I was shown into a large, stately drawing-room. Great portraits were on the walls, there was massive furniture, fine oriental rugs. A fire blazed on the hearth.
Then I perceived it—the great bowl of roses with fallen petals—scattered over the table
Like a knife they went through my soul——
Rose petals——
Eve—the ring she had returned, which lay in some dark recess of my desk——
The door opened and a tall slim girl advanced—
Eve I cried—my eyes blurred till I could hardly see.
With a strange, somewhat strained laugh, the girl replied that she had not been named for her mother, but it was often said that she was indeed her mother's living portrait.
Then she drew aside a heavy curtain—Before my dimmed eyes was a picture of Eve—
My Eve—