The Setness of Theodosia

"The Setness of Theodosia" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a captivating tale that revolves around the life of Theodosia, a spirited and imaginative young woman. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century Canada, the story explores themes of personal identity, societal expectations, and the quest for belonging. As Theodosia navigates her relationships and aspirations, she grapples with the challenges of conformity and the desire for self-discovery. Montgomery’s lyrical prose brings to life the beauty of the natural world and the complexities of the human heart, making this novel a poignant reflection on the journey toward self-acceptance and fulfillment.

• Short story

								
When Theodosia Ford married Wesley Brooke after a courtship of three
years, everybody concerned was satisfied. There was nothing
particularly romantic in either the courtship or marriage. Wesley was
a steady, well-meaning, rather slow fellow, comfortably off. He was
not at all handsome. But Theodosia was a very pretty girl with the
milky colouring of an auburn blonde and large china-blue eyes. She
looked mild and Madonna-like and was known to be sweet-tempered.
Wesley's older brother, Irving Brooke, had married a woman who kept
him in hot water all the time, so Heatherton folks said, but they
thought there was no fear of that with Wesley and Theodosia. They
would get along together all right.

Only old Jim Parmelee shook his head and said, "They might, and then
again they mightn't"; he knew the stock they came of and it was a kind
you could never predict about.

Wesley and Theodosia were third cousins; this meant that old Henry
Ford had been the great-great-grandfather of them both. Jim Parmelee,
who was ninety, had been a small boy when this remote ancestor was
still alive.

"I mind him well," said old Jim on the morning of Theodosia's wedding
day. There was a little group about the blacksmith's forge. Old Jim
was in the centre. He was a fat, twinkling-eyed old man, fresh and
ruddy in spite of his ninety years. "And," he went on, "he was about
the settest man you'd ever see or want to see. When old Henry Ford
made up his mind on any p'int a cyclone wouldn't turn him a
hairsbreadth--no, nor an earthquake neither. Didn't matter a mite how
much he suffered for it--he'd stick to it if it broke his heart. There
was always some story or other going round about old Henry's setness.
The family weren't quite so bad--only Tom. He was Dosia's
great-grandfather, and a regular chip of the old block. Since then
it's cropped out now and again all through the different branches of
the family. I mistrust if Dosia hasn't got a spice of it, and Wes
Brooke too, but mebbe not."

Old Jim was the only croaker. Wesley and Theodosia were married, in
the golden prime of the Indian summer, and settled down on their snug
little farm. Dosia was a beautiful bride, and Wesley's pride in her
was amusingly apparent. He thought nothing too good for her, the
Heatherton people said. It was a sight to make an old heart young to
see him march up the aisle of the church on Sunday in all the glossy
splendour of his wedding suit, his curly black head held high and his
round boyish face shining with happiness, stopping and turning proudly
at his pew to show Theodosia in.

They always sat alone together in the big pew, and Alma Spencer, who
sat behind them, declared that they held each other's hands all
through the service. This lasted until spring; then came a sensation
and scandal, such as decorous Heatherton had not known since the time
Isaac Allen got drunk at Centreville Fair and came home and kicked his
wife.

One evening in early April Wesley came home from the store at "the
Corner," where he had lingered to talk over politics and farming
methods with his cronies. This evening he was later than usual, and
Theodosia had his supper kept warm for him. She met him on the porch
and kissed him. He kissed her in return, and held her to him for a
minute, with her bright head on his shoulder. The frogs were singing
down in the south meadow swamp, and there was a splendour of silvery
moonrise over the wooded Heatherton hills. Theodosia always remembered
that moment.

When they went in, Wesley, full of excitement, began to talk of what
he had heard at the store. Ogden Greene and Tom Cary were going to
sell out and go to Manitoba. There were better chances for a man out
there, he said; in Heatherton he might slave all his life and never
make more than a bare living. Out west he might make a fortune.

Wesley talked on in this strain for some time, rehashing all the
arguments he had heard Greene and Cary use. He had always been rather
disposed to grumble at his limited chances in Heatherton, and now the
great West seemed to stretch before him, full of alluring prospects
and visions. Ogden and Tom wanted him to go too, he said. He had half
a notion to. Heatherton was a stick-in-the-mud sort of place anyhow.

"What say, Dosia?"

He looked across the table at her, his eyes bright and questioning.
Theodosia had listened in silence, as she poured his tea and passed
him her hot, flaky biscuits. There was a little perpendicular wrinkle
between her straight eyebrows.

"I think Ogden and Tom are fools," she said crisply. "They have good
farms here. What do they want to go west for, or you, either? Don't
get silly notions in your head, Wes."

Wesley flushed.

"Wouldn't you go with me, Dosia?" he said, trying to speak lightly.

"No, I wouldn't," said Theodosia, in her calm, sweet voice. Her face
was serene, but the little wrinkle had grown deeper. Old Jim Parmelee
would have known what it meant. He had seen the same expression on
old Henry Ford's face many a time.

Wesley laughed good-humouredly, as if at a child. His heart was
suddenly set on going west, and he was sure he could soon bring
Theodosia around. He did not say anything more about it just then.
Wesley thought he knew how to manage women.

When he broached the subject again, two days later, Theodosia told him
plainly that it was no use. She would never consent to leave
Heatherton and all her friends and go out to the prairies. The idea
was just rank foolishness, and he would soon see that himself.

All this Theodosia said calmly and sweetly, without any trace of
temper or irritation. Wesley still believed that he could persuade her
and he tried perseveringly for a fortnight. By the end of that time he
discovered that Theodosia was not a great-great-granddaughter of old
Henry Ford for nothing.

Not that Theodosia ever got angry. Neither did she laugh at him. She
met his arguments and pleadings seriously enough, but she never
wavered.

"If you go to Manitoba, Wes, you'll go alone," she said. "I'll never
go, so there is no use in any more talking."

Wesley was a descendant of old Henry Ford too. Theodosia's unexpected
opposition roused all the latent stubbornness of his nature. He went
over to Centreville oftener, and kept his blood at fever heat talking
to Greene and Cary, who wanted him to go with them and spared no pains
at inducement.

The matter was gossiped about in Heatherton, of course. People knew
that Wesley Brooke had caught "the western fever," and wanted to sell
out and go to Manitoba, while Theodosia was opposed to it. They
thought Dosia would have to give in in the end, but said it was a pity
Wes Brooke couldn't be contented to stay where he was well off.

Theodosia's family naturally sided with her and tried to dissuade
Wesley. But he was mastered by that resentful irritation, roused in a
man by opposition where he thinks he should be master, which will

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