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Shall I confess that I let several days go by, and still had not spoken to Eveleth, when, at the end of a long evening the last long evening we passed together she said: "What would you like to have me do with this house while we are gone?" "Do with this house?" I echoed; and I felt as if I were standing on the edge of an abyss. "Yes; shall we let it, or sell it or what? Or give it away?"
One was my son, at present an instructor in the Academy, and the other was E. Eveleth Winslow, of the corps of engineers, who had the honor of being graduated at the head of his class. During the course of the conversation I asked Captain Winslow whether he was a relative of the late Commodore John Ancrum Winslow, commander of the Kearsarge in her famous fight with the Alabama.
He had been very deferential to Miss Silence, and had wound himself into the confidence of Miss Badlam. He found it harder to establish any very near relations with Myrtle, who had never seemed to care much for any young man but Cyprian Eveleth, and to care for him quite as much as Olive's brother as for any personal reason.
Mr. Stoker. He spoke well of Cyprian Eveleth. A good young man, limited, but exemplary. Would succeed well as rector of a small parish. That required little talent, but a good deal of the humbler sort of virtue. As for himself, he confessed to ambition, yes, a great deal of ambition. A failing, he supposed, but not the worst of failings.
Eveleth could be heard coming slowly down the stairs. But before she had time to enter the room Derek Pruyn, using the privilege of a relative, walked in without announcement. If the morning had brought surprises to Miss Lucilla van Tromp, it had not denied them to the Marquis de Bienville. They were all the more astonishing in that they came out of a sky that was relatively clear.
Eveleth and Miss Lucilla had passed on their way up-stairs. This abandonment was so far outside the range of what she had considered possible that there seemed to be no avenues to her intelligence through which the conviction of it could be brought home. She gazed as though her own vision were at fault, as though her powers of comprehension had failed her.
Eveleth was scarcely thinking of Diane's words she was so intent on the poor little, tear-worn face before her. She had always known that Diane's attractions were those of coloring and vivacity, and now that she had lost these she was like an extinguished lamp. "I haven't made up my mind yet," Diane replied, "but I want you to know that you'll be freed from my presence."
In fact, people say that he used to be plain Peter B. Strange till he married Eveleth, and she made him drop the Peter and blossom out in the Bellington, so that he could seem to have a social as well as a financial history.
"There'll be very little left," she repeated. "But I don't understand," Diane protested, with a perplexed movement of the hand across her brow. "I don't know much about business, but if it were explained to me I think I could follow." "Come and sit beside me at the desk," Mrs. Eveleth suggested. "You will understand better if you see the figures just as they stand."
If you don't do it, they'll believe I drove George to his death they'll say I was such a woman that he killed himself rather than live with me any longer." Suddenly Mrs. Eveleth raised her head and looked round upon them all. Then she staggered to her feet. "Take me away!" she said, in a dead voice, to Lucilla van Tromp. "Help me! Take me away! I can't bear any more!"
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