Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 December 1898 — EVE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

EVE

By-S.BARING-GOULD.

CHAPTER V. Barbara Jordan sat by the sick man with her knitting on her lap, and her eyes fixed on his face. He was breathing calmly; danger was over. Barbara watched the sleeper with undivided attention as though trying to read the answer to a question which puzzled her. Barbara rose from her seat and went to a carved oak box that stood against the wall. She raised the lid and looked in. There lay, neatly folded, the contents of Jasper’s bundle, a coarse gray and yellow suit —a suit so peculiar ip cut and color that there was no mistaking whence it had come, and what he was who bpd worn it. Barbara found it hard to associate such ft face with crime, and yet how else could she account for that convict garb rolled up and strapped to his saddle, and which she had laid in the trunk? Prisoners escaped now and again from the great jail on Dartmoor. This was one of them. As she sat watching him, puzzling her mind over this, his eyes opened, and he smiled. The smile was remarkably sweet. “Where am I now?” he asked. “At Morwell House.”

He closed his eyes. His face was very pale, like marble, but not like marble in fhis, that across it traveled changes pf expression that stirred the mpscles, Dp tvhat she would, Barbara could pot keep jier eyes off hipp. The horrible jpystery fibout the man, the lie giyep tp frer thoughts pf hina *by his face, fprcpfl her to observe hipir Presently he openefl his eyes, pnd mpt hers; she recoiled as if smitten with a guilty feeling at her heart, ”Yop haye always beep with me while I was pncpnscious anfl rambling," he said earnestly, “I have beep a great deal with yop, You have pot beep neglected,” He rose on his elbow, and held opt his hand, “I know that I owe my life to you, young lady. Allow me to thank you. My life is of no value to any but myself. I have not hitherto regarded it much. Now I shall esteem it, as saved by you. I thank you. May I touch your hand?” He took her fingers and put them to his lips. “This hand is firm and strong,” he said “but gentle as the wing of a dove.” She coldly withdrew her fingers. “Enough of thanks,” she said bluntly. “I did but my duty.” “Excuse me. Where am I now? And, ypupg lady, if you will not think it rude of me to inquire, who are you to whom I pwe my poor life?” “This, as I have already said, is Morwell, and I am the daughter of the gentleman who resides in it, Mr. Ignatius Jordan.” He fell back on the bed, a deadly graypess camp over his face, he raised his (lands, . “Qh, hpayen! this is most wonderful. Thy ways are past finding out.” “What is wonderful?” asked Barbara.

He did not answer, but partially raised liimself again ip bed. “Where are my clothes?” he asked. “Which clothes?” inquired Barbara, and her voice was hard, and hpr expressiop became stern. She hesitated for a moment, then went tp the chest apd drpw forth the suit that had beep rolled up on the pommel of the saddle; also that which he had worn when he met with the accidept. She held one in each hand, and returned to the bed. < “Which?” she asked gravely, fixing her eyes on him. He looked from one to the other, and his pale face turned a , chalky white. Then he said in a low, tremulous tone, “I want my waistcoat.” She gave it to him. He felt eagerly about it, drew the pocketbook from the breast pocket, opened it and fell back. “Gone!” he moaned, “gone!” The garment dropped from his fingers upon the floor, his eyes became glassy and fixed, and scarlpt spots of color formed in his cheeks. After this he became feverish, and tossed in his bed, put his hand to his brow, plucked at the bandages, asked fpr water, and his pulse quickened. Toward evening he seemed conscious that his senses were slipping beyond control. He called repeatedly for the young lady, and Jane, who attended him then, was obliged to fetch Barbara.

He lifted himself. His eyes were glowing with fever; he put opt his band and clasped her wrist; his hand was burning. His lips quivered; his face was full of a fiery eagerness. “I entreat you! you are so good, so kind! You have surprised a secret. I beseech you let no one else into it—no one have a suspicion of it. lam afraid what I may say when others are by me. I would go on my knees to you could I rise. I pray you, I pray you ”he put his hands together, “do not leave me if I become delirious. It is a hard thing to ask. I have no claipi on you; but J fear. I would have none but you know what I say, and I may say strange things if my mind becomes deranged with fever. Stay by me—in pity—ip mercy—fpr the love of heavep!” She stood by b’s befl, greatly moved, much stung with self-reproach. It was cruel of her to pet as she had done, to show hint that convict suit, and let him see that she knew his vileness. “Yes,” she said, “I will stay by you all night, and whatever passes your lips shall never pass mipe.” He smiled, apd gave a sigh of relief. “How good you are! How good! Barbara Jordan,” He did not call her Miss, and she felt slightly piqued, He, a convict, to speak of her thus! But she pacified her wounded pride with thp consideration that his mind was disturbed by fever.

CHAPTER VI. Barbara had passed her word to remain all night with the sick man, should he prove delirious, She saw him pass from vexing dreams into placid sleep. Towards dawn his eyes opened, and there was no more vacancy and fire in them. She wept to the bedside and said gently, “You are better.” “Thank you,” he answered. “I have given you much trouble.” A question trembled on Barbara’s lips. Sho longed to ask him something about himself, to know the truth, to have that horrible enigma solved, She leaned her hand on the back of the chair. “It is right that I should know for certain what, you are,” She halted, "Is that convict garment yours?” He turned away his face sharply. His breast heaved and his whole body shook, the very bed quivered with bis suppressed emotions. His large eyes, sunken and lustrous, met hers, and he saw that tears were trembling on her lids. “The garment—the prison garment is mine,” “A packman came this way with his wares yesterday,” said Miss Jordan gravely. “Among other news he brought was this, that a convict had recently broken out from the prison at Prince’s Town on Dartmoor, and was thought to have escaped off the moor. You are safe here; your secret remains here”—she touched her breast. “My father, my sister, none of the maids suspect anything. Never let us allude to this matter again, and I hope that as soon as you are sufficiently recovered you will go your way.” The door opened gently and Eve appeared, fresh and lovely as a May blossom-

“Bab, dear sister,” said the young girl, “let me sit by him now. You must have a nap. You take everything upon you—you are tired. Why, Barbara, surely you have been crying?” “I—crying!” exclaimed the elder angrily. “What have I had to make me cry? No; I am tired, and my eyes burn.” Barbara left the room and shut the door behind her. In the early morning none of the servants could be spared to ait with the sick man. Eve went to the table and arranged a bunch of oxlipa, dripping with dew, in a glass of water. Presently she plucked timidly at the sheet. As he paid no attention she plucked again. He looked at her. The bright face, like an opening wild rose, was bending over him. “Will it disturb you greatly if I ask you a question?” He shook his head. “Who was that young man whom you called Martin?” He looked earnestly into her eyes, and the color mounted under the transparent skin of her throat, cheeks and brow, “Eve,” he said gravely, “have you ever been ill—cpt, wounded”—fie put out his band and lightly indicated her • heart—“therp?"

She shook her pretty head with a smile, ♦'Then thipk and ask pp more about Martin. He came to you put of darkness, he went from you into darkness. Put him utterly and forever out of your thoughts as you value your happiness,” As Jasper recovered, he saw less of the sisters. June had come, apd with it lovely weather, and with the lovely weather the haysel, Jasper drew in full draughts of the delicious air, leaning back on a bench, watching the trees, hearing the hum of the bees and the voices of the harvesters, pleasant and soft in the distance, as if the golden sun had subdued all the harshness in the tones of the rough voices. He was roused from his reverie by a man coming between him and the pretty garden picture that filled his eyes. He recognized the surgeon—Dr. Coyshe. “Good afternoon, patient!” said he cheerily; “doing well, thanks to my treatment.” “I am assured,” said Jasper, “that I am fallen into the best possible hands.” “Who assured you of that?” asked he, sharply; “Miss Eve or the other?” “I am assured by jny own experience of your skill.” Mr. Jordan from his study saw or heard the surgeon. He came t° bim into the garden.

“You see,” said Mr. Goyshe, pubbipg his hands, “I haye done wonders. This would have been a dead man but fpr rpe. What a very beautiful daughter you have got I One that is only to be seen in pictures. A man despairs of behplding such loyeliness in actual life, and spe, beep, at the limit qf the world, thp visiop flashes op ope! Not much like you, Squire; not much likp her sister; looks as if shp belonged tp another byepfl.” Jasper Babb Ippked foupfl startlpd at the audacity and rudeness pf tap surgeon. Mr. Jordan was pot offended; hp sppmed indeed flattered. He was very proqd pf Eve, “You are'right. My eldest daughter has almost nothing in common with her younger sister—only a half-sister.” “Really,” said Coyshe, “it makes me shiver for the future of that fairy being. I take it for granted she will be yoked to some county booby of a squire, a Bob Acres. What a prospect! A jewel of gold in a swine’s snout, as Solomon says.” “Eve shall never marry one unworthy of her,” said Ignatius Jordan vehemently. She will be able to afford to shape her future according to her fancy. She will be comfortably off. Seventeen years ago I lent fifteen hundred pounds, which is to be returned to me on Midsummer day. To that I can add about five hundred.” “You have two daughters.” “Oh, yes, there is Barbara,” said Jordan in a tone of indifference. “If course, she will have something, but then—she can always manage for herself—with the other it is different.” “Are you ill?” asked Coyshe, suddenly, observing that Jasper had turned very pale, and dark under tap eyes. “Is the aiy too strong fpr you?” “No, let me remain here. The sup (joes me good.” “When did Miss Eve’s mother die?” ask: ed Coyshe abruptly. Mr. Jordan started. “Did I say she was dead? Did I mention her?”

Coyshe mused, put his hand through his hair and ruffled it up. “Now tell me, squire, are you sure of your money? What are your securities?” “The best. The word of an honorable man. He offered me a mortgage, but it never came.” “If you see the shine of that money again, you are lucky.” Then looking at Jasper: “My patient is upset again—l thought the air was too strong for him. He must be carried in. He is going into a fit.” Jasper was leaning back against (he wall, with distended eyes, and hands and teeth clenched as w-ith a spasm. “No,” said Jasper faintly, “I am not in a fit.” At that moment Barbara came out, and at once noticed the condition of the convalescent. “Here,” said she, “lean op me as you did coming out, This has been too much for you. Will you help me, Doctor?” “Thank you,’’ said Jasper. “If Miss Joradan will suffer mp to rest on hey arpa, I will returp to my room.” When he was back in his armchair-anfl the little room he had occupied, Barbara looked earnestly in his face and said, “What has troubled yop? I am sure something has.”

“I am very unhappy,” he answered, "but you must ask me no questions,” The slight disturbance had not altered the bent of Mr- Jordan’s thoughts, When Mr. Coyshe rejoined him he said, "I cannot believe that I ran any risk with the money. The man to whom I lent it is honorable, Besides, I have his note of hand acknowledging the debt.” Just then Coyshe’s eyes fell on something that lay under the seat. "What is that? Have you dropped a pocketbook?” A rough, large leather pocketbook that was to which he pointed. Mr. Jordan stooped and took it up. He examined it attentively and uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Well,” said the surgeon, mockingly; "is the money come, dropped from the clouds at your feet?” "No,” answered Mr. Jordan, under his breath, "but this is most extraordinary, most mysterious! .How comes this case here? It is the very same which I handed over, filled with notes, to that man seventeen years ago! Sect there are my initials op it; there on the shield is my crest. How comes it here?” “The question, my dear sir, is not how comes it here? But what does it contain?” "Nothing.” The surgeon put his hands in his pockets, screwed up his lips for a whistle, and said, "I foretold this; I am always right.” “The money is not due till Midsummer day,” "Nor will come till the Greek kalends. Poor Miss Eve!” (To be continued.)