The Wooing of Bessy

"The Wooing of Bessy" is a charming short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores themes of love, courtship, and personal growth. Set in a rural community, the narrative follows Bessy, a young woman caught between societal expectations and her own desires. When a determined suitor arrives, Bessy must navigate her feelings and make choices that will shape her future. Through Montgomery's lyrical prose, the story captures the complexities of romance and the nuances of human relationships, all while painting a vivid portrait of the Canadian countryside.

• Short story

								
When Lawrence Eastman began going to see Bessy Houghton the Lynnfield
people shrugged their shoulders and said he might have picked out
somebody a little younger and prettier--but then, of course, Bessy was
well off. A two-hundred-acre farm and a substantial bank account were
worth going in for. Trust an Eastman for knowing upon which side his
bread was buttered.

Lawrence was only twenty, and looked even younger, owing to his
smooth, boyish face, curly hair, and half-girlish bloom. Bessy
Houghton was in reality no more than twenty-five, but Lynnfield people
had the impression that she was past thirty. She had always been older
than her years--a quiet, reserved girl who dressed plainly and never
went about with other young people. Her mother had died when Bessy was
very young, and she had always kept house for her father. The
responsibility made her grave and mature. When she was twenty her
father died and Bessy was his sole heir. She kept the farm and took
the reins of government in her own capable hands. She made a success
of it too, which was more than many a man in Lynnfield had done.

Bessy had never had a lover. She had never seemed like other girls,
and passed for an old maid when her contemporaries were in the flush
of social success and bloom.

Mrs. Eastman, Lawrence's mother, was a widow with two sons. George,
the older, was the mother's favourite, and the property had been
willed to him by his father. To Lawrence had been left the few
hundreds in the bank. He stayed at home and hired himself to George,
thereby adding slowly to his small hoard. He had his eye on a farm in
Lynnfield, but he was as yet a mere boy, and his plans for the future
were very vague until he fell in love with Bessy Houghton.

In reality nobody was more surprised over this than Lawrence himself.
It had certainly been the last thing in his thoughts on the dark,
damp night when he had overtaken Bessy walking home alone from prayer
meeting and had offered to drive her the rest of the way.

Bessy assented and got into his buggy. At first she was very silent,
and Lawrence, who was a bashful lad at the best of times, felt
tongue-tied and uncomfortable. But presently Bessy, pitying his
evident embarrassment, began to talk to him. She could talk well, and
Lawrence found himself entering easily into the spirit of her piquant
speeches. He had an odd feeling that he had never known Bessy Houghton
before; he had certainly never guessed that she could be such good
company. She was very different from the other girls he knew, but he
decided that he liked the difference.

"Are you going to the party at Baileys' tomorrow night?" he asked, as
he helped her to alight at her door.

"I don't know," she answered. "I'm invited--but I'm all alone--and
parties have never been very much in my line."

There was a wistful note in her voice, and Lawrence detecting it, said
hurriedly, not giving himself time to get frightened: "Oh, you'd
better go to this one. And if you like, I'll call around and take
you."

He wondered if she would think him very presumptuous. He thought her
voice sounded colder as she said: "I am afraid that it would be too
much trouble for you."

"It wouldn't be any trouble at all," he stammered. "I'll be very
pleased to take you."

In the end Bessy had consented to go, and the next evening Lawrence
called for her in the rose-red autumn dusk.

Bessy was ready and waiting. She was dressed in what was for her
unusual elegance, and Lawrence wondered why people called Bessy
Houghton so plain. Her figure was strikingly symmetrical and softly
curved. Her abundant, dark-brown hair, instead of being parted plainly
and drawn back into a prim coil as usual, was dressed high on her
head, and a creamy rose nestled amid the becoming puffs and waves.
She wore black, as she usually did, but it was a lustrous black silk,
simply and fashionably made, with frost-like frills of lace at her
firm round throat and dainty wrists. Her cheeks were delicately
flushed, and her wood-brown eyes were sparkling under her long lashes.

She offered him a half-opened bud for his coat and pinned it on for
him. As he looked down at her he noticed what a sweet mouth she
had--full and red, with a half child-like curve.

The fact that Lawrence Eastman took Bessy Houghton to the Baileys'
party made quite a sensation at that festal scene. People nodded and
winked and wondered. "An old maid and her money," said Milly Fiske
spitefully. Milly, as was well known, had a liking for Lawrence
herself.

Lawrence began to "go with" Bessy Houghton regularly after that. In
his single-mindedness he never feared that Bessy would misjudge his
motives or imagine him to be prompted by mercenary designs. He never
thought of her riches himself, and it never occurred to him that she
would suppose he did.

He soon realized that he loved her, and he ventured to hope timidly
that she loved him in return. She was always rather reserved, but the
few favours that meant nothing from other girls meant a great deal
from Bessy. The evenings he spent with her in her pretty sitting-room,
their moonlight drives over long, satin-smooth stretches of snowy
roads, and their walks home from church and prayer meeting under the
winter stars, were all so many moments of supreme happiness to
Lawrence.

       *       *       *       *       *

Matters had gone thus far before Mrs. Eastman got her eyes opened. At
Mrs. Tom Bailey's quilting party an officious gossip took care to
inform her that Lawrence was supposed to be crazy over Bessy Houghton,
who was, of course, encouraging him simply for the sake of having
someone to beau her round, and who would certainly throw him over in
the end since she knew perfectly well that it was her money he was
after.

Mrs. Eastman was a proud woman and a determined one. She had always
disliked Bessy Houghton, and she went home from the quilting resolved
to put an instant stop to "all such nonsense" on her son's part.

"Where is Lawrie?" she asked abruptly; as she entered the small
kitchen where George Eastman was lounging by the fire.

"Out in the stable grooming up Lady Grey," responded her older son
sulkily. "I suppose he's gadding off to see Bessy Houghton again, the
young fool that he is! Why don't you put a stop to it?"

"I am going to put a stop to it," said Mrs. Eastman grimly. "I'd have
done it before if I'd known. You should have told me of it if you
knew. I'm going out to see Lawrence right now."

George Eastman muttered something inaudible as the door closed behind
her. He was a short, thickset man, not in the least like Lawrence, who
was ten years his junior. Two years previously he had made a furtive
attempt to pay court to Bessy Houghton for the sake of her wealth, and
her decided repulse of his advances was a remembrance that made him
grit his teeth yet. He had hated her bitterly ever since.

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