But the Speaker ignored him. He stood up and, including the three other men in one confidential glance, said: “Thomas Wells is right, gentlemen, it grows very late. Let us leave them alone for a few minutes. We will meet again in the morning. Jeremy, do you hear? I will not accept your final answer until the morning.” He moved with ponderous slowness towards his daughter and put out a firm hand to hold her down in her chair. “Goodnight, my child!” he murmured, as he stooped and kissed her on the forehead. “Do what you can for us.” His accent in these words was pathetic; but his air as he led the way to the door was one of infinite cunning.
As soon as he was left alone with the Lady Eva, Jeremy, who had been staring out into the invisible garden, turned reluctantly around and faced her, in an attitude of defense. She came to him at once, and, kneeling on the great chair beside him, threw her arms around his neck.
“My dear,” she said brokenly and passionately, “don’t—don’t look at me like that!”
His obstinacy and resentment melted suddenly away as he responded to the caress. “Eva!” he muttered, “I thought ... I was afraid you were ... you wanted....”
“You looked at me as though you hated me,” she said.
He comforted her in silence for some time and she clung to him. Then he thought he heard her whispering something. “What is it?” he asked gently.
“I am so afraid, Jeremy,” she repeated, in a voice that was still almost inaudible; and as he did not answer she went on a little more loudly, “You know, I dreaded something ... this afternoon ... and this must be it.” Still he said nothing; and after a pause she resumed: “Nobody but you can save us, Jeremy. I am certain of it—you are so wonderful, you know so much of what happened in the old times. Weren’t you sent here by the Blessed Virgin to save us? I know why you don’t want to—but it will be all right. Oh, Jeremy, it will!”
A great wave of hopelessness came over him and, when he tried to speak, choked his utterance. He could only shake his head miserably. Suddenly the Lady Eva let fall her arms from his neck and sank down in a heap on the chair. He realized with an unbearable pang that she was sobbing wildly.
“Eva! Eva!” he cried hopelessly, trying to gather her to him again. But she drew herself away and continued to sob, breathing shortly and spasmodically. He felt afraid of her. Then she rose and with a last jerky sigh gave herself into his arms. He felt her body, slight and yielding, yet strong and supple, in his embrace, and he began to grow dizzy. Her face was wet and her mouth was loose and hot beneath his.
“Eva!” he murmured, torn and wretched, with a sense of ineluctable doom stealing upon them. He looked up over her head and saw that in the garden the lawns and flowers were now growing distinct in a hard, clear, cold light. A chilly breath came in at the window, and all at once the birds began drowsily to wake and chatter. Inside the room all the candles were out but one, that still burnt on, though sickly and near its end. The light seemed to Jeremy to be coming as fast and as inevitably as the surrender which he could no longer escape. “Don’t, dear,” he uttered hoarsely. “Don’t, don’t! I’ll do what they want me to do. I’ll go and tell your father now.”