Part 16 (1/2)
f.a.n.n.y, who had sunk into an easy-chair, at these words sprang up. ”What is the matter? Are you ill?”
”Not in the least, mamma; I am only telling you that I cannot marry Pierre.”
”You _must_ be ill,” pursued f.a.n.n.y. ”You have fever. Don't deny it.” And anxiously she took the girl's hands. But Eva's hands were cooler than her own.
”I don't think I have any fever,” replied Eva. She had been taught to answer all her mother's questions in fullest detail. ”I sleep and eat as usual; I have no headache.”
f.a.n.n.y still looked at her anxiously. ”Then if you are not ill, what can be the matter with you?”
”I have only told you, mamma, that I could not marry Pierre; it seems to me very simple.”
She was so quiet that f.a.n.n.y began at last to realize that she was in earnest. ”My dearest, you know you like Pierre. You have told me so yourself.”
”I don't like him now.”
”What has he done--poor Pierre? He will explain, apologize; you may be sure of that.”
”He has done nothing; I don't want him to apologize. He is as he always is. It is I who have changed.”
”Oh, it is you who have changed,” repeated f.a.n.n.y, bewildered.
”Yes,” answered Eva.
”Come and sit down and tell mamma all about it. You are tired of poor Pierre--is that it? It is very natural, he has been here so often, and stayed so long. But I will tell him that he must go away--leave Sorrento. And he shall stay away as long as you like, Eva; just as long as you like.”
”Then he will stay away forever,” the girl answered, calmly.
f.a.n.n.y waited a moment. ”Did you like Gino better? Is that it?” she said, softly, watching Eva's face.
”No.”
”Thornton Stanley?”
”Oh no!”
”Dear child, explain this a little to your mother. You know I think only of your happiness,” said f.a.n.n.y, with tender solicitude.
Eva evidently tried to obey. ”It was this morning. It came over me suddenly that I could not possibly marry him. Now or a year from now.
Never.” She spoke tranquilly; she even seemed indifferent. But this one decision was made.
”You know that I have given my word to the old Count,” began f.a.n.n.y, in perplexity.
Eva was silent.
”And everything was arranged.”
Eva still said nothing. She looked about the room with wandering attention, as though this did not concern her.
”Of course I would never force you into anything,” f.a.n.n.y went on. ”But I thought Pierre would be so congenial.” In her heart she was asking herself what the young Belgian could have done. ”Well, dear,” she continued, with a little sigh, ”you must always tell mamma everything.”
And she kissed her.