“You have no right to put such a question,” he returned, angrily. “You have no right to doubt me. I have not deserved this, Eva.”
“No right!” and now her face grew paler. “I think I have the right, Erle. You do not wish to answer the question; that is because some one has come between us. It is true, then, that there is some one dearer to you than I am?”
He hid his face in his hands. No, he could not lie to her. Was not Fay’s miserable exile a warning to him against marriage without confidence. He would have spared her if he could, but her love was too keen-eyed. He could not take her hand and perjure his soul with a lie; he loved her, but he could not tell her that she was the dearest thing in the world to him.
It all came out presently. He never knew how he told it, but the sad little story of his love for Fern Trafford got itself told at last. Poor Erle, he whose heart was so pitiful that he forbore to tread on the insect in his path, now found himself compelled to hurt—perhaps wound fatally—the girl who had given him her heart.
Evelyn heard him silently to the end. The small white hands were crushed together in her lap, and her face grew white and set as she listened; but when he had finished, and sat there looking so downcast, so ashamed, so unlike himself, her clear, unfaltering voice made him raise his eyes in astonishment. “I thank you for this confidence; if—if—” and here her lips quivered, “we had been married, and you had told me then, I think it would have broken my heart; but now—it is better now.”
“And you can forgive me, dear; you can be sorry for me? Oh, Eva! if you will only trust me, all may yet be well. I shall be happier now you know the truth.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she answered, quickly; “it is no fault of yours, my poor Erle, and you were always good to me—no,” as he tried to interrupt her, “we will not talk of it any more to-day; my head aches, and of course it has upset me. I want to think over what you have said. It seems”—and here she caught her breath—“as though I can hardly believe it. Will you go away now, dear, and come to me to-morrow? To-morrow we shall see how far we can trust each other.”
“I must go away if you send me,” he answered, humbly; and then he got up and walked to the door. He had never felt more wretched in his life. She had not reproached him, but all the color and life had gone out of her face. She had spoken so mildly, so gently to him. Would she forgive him, and would everything be as though this had never happened? “Oh, Erle, will you not wish me good-bye?” and then for a moment the poor girl felt as though her heart were breaking. Was she nothing to him after all?
At her words Erle quickly retraced his steps. “Forgive me, Eva,” he said, and there were tears in his eyes; “I am not myself, you know; all this takes it out of a man.” And then he stooped over her as though to take her in his arms.
For an instant she shrunk from him; then she lifted up her face and kissed him. “Good-bye, Erle,” she said, “good-bye, my darling. No one will ever love you as I have loved you.” And then, as he looked at her wistfully, she released herself and quietly left the room, and no one saw Evelyn Selby again that night.