Ross spoke in a low distinct voice, which scarcely rose above the fall of water-drops in the fountain; but it seemed to fill the whole conservatory. The flowers, the water, and the moon-like lamps, had heard it with herself, and seemed to rejoice over it—triumph over her. The last hope went out from her heart then, and she believed herself to be dying.
CHAPTER XLI.
IVON AND EVA.
A handsomer couple than Ivon Lambert and Eva Laurence never measured perfect happiness to music. Tall, graceful, thrilled with a glow of unspoken love, they fairly floated through the ball-room, which was soon crowded with a circle of curious admirers.
The beauty of this unknown girl had created a wide sensation among Mr. Carter’s guests—a sensation intensified by the hints and jeers flung out by Miss Spicer, who felt herself relieved of a rival, and, next to conquest, loved that species of piquant gossip that approaches a scandal. That young lady had been busy as a humming-bird, in a wild trumpet vine, circulating all that she knew of Eva Laurence—her origin, her occupation, and her engagement to the greatest genius just then in fashion.
All this time Eva, unconscious of the general interest, was dancing more than was proper for a betrothed young lady, with Ivon Lambert.
Who was this girl? Was she really engaged? Had she, in fact, on her very first appearance, enthralled the two men most sought after in fashionable circles? A shop-girl, with that air of grace and refinement? Impossible! That, at least, must be one of Miss Spicer’s canards. Why, in every respect, this girl had all the qualifications of a Reigning Belle.
These were only a few of the whispered comments that went around the circle, as these young people moved harmoniously among the dancers, unconscious of the general attention bestowed upon them.
In the pause of the dance, Ivon noticed the cluster of flowers that bloomed upon his partner’s bosom. Eva blushed when she saw where his eyes were directed.
“You accepted them,” he said, with a smile, “without knowing how many wild thoughts were bound up with the blossoms. Had you dreamed of those thoughts, I fear my violets would not have rested on that bosom now.”
Eva looked down at her flowers, that rose and fell suddenly, as if they had been cast on the snowy crest of a wave, then she lifted her eyes to his—a single glance, and the white lids drooped again.