“You are uneasy over Mr. Hamilton’s fate. Do not borrow trouble before it comes halfway to meet you. It is very probable that the horses have been stopped ere now, and no doubt he is safe. It is always better to sit still during a runaway than to spring out. You acted imprudently, and might have been killed.”
“I should not have cared!” she half sobbed under her breath, and the grave dark-blue eyes looked at her in frank surprise.
“Those are strange words from you, Miss Somerville. You have everything—youth, beauty, wealth, and love to make you desire life,” he replied gently.
It was on her lips to cry out to him that he was mistaken about the love. She did not know that Doctor Ludington believed her engaged to be married to Reginald Hamilton, according to the gossip of the world.
She did not dream that a jealousy as cruel as death was tugging at his heart, as he thought of her belonging to another.
The latent feeling he believed to be dead, slain by time and despair, had suddenly flamed into passionate life again.
Masking his feelings under a calm and cold exterior, he did not permit Eva to suspect them, and her swift glance at his handsome face showed it so well under guard that she felt, with a sudden treacherous sinking of the heart, that he despised her now.
It had never occurred to her before that he could forget any more than herself their brief, broken love dream.
Somehow it made her pain more cruel to feel that he loved her no longer; that he had broken loose from the shackles of their hopeless love. It might be selfish, but she could not help it any more than she could help living.
It struck her speechless, the pain of it, and she could find no words to answer him. So keen was the pang that consciousness deserted her again.