"I am stronger now," she said, and rose to go, but only shrank back in
her seat as she heard a rustling noise, and then a thud, as if some one
had jumped from the wall, while before she could recover herself, Tom
Podmore stood before her.
"Is--is anything wrong?" she gasped; for in her nervous state this
sudden apparition suggested untold horrors to her excited brain.
"It's only me, Miss Eve. I wanted just a word."
"Why--why did you not come to the house?" she faltered,
"Don't be scarred, miss. I only wanted to be sure o' seeing you alone.
I just want to ask you something."
"Yes," she said, composing herself.
"I want to ask you to forgive me, miss, if I hurt your feelings, and do
something as'll make you feel bitter again me."
"You would not hurt me, Tom?" said Eve, rising and laying her hand upon
his arm.
"God knows I wouldn't, miss, any more than I would one of His angels,"
said the young fellow, excitedly; "and that's why I've come. I couldn't
feel as it weer raight not to come, and even though you may think it
spiteful, it isn't, but on'y for your sake alone."
"Yes," said Eve, who felt giddy. "You have something dreadful to tell
me."
"No, Miss," said the young man, solemnly, "not to tell you, only a note
to gi'e you."
"A note--from Mr Selwood?"
"No, miss," said Tom, not seeing the warm flush in the girl's face, "a
note as weer sent last night to my Daisy, and which she give to me an
hour ago."
"A note?" faltered Eve, again.
"Yes, miss, a note. Daisy talked it ower wi' me, and I said as you
ought to see it; and even if it hurts you sore, I felt I must gi'e it to
you, and theer it is."
Eve felt the paper, and was aware of the fact that her visitor had
scrambled over the wall, and was gone, and still she stood clutching the
paper tightly, till a voice made her start, and thrust the paper into
her bosom.
"Eve, my child, it is damp and late."
It was Mrs Glaire calling, and, picking up her presents, Eve slowly
went up the garden, feeling like one in a dream, till she entered
through the open window, where Mrs Glaire was waiting.
"Why, you are quite cold, my child," said Mrs Glaire, tenderly, as she
closed the windows, and led the trembling girl to an easy chair by the
tea-table, the shaded lamp shedding a pleasant glow upon the steaming
urn.
"It is getting cold, aunt," said Eve, with a shiver; and she drank the
tea poured ready for her with avidity.
"More presents, my darling?" said Mrs Glaire, leaning over and kissing
her. "Eve, child, you are making me very happy."
Eve's arms were flung round her neck, and she sobbed there in silence
for a few moments.
"Don't cry, my darling; try and think it is for the best. It is--you
know it is, and the past must all be forgotten. But where is Dick? He
must be buying presents, or arranging something, or he would be here,"
she said, cheerfully. "By the way, Eve, what are those? Did Richard
send them?"
"No, aunt," said Eve, hoarsely; "they are from Mr Selwood."
"Always a kind, good friend," said Mrs Glaire, whose voice shook a
little as she looked at the gifts. "Make Richard think better of him,
Eve, for he is a true, good friend."
Eve did not answer, for her hand was upon her breast, and beneath that
hand she could feel the paper. Her great dread was that Richard should
come back, and she prayed that he might not return.
Ten o'clock sounded, and then eleven, from the little pendule on the
chimney-piece, and still he did not come; and Mrs Glaire, noticing the
poor girl's agitation, proposed rest.
"I will sit up for Dick, Eve," she said, cheerfully. "He is preparing
some surprise;" but, as soon as her niece had kissed her lovingly, and
left the room, a haggard look came over the mother's countenance, and
she knelt down for a few moments beside the couch.
She started up, though, for she heard her son's step in the hall, and he
entered directly, looking hot and flushed.
"Where's Evey?" he asked.
"Gone to bed, my boy," replied Mrs Glaire. "Dick, you should have
stayed at home to-night."
"Oh, all right," he said, lightly, and with a bitter sneer; "it's the
last night, and I thought I might have a run."
"I'm not blaming you, dear," said Mrs Glaire, kissing his forehead;
"only poor Eve looked so sad and ill to-night."
Had she seen her then, she would have cried out in fear, for, with an
open paper in her hand, Eve was pacing up and down her room, to throw
herself at last upon her knees in agony, and after many hours sob
herself to sleep.
Volume 3, Chapter XVII.