“I said ‘perhaps.’ But I cannot let him go now—not just now. I am telling you what has happened because you really seem to care for him.”
“I think I have showed that I care for him!”
“Well, I have let you.”
“What are we to do, then, if you won’t let me take him away?” said Eve, in despair. “Will that man come here?”
“He may. He will go to Savannah, and if he learns there that I am here, he may follow me. But he will never go to Romney, he doesn’t like Romney; even in the beginning, when I begged him to go, he never would. He—” She paused.
“Jealous, I suppose,” suggested the sister, with a bitter laugh—“jealous of Jack’s poor bones in the burying-ground. Your two ghosts will have a duel, Cicely.”
“Oh, Ferdie isn’t dead!” said Cicely, with sudden terror. She grasped Eve’s arm. “Have you heard anything? Tell me—tell me.”
Eve looked at her.
“Yes, I love him,” said Cicely, answering the look. “I have loved him ever since the first hour I saw him. It’s more than love; it’s adoration.”
“You never said that of Jack.”