Is broken, by the welcome hand of death.”
And she accepted her fate, and she made the heroic resolve—cost what it might, she would see D’Arcy this evening, if but for five minutes. She would school her eyes to gaze calmly on those still beloved features. She would force herself to support the sight of those lover-like attentions which were not, which never could be for her. She would even be happy in the mutual happiness of those two dear ones. Did she, perchance, miscalculate her strength? For the present, at least, that trial was spared her. Just about the hour D’Arcy’s visit was expected, a telegraphic despatch arrived from Havre. It was handed to me by Evelyn to open and read. It ran thus:
“Pressing public business recalls me to America. I sail to-night. Will write from Cowes.
“Philip D’Arcy.”
A sigh of inexpressible relief burst from Evelyn’s overcharged bosom, as she murmured involuntarily, “Thank God.” Last evening, at the same hour had an event so unexpected occurred, how different would have been her feelings! Truly “we know not what a day may bring forth.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
CORRESPONDENCE
Two days and the promised letter arrived, the very superscription and seal proclaiming it the production of no ordinary writer. Opening the missive you at once remark the clear, decided, manly characters. No dashes, (impotent attempts of weakness to convey the idea of force), deface the spotless page; the style terse, and at the same time elegant, reveals the scholar and the gentleman. The signature, at once bold and distinct, has the characteristic finish, rather than flourish, which at once individualizes the writer. Truly there is more in an autograph than meets the eye of the casual observer. Give me a letter and I will undertake to designate the salient points in the character and disposition of its author. The epistle in question was addressed to Evelyn, and simply stated that public affairs having assumed a very serious aspect, he (D’Arcy), had received a mandate from an official personage, requesting his immediate presence at Washington, and offering him a responsible post under government. That in view of the present sad political difficulties which threatened his beloved country, he thought it his duty to tender his poor services to the nation. Though his affections, he added, were dear—most dear to him—still he felt that honor and duty must take precedence even of love. In conclusion he expressed the hope of a speedy return to Europe, but added that as his sweet Ella’s extreme youth rendered an immediate marriage unadvisable, he would wait with patience, convinced that every additional moment passed with her dear and valued mother, would be fraught with inestimable advantage to his young bride. Leaving her, therefore, to Evelyn, as a sacred charge, he invoked on the beloved heads of both a farewell blessing.
Such was D’Arcy’s first letter. Single hearted, true and noble, he framed no polite excuses for apparent neglect in not having called to bid them a personal adieu. He knew they would understand him, and he was right. It now appeared to me that there was a marked change in Evelyn. All her passionate love for D’Arcy seemed to have merged into a fond desire to educate Ella for him. She accepted the holy task he had confided to her, and made a firm resolve to devote her faculties wholly to the furtherance of his wishes. Thus, no longer living as before utterly in the self-hood, but rather seeking the good of others, she could not fail to bring a blessing on herself.