She had not tasted food since her supper the previous night at the asylum, and she was faint from fasting.
She went to the window, wondering if she would dare try to escape down the honeysuckle vine, but it had been cut down by her jealous cousins, who thought to thus circumvent her daring, unknown lover, if he ever returned. The window, too, was tightly nailed down, having been left to gloom and disuse since the night of the Hallowe’en tragedy.
The air was close and stifling, and full of dust motes, so she caught up a book and dashed it against a pane of glass, shattering it, and letting in a little of the fresh outer air of the morning.
She did not know that Nick observed her action, and reported at the first opportunity that “that poor crazy gal was goin’ on dretful, a-breakin’ out the panes of glass in the winder, and throwin’ out things to hit people.”
The last statement was pure romance, but it added to the interest of his story.
Then, as she sank wearily into a chair, Eva heard strange steps and voices going into Mr. Groves’ room. As they went in another terrifying sound came out to her ears, even through her own close-shut door—the loud, hoarse breathing of the dying man.
Eva was no stranger to death. She had seen her grandmother die. She knew the awful voice of the approaching destroyer.
“Gran’ther is dying—going away from his little Eva forever!” she burst out in anguish, and flew to the door, beating on it with frenzied little white hands, calling piteously:
“Let me out, let me out! Let me kiss gran’ther good-by!”
No one heeded or heard, and at length she comprehended the full heartlessness of her cousins, who would not even let her approach her grandfather’s deathbed and receive his blessing.