“Be tranquil, be patient, my dear young ladies. I will go at once, and see what this means,” said Ross, taking Eva’s hand, which scarcely trembled more than his own. “They will need some friend. Have no fear; I shall know how to help them.”
“I—I will go with you,” cried Eva, turning to leave the room.
“No; not yet. It would only do harm. All that can be done I will attend to. It is impossible that there should be anything serious in this. Stay quietly at home till you hear from me.”
Eva hesitated. Her first generous impulse was to brave everything for the two beings she loved so dearly. But nobility of purpose is not always prudently carried out. It requires more fortitude to stay at home and wait, than to rush out and act. The girl was brave, but she was also obedient, and when Ruth spoke, she turned from her purpose.
“Stay, Eva,” said the gentle invalid. “You can do nothing. Our good friend will help us. Stay till he comes.”
Eva sat down, and burst into tears. Forbidden to act, she could only weep and wait.
“Tell him that I have left his house! That—that he is a cruel, hard-hearted man! Tell him that there is no sort of use in his ever coming home again—for—for—— Oh, it is dreadful! Why can’t people die when they want to?”
Mrs. Smith would have added more no doubt, but half these words were smothered on Ruth’s couch; and when she looked up, Mr. Ross was passing through the garden-gate.
“Oh, girls, what shall we do?” she exclaimed, “what shall we do! Just say that I never ought to speak to Smith again, and I won’t; no, not if he takes Jerusha Maria out of my arms, and gives her—oh! oh!—to some other woman.”
“My dear friend,” murmured Ruth, “go home to your child—all will be well.”