The vicar rose with the same stony look upon Iiis face; and, knowing what she did, Mrs Glaire’s heart bled for him, and the tears stole down her cheeks, as she caught his hand and pressed it, but he seemed to heed it not, for he was face to face with a great horror. He had told himself that he could master his passion, and that it was mastered; but now—now that he was told that the woman he dearly loved was to become the wife of another, and of such a man, he felt stunned and helpless, and could hardly contain his feelings as he turned and half staggered towards the door.
“Mr Selwood, you are shocked, you are startled,” cried Mrs Glaire, clinging to his hand. “You must not go like this.”
He turned to look at her with a sad smile, but he did not speak.
“Eve wishes to see you,” she faltered, hardly daring to say the words.
“To see me?” he cried hoarsely; and her words seemed to galvanise him into life. Then, to himself, “I could not bear it—I could not bear it.”
At that moment the door opened, and he made another effort over himself to regain his composure, as Eve came forward, holding out her hand, which he reverently kissed.
“Aunt has told you, Mr Selwood,” she said, in a low constrained tone.
“My child,” he said softly, and speaking as a father would to his offspring, “yes.”
She gave a sigh of relief, looking at his cold, sad face, as if she wished to read that which was written beneath a mask of stone.
“Aunt thinks it would be for the best,” she said, speaking slowly, and with a firmness she did not possess. “And it is to be soon.”