CHAPTER XXXVII.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

HOW EVA BORE THE BLOW.

None could tell how the ubiquitous reporters on the great morning dailies got the news of the broken marriage that night. But the next morning they announced it under various glaring headlines.

No names were given, but a slightly garbled version of the story was presented, so that “all who run may read.”

The young girl who had been the heroine of the terrible Hallowe’en tragedy, and afterward the temporary inmate of a madhouse, was represented as having deceived the scion of one of New York’s best families into an engagement that would have speedily culminated in marriage but for a fortunate happening in his favor.

A cousin of the heroine, coming to the city, and learning of the affair just in time to stop it, had written the bridegroom a long letter with all the facts, and referring him to the bride and her father for confirmation. On their admitting the truth he had renounced her with indignation, and the wedding was off, and the fair lady disconsolate.

Perhaps Mrs. Putnam and Patty could have told who furnished the reporters with their facts, but they remained quiet and enjoyed the sensation.

Fashionable New York society could scarcely credit what they read.

That sweet, innocent-looking young girl, it could not possibly be true! There must be some mistake. Perhaps the jealous cousin had slandered the lovely bride.

Excitement ran high all the morning, and everybody was wondering how poor Eva took the tragic affair. No one could have believed that it was one of the happiest moments of her life when her stricken father told her of Reggie’s visit and furious severance of the marriage engagement.

He did not tell her that hot words had been passed, after he had owned the truth of the story, though stoutly maintaining his daughter’s innocence. He did not wish her to know that he was likely to call Reggie out and fight him before the affair was settled.

He thought it was bad enough for her to hear that her bridegroom had forsaken her. He was not prepared for her reception of his news. He looked for a fainting scene, that was certain; that was why he had desired Miss Winton to stay.

It nearly broke his own heart to tell her the horrible truth. When he had gasped out the dreadful words he expected her clinging arms to drop from his neck, while she sank a dead weight on his breast.

Nothing she could have said or done would have surprised him so much as her first eager words:

“Oh, papa, then I shall not have to marry Reggie after all! What a load it takes off my heart!”

“Eva!”

Her arms tightened about his neck, her lips pressed his cheek warmly, as she murmured:

“Dear papa, it is hard for you, but do not worry over me. I have been realizing that I made a great mistake, promising to marry Reggie. Love was so slow in coming I feared I might never find it, and that was unjust to poor Reggie. But you were all so pleased, so happy, I could not turn back. I had to go right on and make the best of it.”

“My poor darling! But you do not realize that Reggie has made you a target for the world’s scorn.”

“I can outlive it, cannot I, papa? But it is hard for you, dear, you had such pride in me! Oh, let me creep away and die somewhere, and never trouble you more, darling.”

“That is nonsense, my child. Life has been hard and cruel to you, but you were not to blame. As for Patty Groves, I shall know how to punish her for her sin.”

“Is auntie very angry with me, papa, dear?”

“She was at first—with us both. She took Reggie’s part, because we had never taken her into our confidence. She was lying on the floor in a faint when I came up to you, but I sent her maid.”

“Oh, go to her at once and make friends, papa. Then perhaps she will let me come to her, or she will come to me, and Ada will help me to tell her everything, so that she can believe me and love me again.”

Ada Winton came forward and drew her from her father’s arms.

“You are a brave little heroine, Eva. I love you more than ever. Go now to your sister, Mr. Somerville. I will care for our dear girl.”

He went out, and then the friends wept in each other’s arms—the one from relief, the other from sympathy.

“I am so glad, so glad,” was all the burden of the girl’s cry while the world thought she was disconsolate.

And by and by Mrs. Hamilton, disheveled and tearful, rushed into the room and took her into her arms.

“Poor darling, how you have suffered! How much you have gone through!” she cried, in passionate sympathy.

“Oh, auntie, you believe in me after all you have heard?” incredulously.

“As in the angels, my darling. I was angry at first, but my brother has gone over it with me, and I see my mistake. Reggie was hasty and foolish. He will repent and beg you to forgive him to-morrow.”

“I am not angry, auntie. I am only too glad to be free.”

“Eva!”

“Yes, I was trying to love him, but there was another yet dearer, and I could not blot him from my heart.”

Long and earnestly they talked, until the midnighthour chimed, and they sought the restful slumber needed so much after such excitement.

Some there were who did not rest well that night, but Eva was not of them.

Reginald Hamilton paced his floor all night, a prey to alternate rage and despair, loving and hating in the same breath.

Doctor Ludington elected to watch all night by a sinking patient, seeking in professional zeal surcease for a troubled mind, little dreaming what had happened or what the unknown morrow would bring forth.

Patty Groves, gloating over her revenge, could not sleep from sheer satisfaction.

But little Eva, with the terrible weight gone from her heart, fell asleep with tender tears on her lashes, and the pathetic thought:

“Thank Heaven, I can go on loving Rupert again now until he marries Ada. Then it will be a sin!”


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