For four years after their return home Eunice had a hard and anxious life.  Christopher was idle and dissipated.  Most people regarded him as a worthless fellow, and his uncle washed his hands of him utterly.  Only Eunice never failed him; she never reproached or railed; she worked like a slave to keep things together.  Eventually her patience prevailed.  Christopher, to a great extent, reformed and worked harder.  He was never unkind to Eunice, even in his rages.  It was not in him to appreciate or return her devotion; but his tolerant acceptance of it was her solace.

When Eunice was twenty-eight, Edward Bell wanted to marry her.  He was a plain, middle-aged widower with four children; but, as Caroline did not fail to remind her, Eunice herself was not for every market, and the former did her best to make the match.  She might have succeeded had it not been for Christopher.  When he, in spite of Caroline’s skillful management, got an inkling of what was going on, he flew into a true Holland rage.  If Eunice married and left him—­he would sell the farm and go to the Devil by way of the Klondike.  He could not, and would not, do without her.  No arrangement suggested by Caroline availed to pacify him, and, in the end, Eunice refused to marry Edward Bell.  She could not leave Christopher, she said simply, and in this she stood rock-firm.  Caroline could not budge her an inch.

“You’re a fool, Eunice,” she said, when she was obliged to give up in despair.  “It’s not likely you’ll ever have another chance.  As for Chris, in a year or two he’ll be marrying himself, and where will you be then?  You’ll find your nose nicely out of joint when he brings a wife in here.”

The shaft went home.  Eunice’s lips turned white.  But she said, faintly, “The house is big enough for us both, if he does.”

Caroline sniffed.

“Maybe so.  You’ll find out.  However, there’s no use talking.  You’re as set as your mother was, and nothing would ever budge her an inch.  I only hope you won’t be sorry for it.”

When three more years had passed Christopher began to court Victoria Pye.  The affair went on for some time before either Eunice or the Hollands go wind of it.  When they did there was an explosion.  Between the Hollands and the Pyes, root and branch, existed a feud that dated back for three generations.  That the original cause of the quarrel was totally forgotten did not matter; it was matter of family pride that a Holland should have no dealings with a Pye.

When Christopher flew so openly in the face of this cherished hatred, there could be nothing less than consternation.  Charles Holland broke through his determination to have nothing to do with Christopher, to remonstrate.  Caroline went to Eunice in as much of a splutter as if Christopher had been her own brother.

Eunice did not care a row of pins for the Holland-Pye feud.  Victoria was to her what any other girl, upon whom Christopher cast eyes of love, would have been—­a supplanter.  For the first time in her life she was torn with passionate jealousy; existence became a nightmare to her.  Urged on by Caroline, and her own pain, she ventured to remonstrate with Christopher, also.  She had expected a burst of rage, but he was surprisingly good-natured.  He seemed even amused.