Iron Woman

Margaret Deland

Description

Set in the nineteenth century in a quaint community on the Ohio River, The Iron Woman is a romance novel that recounts the twists and turns of the courtship between teenage sweethearts Blair Maitland and Elizabeth Ferguson. There are a number of formidable obstacles that stand in their way -- including the staunch disapproval of Blair's mother, a widowed iron magnate.

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776592999
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE IRON WOMAN
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MARGARET DELAND
 
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The Iron Woman First published in 1911 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-299-9 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-300-2 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII Chapter XIX Chapter XX Chapter XXI Chapter XXII Chapter XXIII Chapter XXIV Chapter XXV Chapter XXVI Chapter XXVII Chapter XXVIII Chapter XXIX Chapter XXX Chapter XXXI Chapter XXXII Chapter XXXIII Chapter XXXIV Chapter XXXV Chapter XXXVI Chapter XXXVII Chapter XXXVIII Chapter XXXIX Chapter XL
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TO MY
PATIENT, RUTHLESS, INSPIRING CRITIC LORIN DELAND
August 12, 1911
Chapter I
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"Climb up in this tree, and play house!" Elizabeth Fergusoncommanded. She herself had climbed to the lowest branch of anapple-tree in the Maitland orchard, and sat there, swinging herwhite-stockinged legs so recklessly that the three children whomshe had summoned to her side, backed away for safety. "If youdon't," she said, looking down at them, "I'm afraid, perhaps,maybe, I'll get mad."
Her foreboding was tempered by a giggle and by the deepeningdimple in her cheek, but all the same she sighed with a sort ofimpersonal regret at the prospect of any unpleasantness. "Itwould be too bad if I got mad, wouldn't it?" she saidthoughtfully. The others looked at one another in consternation.They knew so well what it meant to have Elizabeth "mad," thatNannie Maitland, the oldest of the little group, said at once,helplessly, "Well."
Nannie was always helpless with Elizabeth, just as she washelpless with her half-brother, Blair, though she was ten andElizabeth and Blair were only eight; but how could a little girllike Nannie be anything but helpless before a brother whom sheadored, and a wonderful being like Elizabeth?—Elizabeth! whoalways knew exactly what she wanted to do, and who instantly "gotmad," if you wouldn't say you'd do it, too; got mad, and thenrepented, and hugged you and kissed you, and actually cried (orgot mad again), if you refused to accept as a sign of yourforgiveness her new slate-pencil, decorated with strips of red-and-white paper just like a little barber's pole! No wonderNannie, timid and good-natured, was helpless before such a sweet,furious little creature! Blair had more backbone than his sister,but even he felt Elizabeth's heel upon his neck. David Richie, asilent, candid, very stubborn small boy, was, after a momentarystruggle, as meek as the rest of them. Now, when she commandedthem all to climb, it was David who demurred, because, he said,he spoke first for Indians tomahawking you in the back parlor.
"Very well!" said the despot; "play your old Indians! I'll neverspeak to any of you again as long as I live!"
"I've got on my new pants," David objected.
"Take 'em off!" said Elizabeth. And there is no knowing whatmight have happened if the decorous Nannie had not come to therescue.
"That's not proper to do out-of-doors; and Miss White says not tosay 'pants.'"
Elizabeth looked thoughtful. "Maybe it isn't proper," sheadmitted; "but David, honest, I took a hate to being tommy-hockedthe last time we played it; so please, dear David! Ifyou'll play house in the tree, I'll give you a piece of mytaffy." She took a little sticky package out of her pocket andlicked her lips to indicate its contents;—David yielded,shinning up the trunk of the tree, indifferent to the trousers,which had been on his mind ever since he had put them on hislegs.
Blair followed him, but Nannie squatted on the ground content tomerely look at the courageous three.
"Come on up," said Elizabeth. Nannie shook her little blond head.At which the others burst into a shrill chorus: "'Fraid-cat!'fraid-cat! 'fraid-cat!" Nannie smiled placidly; it neveroccurred to her to deny such an obviously truthful title."Blair," she said, continuing a conversation interrupted byElizabeth's determination to climb, "Blair, why do you saythings that make Mamma mad? What's the sense? If it makes her madfor you to say things are ugly, why do you?"
"'Cause," Blair said briefly. Even at eight Blair disliked bothexplanations and decisions, and his slave and half-sister rarelypressed for either. With the exception of his mother, whoseabsorption in business had never given her time to get acquaintedwith him, most of the people about Blair were his slaves.Elizabeth's governess, Miss White—called by Elizabeth, forreasons of her own, "Cherry-pie"—had completely surrendered tohis brown eyes; the men in the Maitland Works toadied to him;David Richie blustered, perhaps, but always gave in to him; inhis own home, Harris, who was a cross between a butler and amaid-of-all-work, adored him to the point of letting him makecandy on the kitchen stove—probably the greatest expression ofaffection possible to the kitchen; in fact, little ElizabethFerguson was the only person in his world who did not knuckledown to this pleasant and lovable child. But then, Elizabethnever knuckled down to anybody! Certainly not to kind old Cherry-pie, whose timid upper lip quivered like a rabbit's when she wasobliged to repeat to her darling some new rule of RobertFerguson's for his niece's upbringing; nor did she knuckle downto her uncle;—she even declared she was not at all afraid ofhim! This was almost unbelievable to the others, who scatteredlike robins if they heard his step. And she had greater couragethan this; she had, in fact, audacity! for she said she waswilling—this the others told each other in awed tones—she saidshe had "just as lieves" walk right up and speak to Mrs. Maitlandherself, and ask her for twenty cents so she could treat thewhole crowd to ice-cream! That is, she would just as lieves, if she should happen to want to . Now, as she sat in theapple-tree swinging her legs and sharing her taffy, it occurredto her to mention, apropos of nothing, her opinion of Mrs.Maitland's looks:
"I like Blair's mother best; but David's mother is prettier thanBlair's mother."
"It isn't polite to brag on mothers," said David, surveying hisnew trousers complacently, "but I know what I think."
Blair, jouncing up and down on his branch, agreed with unoffendedcandor. "'Course she's prettier. Anybody is. Mother's ugly."
"It isn't right to say things like that out of the family,"Nannie observed.
"This is the family. You're going to marry David, and I'mgoing to marry Elizabeth. And I'm going to be awfully rich; andI'll give all you children a lot of money. Jimmy Sullivan—he's afriend of mine; I got acquainted with him yesterday, and he's thebiggest puddler in our Works. Jimmie said, 'You're the only son,'he said, 'you'll get it all.' 'Course I told him I'd give himsome," said Blair.
At this moment Elizabeth was moved to catch David round the neck,and give him a loud kiss on his left ear. David sighed. "You maykiss me," he said patiently; "but I'd rather you'd tell me whenyou want to. You knocked off my cap."
"Say, David," Nannie said, flinging his cap up to him, "Blair canstand on his head and count five. You can't."
At this David's usual admiration for Blair suffered an eclipse;he grew very red, then exploded: "I—I—I've had mumps, and Ihave two warts, and Blair hasn't. And I have a real dining-roomat my house, and Blair hasn't!"
Nannie flew to the rescue: "You haven't got a real mother. Youare only an adopted."
"Well, what are you?" David said, angrily; "you're nothing but aStep."
"I haven't got any kind of a mother," Elizabeth said, withcomplacent melancholy.
"Stop fighting," Blair commanded amiably; "David is right; wehave a pigsty of a dining-room at our house." He paused to bendover and touch with an ecstatic finger a flake of lichen coveringwith its serpent green the damp, black bark in the crotch of theold tree. "Isn't that pretty?" he said.
"You ought not to say things about our house," Nannie reprovedhim. As Blair used to say when he grew up, "Nannie was bornproper."
"Why not?" said Blair. "They know everything is ugly at ourhouse. They've got real dining-rooms at their houses; they don'thave old desks round, the way we do."
It was in the late sixties that these children played in theapple-tree and arranged their conjugal future; at that time theMaitland house was indeed, as poor little Blair said, "ugly."Twenty years before, its gardens and meadows had stretched overto the river; but the estate had long ago come down in size andgone up in dollars. Now, there was scarcely an acre of sootygreen left, and it was pressed upon by the yards of the MaitlandWorks, and almost islanded by railroad tracks. Grading had leftthe stately and dilapidated old house somewhat above the level ofa street noisy with incessant teaming, and generally fetlock-deepin black mud. The house stood a little back from the badly pavedsidewalk; its meager dooryard was inclosed by an iron fence—arow of black and rusted spears, spotted under their tines withinnumerable gray cocoons. (Blair and David made constant andfurtive attempts to lift these spears, socketed in crumbling leadin the granite base, for of course there could be nothing betterfor fighting Indians than a real iron spear.) The orchard behindthe house had been cut in two by a spur track, which broughtjolting gondola cars piled with red ore down to the furnace. Thehalf dozen apple-trees that were left s