Eve. Baring-Gould Sabine

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СКАЧАТЬ woman’s soul; and poor Barbara, against her judgment, felt that every gentle vein in her heart was oozing with pity, love, solicitude, mercy, faith and hope. What eyes that Jasper had! so gentle, soft, and truthful. Could treachery, cruelty, dishonesty lurk beneath them?

      A question trembled on Barbara’s lips. She 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, and put the other to her lips.

      ‘What is it?’ he asked suddenly.

      She started. He had read her thoughts. Her eyes met his, and, as they met, her eyes answered and said, ‘Yes, there is a certain matter. I cannot rest till I know.’

      ‘I am sure,’ he said, ‘there is something you wish to say, but are afraid lest you should excite me.’

      She was silent.

      ‘I am better now; the wind blows cool over me, and the morning light refreshes me. Do not be afraid. Speak.’

      She hesitated.

      ‘Speak,’ he said. ‘I am fully conscious and self-possessed now.’

      ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘It is right that I should know for certain what you are.’ She halted. She shrank from the question. He remained waiting. Then she asked with a trembling voice, ‘Is that convict garment yours?’

      He turned away his face sharply.

      She waited for the answer. He did not reply. His breast heaved and his whole body shook, the very bed quivered with suppressed emotion.

      ‘Do not be afraid,’ she said, in measured tones. ‘I will not betray you. I have nursed you and fed you, and bathed your head. No, never! never! whatever your crime may have been, will I betray you. No one in the house suspects. No eyes but mine have seen that garment. Do not mistrust me; not by word or look will I divulge the secret, but I must know all.’

      Still he did not reply. His face was turned away, but she saw the working of the muscles of his cheek-bone, and the throb of the great vein in his temple. Barbara felt a flutter of compunction in her heart. She had again overagitated this unhappy man when he was not in a condition to bear it. She knew she had acted precipitately, unfairly, but the suspense had become to her unendurable.

      ‘I have done wrong to ask the question,’ she said.

      ‘No,’ he answered, and looked at her. His large eyes, sunken and lustrous with sickness, met hers, and he saw that tears were trembling on her lids.

      ‘No,’ he said, ‘you did right to ask;’ then paused. ‘The garment – the prison garment is mine.’

      A catch in Barbara’s breath; she turned her head hastily and walked towards the door. Near the door stood the oak chest carved with the eagle-headed man. She stooped, threw it open, caught up the convict clothes, rolled them together, and ran up into the attic, where she secreted them in a place none but herself would be likely to look into.

      A moment after she reappeared, composed.

      ‘A packman came this way with his wares yesterday,’ said Miss Jordan gravely. ‘Amongst 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.’ He listened and made no answer, but sighed heavily. ‘You are safe here,’ she said; ‘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.’

      ‘Then close them and sleep for a couple of hours.’

      Barbara left the room and shut the door behind her. In the early morning none of the servants could be spared to sit with the sick man.

      Eve went to the table and arranged a bunch of oxlips, dripping with dew, in a glass of water.

      ‘How sweet they are!’ she said, smiling. ‘Smell them, they will do you good. These are of the old monks’ planting; they grow in abundance in the orchard, but nowhere else. The oxlips and the orchis suit together perfectly. If the oxlip had been a little more yellow and the orchis a little more purple, they would have made an ill-assorted posy.’

      Jasper looked at the flowers, then at her.

      ‘Are you her sister?’

      ‘What, Barbara’s sister?’

      ‘Yes, her name is Barbara.’

      ‘Of course I am.’

      He looked at Eve. He could trace in her no likeness to her sister. Involuntarily he said, ‘You are very beautiful.’

      She coloured – with pleasure. Twice within a few days the same compliment had been paid her.

      ‘What is your name, young lady?’

      ‘My name is Eve.’

      ‘Eve!’ repeated Jasper. ‘How strange!’

      Twice also, within a few days, had this remark been passed on her name.

      ‘Why should it be strange?’

      ‘Because that was also the name of my mother and of my sister.’

      ‘Is your mother alive?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘And your sister?’

      ‘I do not know. I remember her only faintly, and my father never speaks of her.’ Then he changed the subject. ‘You are very unlike Miss Barbara. I should not have supposed you were sisters.’

      ‘We are half-sisters. We had not the same mother.’

      He was exhausted with speaking, and turned towards the wall. Eve seated herself in the chair vacated by Barbara. She occupied her fingers with making a cowslip ball, and when it was made she tossed it. Then, as he moved, she feared that she disturbed him, so she put the ball on the table, from which, however, it rolled off.

      Jasper turned as she was groping for it.

      ‘Do I trouble you?’ she said. ‘Honour bright, I will sit quiet.’

      How beautiful she looked with her chestnut hair; how delicate and pearly was her lovely neck; what sweet eyes were hers, blue as a heaven full of sunshine!

      ‘Have you sat much with me, Miss Eve, whilst I have been ill?’

      ‘Not much; my sister would not suffer me. I am such a fidget that she thought I might irritate you; such a giddypate that I might forget your draughts and compresses. Barbara is one of those people who do all things themselves, and rely on no one else.’

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