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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"


'Seems as if it were fate,' said Hope. 'I had seen him so often and
wondered who he was. I recall a night when I had to come home
alone from rehearsal. I was horribly afraid. I remember passing
him under a street lamp. If he had spoken to me, then, I should
have dropped with fear and he would have had to carry me home
that time.
'It's an odd thing a girl like you should ever have to walk home
alone,' said Mr Fuller. 'Doesn't speak well for our friend
Livingstone or Burnham there or Dobbs.
'Mrs Fuller doesn't give us half a chance,' said Livingstone, 'she
guards her day and night. It's like the monks and the Holy Grail.
'Hope is independent of the young men,' said Mrs Fuller as we rose
from the table. 'If I cannot go with her myself, in the carriage, I
always send a maid or a manservant to walk home with her. But
Mr Fuller and I were out of town that night and the young men
missed their great opportunity.
'Had a differ'nt way o' sparkin' years ago,' said Uncle Eb. 'Didn't
never hev if please anybody but the girl then.


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