“Why, Eve, you turn pale with thinking of it. I fear you have had worse thoughts pass through your mind than any man is worth.”
“David, your blood was in my veins, and mine is in yours.
“If I didn't think so! The Lord deliver us from temptation! We don't know ourselves nor those we love.”
“He had driven me mad.”
“Mad, indeed. What! had you the heart to see the man bleed to death—the man you had loved—you, my little gentle Eve?”
“Oh no, no; no blood!” said Eve, with a shudder. “Laudanum!”
“Good God!”
“Oh, I see your thought. No, I was not like the men in the newspapers, that kill the poor woman with a sure hand, and then give themselves a scratch. It was to be one spoonful for him, but two for me. I can't dwell on it” (and she hid her face in her hands); “it is too terrible to remember how far I was misled. Who, think you, saved us both?” David could not guess.
“A little angel—my good angel, that came home from sea that very afternoon. When I saw your curly head, and your sweet, sunburned face come in at the door, guess if I thought of putting death in the pot after that? Ah! the love of our own flesh and blood, that is the love—God and good angels can smile on it.”
“Yes; but go on,” said David, impatiently.