“Yes, miss, a note. Daisy talked it ower wi’ me, and I said as you ought to see it; and even if it hurts you sore, I felt I must gi’e it to you, and theer it is.”
Eve felt the paper, and was aware of the fact that her visitor had scrambled over the wall, and was gone, and still she stood clutching the paper tightly, till a voice made her start, and thrust the paper into her bosom.
“Eve, my child, it is damp and late.”
It was Mrs Glaire calling, and, picking up her presents, Eve slowly went up the garden, feeling like one in a dream, till she entered through the open window, where Mrs Glaire was waiting.
“Why, you are quite cold, my child,” said Mrs Glaire, tenderly, as she closed the windows, and led the trembling girl to an easy chair by the tea-table, the shaded lamp shedding a pleasant glow upon the steaming urn.
“It is getting cold, aunt,” said Eve, with a shiver; and she drank the tea poured ready for her with avidity.
“More presents, my darling?” said Mrs Glaire, leaning over and kissing her. “Eve, child, you are making me very happy.”
Eve’s arms were flung round her neck, and she sobbed there in silence for a few moments.
“Don’t cry, my darling; try and think it is for the best. It is—you know it is, and the past must all be forgotten. But where is Dick? He must be buying presents, or arranging something, or he would be here,” she said, cheerfully. “By the way, Eve, what are those? Did Richard send them?”
“No, aunt,” said Eve, hoarsely; “they are from Mr Selwood.”