“‘The child is an idiot, doctor!’ she said.
“A shriek answered her. Eva started up as if she had received a blow; and seizing her son, whom she pressed convulsively to her breast—
“‘Idiot!’ she exclaimed, her indignant glance flashing, for the first time, with a vivid brilliance; ‘idiot!’ she repeated, ‘because he has been unhappy all his life, because he has seen but tears since his eyes first opened! because he knows not how to play like your son, who has always had joy around him! Ah! madam, you insult misfortune! Come, my child!’ cried Eva, all in tears. ‘Come, let us leave these pitiless hearts, that find none but cruel words to console our misery!’
“And the unhappy mother carried off her boy to her apartment. I followed. She set William down, and knelt before the little child. ‘My son! my son!’ she cried.
“William went close to her, and rested his head on his mother’s shoulder.
“‘Doctor!’ cried Eva, ‘he loves me—you see he does! He comes when I call him; he kisses me! His caresses have sufficed for my tranquillity—for my sad happiness! My God! was it not then enough? Speak to me, my son; reassure me! Find a consoling word, a single word for your despairing mother! Till now I have asked nothing of you but to remind me of your father, and leave me silence to weep. To-day, William, you must give me words! See you not my tears—my terror? Dear child, so beautiful, so like your father, speak, speak to me!’
“Alas! alas! the child remained motionless, without sign of fear or intelligence; a smile only, a smile horrible to behold, flitted across his features. Eva hid her face in both hands, and remained kneeling upon the ground. For a long time no noise was heard save the sound of her sobs. Then I prayed heaven to inspire me with consoling thoughts, such as might give a ray of hope to this poor mother. I spoke of the future, of expected cure, of change possible—even probable. But hope is no friend to falsehood. Where she does not exist her phantom cannot penetrate. A terrible blow, a mortal one, had been struck, and Eva Meredith saw all the truth.
“From that day forwards, only one child was to be seen each morning in Lord James Kysington’s room. Two women came thither, but only one of them seemed to live—the other was silent as the tomb. One said, ‘My son!’ the other never spoke of her child; one carried her head high, the other bowed hers upon her breast, the better to hide her tears; one was blooming and brilliant, the other pale and a mourner. The struggle was at an end. Lady Mary triumphed. It was cruel how they let Harry play before Eva Meredith’s eyes. Careless of her anguish, they brought him to repeat his lessons in his uncle’s presence; they vaunted his progress. The ambitious mother calculated everything to consolidate her success; and, whilst abounding in honeyed words and feigned consolation, she tortured Eva Meredith’s heart each moment in the day. Lord James, smitten in his dearest hopes, had resumed the cold impassibility which I now saw formed the foundation of his character. Strictly courteous to his daughter-in-law, he had no word of affection for her: only as the mother of his grandson could the daughter of the American planter find a place in his heart. And he considered the child as no longer in existence. Lord James Kysington was more gloomy and taciturn than ever, regretting, perhaps, to have yielded to my importunities, and to have ruffled his old age by a painful and profitless emotion.
“A year elapsed; then a sad day came, when Lord James sent for Eva Meredith, and signed to her to be seated beside his arm-chair.