A WOMAN TRANSFIGURED.
His wife. Eva had not thought of that. It had been enough that he loved
her, and she loved him. Now an idea of the future flashed through her
happiness, and she remembered how far they two were apart. His wife! The
holy word thrilled her from head to foot with unutterable bliss, mingled
with apprehension.
“Ah!” she said, “what a strange, sweet word it is. How much it means;
how impossible that I should bear it.”
“It is the sweetest possibility on earth, my Eva; one that I have had in
my heart of hearts since we first met.”
“How strange,” murmured the girl. “But you are so fearless. I never
dared look so far.”
“But now, my girl, now!”
Ivon threw his arms around her drooping figure, and kissed her with
passionate warmth.
A woman had been lying insensible back of a little jungle of
broad-leaved tropical plants, out of which a slender tree rose to the
glass roof. The coldness of the marble, and some stray drops that
reached her from the fountain, brought her back to life, when she heard
the low murmur of voices close by, and arose to leave the conservatory.
The place where Ivon and Eva stood was sheltered from sight by the
plants that concealed this lady; but through the leaves she saw the
girl’s face, bathed in blushes, as it escaped from the first kisses of
love—and the look of intense happiness that flushed it, stung her to the
soul. One man alone was in her thoughts, and his supposed presence
there, while she lay stricken lifeless, by the cruel truth he had told
her, was maddening.
A stir among the plants drew Eva’s attention that way. She saw a pair of
white arms flung upward, on which great jewels flashed in the moonlight
of the lamps, and shrunk away from Ivon, passing to the other side of
the fountain, startled and ashamed.
Before Ivon could speak or follow her, Mrs. Lambert rushed by the
fountain, and, seizing Eva by the arm, looked fiercely into her face.
“Never, never, while you and I live, shall you marry that man! Girl,
remember that I have warned you! Speak to him—look at him again at your
peril! Some things are impossible—this is one. Turn those eyes from my
face—never dare to look at me again.”
Like a storm, the woman had burst upon Eva; her face was as white as
snow; her colorless lips trembled. The diamonds quivering with fire on
her throat and head, were less brilliant than her wild, fierce eyes.
Before Eva could speak, or Ivon move, she had swept out of the
conservatory, without casting a look on the young man.
“It—it is your mother!” said Eva, as Ivon came toward her; so astonished
by this outburst in a woman whose self-control had been perfect all the
years he had known her, that surprise had kept him motionless.
“Yes,” he said, “it is my mother; but so changed, so fearfully
transfigured, that I scarcely recognized her. She seemed to threaten
you.”
“She did threaten me; her eyes were fierce with hate. What have I done
that she should assail me so?”
“What have the angels done? I do not understand this, Eva. It is unlike
Mrs. Lambert, who is usually so proud and cold, scarcely deigning to
express her own wishes.”
“She heard all we said, and it drove her wild. Oh, her face was
terrible!”
“I scarcely knew it. If she heard all, it was the suddenness that
overwhelmed her. But she is generous. When you are my wife——”
“Ah!” said Eva, drawing away from him. “How is it possible? I have no
right here.”
“Why have you no right, Eva?”
“The poor have no rights in a place like this,” answered the girl,
looking wildly around. “I have been dreaming!”
“It will be your fault, and my eternal misfortune, if this dream does
not last for life,” said Ivon.
Eva shook her head. Her brief trance of happiness was broken up.
“But I will have it so,” persisted Ivon, passionately. “On all the earth
there is not another woman who shall be my wife.”
“Let us go now,” answered Eva, sadly. “Your mother will be watching. I
should have remembered her look, when she first saw me standing by Mrs.
Carter.”
“But for that I might not have said here and now, that no man living
ever loved a woman as I love you,” said Ivon.
Eva lifted her eyes; they were full of tears.
“I shall never forget that you wished to atone for her injustice.”
“Atone! Girl, I love you devotedly, madly. She knows it. I have told her
so. And you love me.”
Eva dashed the tears from her eyes.
“Yes, I love you so well that nothing shall induce me to degrade you, by
an unsuitable or unauthorized marriage. Your mother——”
“My mother is dead long ago! This lady was my father’s wife; kind and
generous as any real mother could be, till now. I have never wished to
dispute her authority; but here it must end!”
“To that, no act of mine shall tempt you,” said Eva. “I see now how vain
and unwise it was to accept this invitation.”
“Oh, Eva, how wild and unkind all this is! A moment ago I was supremely
happy. Now the violence of a lady, who has, in fact, no authority over
us, is enough to turn you against me.”
“No,” said Eva, “if she had not aroused me with such cruel violence, it
must have come to the same thing. I have no part in this scene, no place
among the more fortunate women who grace it.”
“But you have a place in my heart, Eva.”
“I know it; but that is a misfortune which I have brought upon you.”
“A misfortune! It is my glory. Understand me, Eva. From this night, you
are my betrothed wife. Nothing shall separate us; no, not even your own
proud will.”
Eva smiled, but the smile was more pathetic than tears.
“Ah, if my will were all!”
“That, going with me, girl, no power on earth shall reach us.”
His courage and his ardor failed to inspire her. She had been cruelly
wounded, and the pride she was scarcely conscious of, armed her against
him.
“Let me go now,” she said, preparing to leave the conservatory.
“Not till you have promised; not till your dear lips have once answered
mine,” he replied, straining her to his bosom again, spite of her
breathless protest. “Leave everything to me. Have no fear that your
womanly dignity will suffer, or that I shall yield one jot of the
independence that belongs to me.”
Eva had no heart to answer. She withdrew herself gently from his arms,
and moved toward the door, pale and trembling; for, to her, it was a
final parting. He followed her haughty and resolute.