He did not care—he was almost glad that she knew all. There had come upon him the recklessness that often arises out of hopelessness. If he must wear his chain, she should know what a heavy weight it was!
“Come in, Miss Hazleburn,” he said, rising excitedly; “I am not sorry that you have overheard me. Perhaps you will pity me a little. Surely you can spare a grain of compassion for the poor fool who has spoiled his own life! I think you will, for you are a good woman. Some women would glory in a conquest of this sort, but you are not of that number. Ah, I am talking nonsense, I suppose.”
Eve went straight up to him and laid her hand upon his arm. She could not pretend to have heard nothing, and she would not have told a lie if she could. Her light touch stopped him in his impatient walk up and down the little room.
“Think of your mother, Mr. Foster,” she said, softly. “She is not strong enough to bear a scene.”
He sat down again by the couch, and buried his face in the cushion on which Mrs. Foster’s head rested. It was a boyish action; but Eve knew that the best men in the world generally keep a touch of boyishness about them. Her heart ached for him as she stood looking down upon the bowed head. And then the mother’s glance met hers, and both women began to weep silently.
“I’m a foolish old body,” said poor Mrs. Foster. “It’s a mistake to go knocking at the door of any heart, even if it’s that of one’s child. I had better have held my tongue, and left all to God.”
“It is better as it is,” Morgan answered raising his head, and speaking more quietly. “I am less miserable than I was before. And Miss Hazleburn will understand,” he added, with a little pride, “that although I am an unhappy man, I don’t mean to be a traitor. I do not wish to recall anything I have said. Every word was true; and now that she knows all, she will pray for me.”
Eve stood before him and held out her hand.
“I am going now,” she said. “God bless you, Mr. Foster. You shall have all the blessings that my prayers can win for you; and the truest respect and friendship that a woman can give. Perhaps we shall never meet again. If we do, I think this scene will seem like a dream to us both.”
She went her way out of the shabby little house into the narrow street. Had God nothing better to give her than this? Had He shown her the beautiful land of Might-have-been only to send her back, doubly desolate, into the wilderness? These were the first rebellious questions that arose in Eve’s heart, and it was some time before they were answered.