The Right of Way — Volume 05
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The Right of Way — Volume 05

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The Project Gutenberg EBook The Right of Way, by G. Parker, v5 #74 in our series by Gilbert ParkerCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country beforedownloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do notchange or edit the header without written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom ofthis file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. Youcan also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts****EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****Title: The Right of Way, Volume 5.Author: Gilbert ParkerRelease Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6247] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was firstposted on October 24, 2002]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIGHT OF WAY, PARKER, V5 ***This eBook was produced by David Widger THE RIGHT OF WAYBy Gilbert ParkerVolume 5.XLI. IT WAS MICHAELMAS DAY XLII. A TRIAL AND A VERDICT XLIII. JO PORTUGAIS TELLSA STORY XLIV. "WHO WAS KATHLEEN ...

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The Project Gutenberg EBook The Right of Way,by G. Parker, v5 #74 in our series by GilbertParkerCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Besure to check the copyright laws for your countrybefore downloading or redistributing this or anyother Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen whenviewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do notremove it. Do not change or edit the headerwithout written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and otherinformation about the eBook and ProjectGutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included isimportant information about your specific rights andrestrictions in how the file may be used. You canalso find out about how to make a donation toProject Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain VanillaElectronic Texts****EBooks Readable By Both Humans and ByComputers, Since 1971*******These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousandsof Volunteers*****Title: The Right of Way, Volume 5.
Author: Gilbert ParkerRelease Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6247] [Yes,we are more than one year ahead of schedule][This file was first posted on October 24, 2002]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIGHT OF WAY, PARKER, V5***This eBook was produced by David Widger<widger@cecomet.net>THE RIGHT OF WAYBy Gilbert ParkerVolume 5.
XLI. IT WAS MICHAELMAS DAY XLII. ATRIAL AND A VERDICT XLIII. JOPORTUGAIS TELLS A STORY XLIV."WHO WAS KATHLEEN?" XLV. SIXMONTHS GO BY XLVI. THE FORGOTTENMAN XLVII. ONE WAS TAKEN AND THEOTHER LEFT XLVIII. "WHERE THE TREEOF LIFE IS BLOOMING—" XLIX. THEOPEN GATE
CHAPTER XLIIT WAS MICHAELMAS DAYNot a cloud in the sky, and, ruling all, a sweet sun,liberal in warmth and eager in brightness as itsdistance from the northern world decreased. AsMrs. Flynn entered the door of the post-office shesang out to Maximilian Cour, with a buoyant lilt:"Oh, isn't it the fun o' the world to be alive!"The tailor over the way heard it, and lifted his headwith a smile; Rosalie Evanturel, behind the postalwicket, heard it, and her face swam with colour.Rosalie busied herself with the letters and papersfor a moment before she answered Mrs. Flynn'sgreeting, for there were ringing in her ears thewords she herself had said a few days before: "It isgood to live, isn't it?"To-day it was so good to live that life seemed anendless being and a tireless happy doing—a gift oflabour, an inspiring daytime, and a rejoicing sleep.Exaltation, a painful joy, and a wide embarrassingwonderment possessed her. She met Mrs. Flynn'sface at the wicket with shining eyes and a timidsmile."Ah, there y'are, darlin'!" said Mrs. Flynn. "Andhow's the dear father to-day?""He seems about the same, thank you."
"Ah, that's foine. Shure, if we could always be'about the same,' we'd do. True for you, darlin', 'tisas you say. If ould Mary Flynn could be always"bout the same,' the clods o' the valley would nevercover her bones. But there 'tis—we're here to-day,and away tomorrow. Shure, though, I am notcomplainin'. Not I—not Mary Flynn. Teddy Flynnused to say to me, says he: 'Niver born to knowdistress! Happy as worms in a garden avcucumbers. Seventeen years in this country,, Mary,' says he'an' nivir in the pinitintiary yet.'There y'are. Ah, the birds do be singin' to-day! 'Tisgood! 'Tis good, darlin'! You'll not mind Mary Flynncallin' you darlin', though y'are postmistress, an' 'llbe more than that—more than that wan day—orMary Flynn's a fool. Aye, more than that y'll be,darlin', and y're eyes like purty brown topazzes andy're cheeks like roses-shure, is there anny letherfor Mary Flynn, darlin'?" she hastily added as shesaw the Seigneur standing in the doorway. He hadevidently been listening."Ye didn't hear what y're ould fool of a cook wassayin'," she added to the Seigneur, as Rosalieshook her head and answered: "No letters,Madame—dear." Rosalie timidly added the dear,for there was something so great-hearted in Mrs.Flynn that she longed to clasp her round the neck,longed as she had never done in her life to lay herhead upon some motherly breast and pour out herheart. But it was not to be now. Secrecy was herduty still.
"Can't ye speak to y're ould fool of a cook, sir?"Mrs. Flynn said again, as the Seigneur made wayfor her to leave the shop."How did you guess?" he said to her in a low voice,his sharp eyes peering into hers."By the looks in y're face these past weeks, andthe look in hers," she whispered, and went on herway rejoicing."I'll wind thim both round me finger like a wisp o'straw," she said, going up the road with a lightstep, despite her weight, till she was stopped bythe malicious grocer-man of the village, whosetongue had been wagging for hours upon anunwholesome theme.Meanwhile, in the post-office, the Seigneur andRosalie were face to face."It is Michaelmas day," he said. "May I speak withyou, Mademoiselle?"She looked at the clock. It was on the stroke ofnoon. The shop always closed from twelve till half-past twelve."Will you step into the parlour, Monsieur?" shesaid, and coming round the counter, locked theshop-door. She was trembling and confused, andentered the little parlour shyly. Yet her eyes metthe Seigneur's bravely. "Your father, how is he?"he said, offering her a chair. The sunlightstreaming in the window made a sort of pathway of
light between them, while they were in the shade."He seems no worse, and to-day he is wheelinghimself about.""He is stronger, then—that's good. Is there anyfear that he must go to the hospital again?"She inclined her head. "The doctor says he mayhave to go any moment. It may be his one chance.The Cure is very kind, and says that, with yourpermission, his sister will keep the office here, if—ifneeded."The Seigneur nodded briskly. "Of course, ofcourse. But have you not thought that we mightsecure another postmistress?"Her face clouded a little; her heart beat hard. Sheknew what was coming. She dreaded it, but it wasbetter to have it over now."We could not live without it," she said helplessly."What we have saved is not enough. The little mymother had must pay for the visits to the hospital. Ihave kept it for that. You see, I need the placehere.""But you have thought, just the same. Do you notknow the day?" he asked meaningly.She was silent."I have come to ask you to marry me—this is
Michaelmas day, Rosalie."She did not speak. He had hopes from her silence."If anything happened to your father, you could notlive here alone—but a young girl! Your father maybe in the hospital for a long time. You cannot affordthat. If I were to offer you money, you wouldrefuse. If you marry me, all that I have is yours todispose of at your will: to make others happy, totake you now and then from this narrow place, tosee what's going on in the world." "I am happy here,"she said falteringly."Chaudiere is the finest place in the world," hereplied proudly, and as a matter of fact. "But, forthe sake of knowledge, you should see what therest of the world is. It helps you to understandChaudiere better. I ask you to be my wife,Rosalie."She shook her head sorrowfully."You said before, it was not because I am old, notbecause I am rich, not because I am Seigneur, notbecause I am I, that you refused me."She smiled at him now. "That is true," she said."Then what reason can you have? None, none.'Pon honour, I believe you are afraid of marriagebecause it's marriage. By my life, there's naught todread. A little giving here and taking there, and it'seasy. And when a woman is all that's good, to aman, it can be done without fear or trembling. Even
the Cure would tell you that"."Ah, I know, I know," she said, in a voice halfpainful, half joyous. I know that it is so. But, oh,"dear Monsieur, I cannot marry you— never—never."He hung on bravely. "I want to make life easy andhappy for you. I want the right to do so. Whentrouble comes upon you—""When it does I will turn to you—ah, yes, I wouldturn to you without fear, dear Monsieur," she said,and her heart ached within her, for a premonitionof sorrow came upon her and filled her eyes, andmade her heart like lead within her breast. "I knowhow true a gentleman you are," she added. "I couldgive you everything but that which is life to me,which is being, and soul, and the beginning and theend."The weight of the revealing hour of her life, itswonder, its agony, its irrevocability, was upon her.It was giving new meanings to existence- primitivewoman, child of nature as she was. All morningshe had longed to go out into the woods and buryherself among the ferns and bracken, and laughand weep for very excess of feeling, downright joyand vague woe possessing her at once. Shelooked the Seigneur in the eyes with consumingearnestness."Oh, it is not because I am young," she said, in alow voice, "for I am old—indeed, I am very old. It isbecause I cannot love you, and never can love you
because I cannot love you, and never can love youin the one great way; and I will not marry withoutlove. My heart is fixed on that. When I marry, it willbe when I love a man so much that I cannot livewithout him. If he is so poor that each meal is amiracle, it will make no difference. Oh, can't yousee, can't you feel, what I mean, Monsieur—youwho are so wise and learned, and know the worldso well?""Wise and learned!" he said, a little roughly, for hisvoice was husky with emotion. "'Pon honour, I thinkI am a fool! A bewildered fool, that knows no moreof woman than my cook knows Sanscrit. Faith, ahundred times less! For Mary Flynn's got an eye tosee, and, without telling, she knew I had a mind seton you. But Mary Flynn thought more than that, forshe has an idea that you've a mind set on someone, Rosalie. She thought it might be me.""A woman is not so easily read as a man," shereplied, half smiling, but with her eyes turned to thestreet. A few people were gathering in front of thehouse—she wondered why."There is some one else—that is it, Rosalie. Thereis some one else."You shall tell me who it is. You shall—He stopped short, for there was a loud knocking atthe shop-door, and the voice of M. Evanturelcalling: "Rosalie! Rosalie! Rosalie! Ah, come quickly—ah, my Rosalie!"Without a look at the Seigneur, Rosalie rushed into