“Eva,” he remonstrated, following her to the door, for she seemed about to leave them; “I will not accept this sacrifice; I refuse to be set free,” but she only smiled at him.
“Go to her, Erle,” she whispered, “she is worthy even of you; I would not marry you now even if she refused you, but”—with a look of irrepressible tenderness—“she will not refuse you;” and before he could answer her she was gone.
And Fern, looking at them through a sudden mist, tried to follow Evelyn, but either she stumbled or her strength forsook her. But all at once she found herself in Erle’s arms, and pressed closely to him.
“Did you hear her, my darling?” he said, as the fair head drooped on his shoulder; “she has given us to each other—she has set me free to love you. Oh, Fern, I tried so hard to do my duty to her; she was good and true, and I was fond of her—I think she is the noblest woman on God’s earth—but it was you I loved, and she found out I was miserable, and now she refuses to marry me; and—and—will you not say one word to me, my dearest?”
How was she to speak to him when her heart was breaking with happiness—when her tears were falling so fast that Erle had to kiss them away. Could it be true that he was really beside her; that out of the mist and gloom her prince had come to her; that the words she had pined to hear from his lips were now caressing her ear.
But Evelyn went up to her room.
It is not ordained in this life that saints and martyrs should walk the earth with a visible halo round their heads; yet, when such women as Margaret Ferrers and Evelyn Selby go on their weary way silently and uncomplaining, surely their guardian angel carries an unseen nimbus with which to crown them in another world.
CHAPTER XL.
AUNT JEANIE’S GUEST.
The cooing babe a veil supplied,
And if she listened none might know,