Florence opened the door for them; she had told the servant to go to bed.
When Eva reached the door of her room she turned round to say good-night to her sister; but the latter, instead of contenting herself with a nod, as was her custom, came and kissed her on the face.
“I congratulate you on your dress and on your conquest,” and again she kissed her and was gone.
“It is not like Florence to be so kind,” reflected her younger sister. “I can’t remember when she kissed me last.”
Eva did not know that as there are some kisses that declare peace, and set the seal on love, there are others that announce war, and proclaim the hour of vengeance or treachery. Judas kissed his Master when he betrayed Him.
CHAPTER IX.
EVA FINDS SOMETHING
When Ernest woke on the morning after the ball it was ten o’clock, and he had a severe headache. This—the headache—was his first impression, but presently his eye fell upon a withering red rose that lay upon the dressing-table, and he smiled. Then followed reflections, those confounded reflections that always dog the heels of everything pleasant in life, and he ceased to smile.
In the end he yawned and got up. When he reached the sitting-room, which looked cool and pleasant in contrast to the hot July sunshine that beat upon the little patch of bare turf in front of the house, and the glittering sea beyond, he found that the others had done their breakfast. Jeremy had gone out, but his sister was there, looking a little pale, no doubt from the late hours of the previous night.
“Good-morning, Doll!”
“Good-morning, Ernest,” she answered, rather coldly. “I have been keeping your tea as warm as I can, but I’m afraid it is getting cold.”