Part 54 (1/2)
”I do not care about it,” with a stifled sigh. ”We shall be awfully rich, Eva; but I suppose women like that sort of thing. I shall be able to buy you that diamond pendant now that you so admired.”
”No, no; I do not want it; you give me too many presents. Tell me, Erle, does Miss Trafford come to see her mother, now she is ill?”
”Yes, of course; but I never see her,” he answered so quickly that Evelyn looked at him in surprise. ”I have not spoken to her once since Uncle Rolf's death--the lawyers keep me so busy; and I never go into the sick-room unless I am specially invited.”
”But poor Mrs. Trafford is better now.”
”Yes; and Doctor Connor says that it will be better for her to be anywhere than at Belgrave House. We want to persuade her to go down to Hastings for the rest of the winter. When I see Miss Trafford, I mean to speak to her about it; but”--interrupting himself hurriedly--”never mind all that now; you told me in your letter that you wanted to speak to me particularly. What is it, Eva?” looking at her very kindly.
”Yes; I have long wanted to speak to you,” she returned, dropping her eyes, and he could see that she was much agitated. ”Erle, you must not misunderstand me; I am finding no fault with you. You are always good to me--no one could be kinder; but you are not treating me with perfect frankness.”
”What do you mean?” he asked, astonished at this, for no suspicion of her meaning dawned upon him. ”You have no fault to find with me.
Surely want of frankness is a fault?”
”Yes, but I think it is only your thought for me. You are so anxious that everything should be made smooth and bright for me, that you do not give me your full confidence, Erle”--pressing closer to him, and looking up in his face with her clear, loving eyes. ”Do you think that I can love you so and not notice how changed you have been of late--how pale and care-worn? though you have tried to hide from me that you were unhappy.”
He pulled his mustache nervously, but he could not answer her.
”How often I have watched for you,” she continued, ”when your poor uncle's illness has detained you, and have seen you cross the square with your head bent and such a sad look on your face; and yet, when we meet, you have nothing for me but pleasant words, as though my presence had dispelled the cloud.”
”And why not, Eva? do you think your bright face would not charm away any melancholy mood?” But she turned away as though not noticing the little compliment. He was always making these pretty speeches to her, but just now they jarred on her. It was truth--his whole confidence--that she wanted; and no amount of soft words could satisfy her.
”You are always good to me--always,” she went on; ”but you do not tell me all that is in your heart. When no one is speaking to you, I often see such a tired, hara.s.sed look on your face, and yet you will never tell me what is troubling you, dear; when we come together--when you make me your wife, will our life be always unclouded; am I to share none of your cares and perplexities then?”
He was silent; how was he to answer her?
”It would not be a true marriage,” she continued, in a low, vehement tone, ”if you did not think me worthy to share your thoughts. Erle, you are not treating me well; why do you not tell me frankly what makes you so unlike yourself. Can you look me in the face and tell me that you are perfectly happy and satisfied?”
”I am very fond of you; what makes you talk like this, Eva?” but his eyelids drooped uneasily, How was he to meet those candid eyes and tell her that he was happy--surely the lie would choke him--when he knew that he was utterly miserable.
”Erle,” she said in a low voice, and her face became very pale, ”you do not look at me, and somehow your manner frightens me; you are fond of me, you say--a few months ago you asked me to be your wife; can you take my hand now and tell me, as I understood you to tell me then, that I am dearer to you than any one else in the world?”
”You have no right to put such a question,” he returned, angrily. ”You have no right to doubt me. I have not deserved this, Eva.”
”No right!” and now her face grew paler. ”I think I have the right, Erle. You do not wish to answer the question; that is because some one has come between us. It is true, then, that there is some one dearer to you than I am?”
He hid his face in his hands. No, he could not lie to her. Was not Fay's miserable exile a warning to him against marriage without confidence. He would have spared her if he could, but her love was too keen-eyed. He could not take her hand and perjure his soul with a lie; he loved her, but he could not tell her that she was the dearest thing in the world to him.
It all came out presently. He never knew how he told it, but the sad little story of his love for Fern Trafford got itself told at last.
Poor Erle, he whose heart was so pitiful that he forbore to tread on the insect in his path, now found himself compelled to hurt--perhaps wound fatally--the girl who had given him her heart.
Evelyn heard him silently to the end. The small white hands were crushed together in her lap, and her face grew white and set as she listened; but when he had finished, and sat there looking so downcast, so ashamed, so unlike himself, her clear, unfaltering voice made him raise his eyes in astonishment. ”I thank you for this confidence; if--if--” and here her lips quivered, ”we had been married, and you had told me then, I think it would have broken my heart; but now--it is better now.”
”And you can forgive me, dear; you can be sorry for me? Oh, Eva! if you will only trust me, all may yet be well. I shall be happier now you know the truth.”
”There is nothing to forgive,” she answered, quickly; ”it is no fault of yours, my poor Erle, and you were always good to me--no,” as he tried to interrupt her, ”we will not talk of it any more to-day; my head aches, and of course it has upset me. I want to think over what you have said. It seems”--and here she caught her breath--”as though I can hardly believe it. Will you go away now, dear, and come to me to-morrow? To-morrow we shall see how far we can trust each other.”
”I must go away if you send me,” he answered, humbly; and then he got up and walked to the door. He had never felt more wretched in his life. She had not reproached him, but all the color and life had gone out of her face. She had spoken so mildly, so gently to him. Would she forgive him, and would everything be as though this had never happened? ”Oh, Erle, will you not wish me good-bye?” and then for a moment the poor girl felt as though her heart were breaking. Was she nothing to him after all?
At her words Erle quickly retraced his steps. ”Forgive me, Eva,” he said, and there were tears in his eyes; ”I am not myself, you know; all this takes it out of a man.” And then he stooped over her as though to take her in his arms.