“Only to Lakeville on business. I shall be back the day before I start south.”
“There go the last few hours!” thought Eve.
The third evening after, Hollis came up the path to Paul’s door. The judge, Eve, Cicely, and Porley with Jack, were sitting on the steps, after the Port aux Pins fashion. They had all been using their best blandishments to induce Master Jack to go to bed; but that young gentleman refused; he played patty-cake steadily with Porley, looking at the others out of the corner of his eye; and if Porley made the least attempt to rise, he set up loud bewailings, with his face screwed, but without a tear. It was suspected that these were pure artifice; and not one of his worshippers could help admiring his sagacity. They altogether refrained from punishing it.
“I was at the post-office, so I thought I’d just inquire for you,” said Hollis. “There was only one letter; it’s for Miss Bruce.”
Eve took the letter and put it in her pocket. She had recognized the handwriting instantly.
Hollis, who also knew the handwriting, began to praise himself in his own mind as rapidly as he could for bringing it. “It was a good thing to do, and a kind thing; you must manage jobs like that for her often, C. Hollis. Then you’ll be sure that you ain’t, yourself, a plumb fool. She doesn’t open it? Of course she doesn’t. Sit down, and stop your jawing!”
Eve did not open her letter until she reached her own room. It was eleven o’clock; when she was safely behind her bolted door, she took it from its envelope and read it. She read it and re-read it; holding it in her hand, she pondered over it. She was standing by the mantelpiece because her lamp was there. After a while she became half conscious that the soles of her feet were aching; she bore it some time longer, still half consciously. When it was one o’clock she sat down. The letter was as follows:
"DEAR EVE,—Now that I am away from her, I can see that Cicely is not so well as we have thought. All that laughing yesterday morning wasn’t natural; I am afraid that she will break down completely when I start south. So I write to suggest that you take her off for a trip of ten days or so; you might go to St. Paul. Then she needn’t see me at all, and it really would be better.
“As to seeing you again—
“Yours sincerely, PAUL TENNANT.”