The young doctor had drawn Eva’s small hand within his arm, and as they slowly paced the broad, secluded walk, he pressed her arm close to his heart, murmuring:
“You received my letter, little Eva?”
“What letter?”
“The one I wrote from Parkersburg the day after I went away.”
“Then you wrote to me? I did not receive it,” she answered, quickly remembering how she had secretly longed for a letter, and felt disappointed because she had failed to receive it.
“That is very strange. I wrote you a long letter and addressed it to the hospital, Drawer H, as is usual. It must have miscarried, or—been intercepted,” exclaimed Doctor Rupert, wondering if he had a rival for Eva’s affection in the place, not dreaming of the superintendent’s admiration for the lovely girl.
“I received the bonbons only—oh, how sorry I am that I missed the letter! Now, Doctor Rupert, you must begin and tell me every word that was in it,” cried Eva radiantly, her eyes beaming with pleasure as she lifted them innocently to his handsome face.
Doctor Rupert smiled tenderly down into the eager face, and answered softly:
“I shall be very glad to tell you in a few words the subject of my long letter. Much has been written on that subject, and the same story has been told by many lips and eyes, but three words will comprise it all—I love you.”
Little Eva started tremulously, but her dark eyes clung to his face without faltering as he paused and continued passionately: