers eye, while she was drinking in bliss
and pure air at Desborough; and her ward