“You are——”
“Clyde Somerville, the deserted husband of poor, willful Nell, and father of little Eva—the wronged, unhappy girl!”
“Great heavens! The third installment of the tragedy!” exclaimed the startled reporter.
“Yes, and you may write it up for your paper if you choose,” was the answer. “You may say that I was parted from my beloved wife by the wicked machinations of my proud relations, and her loss has ever been a thorn that rankles ceaselessly within my heart. After she ran away I was a long time ill and helpless. When I grew better and was about to sacrifice pride to love, and follow her to her old home, begging her return, they wrote me she was dead, but naught of the child.”
“And little Eva?” asked the eager reporter.
“You may say that I left for Weston within the hour to claim my child!”
CHAPTER XXIV.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
It was enough to unbalance Eva’s mind again, the terrible shock of her interrupted marriage, declared all her friends. So they watched her anxiously to see how it would end—that terrible apathy of mind that settled on her after the first outbreak of frenzied despair, when she had rashly tried to end her fevered existence by swallowing poison.
Fortunately Doctor Bertrand had not left the house, and her vigorous dosing soon put the wretched girl out of danger, though her bitter reproaches were heart-rending.