The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-09-23

now, fell from her as a garment. A strange
sense OF unreaiity bore her up into that
region Of calm which dominates emotion.
the clear air is calm above the storm
clouds. She moved toward the girl with
unfaltering step.
And is this Eva?' she said. and her
voice did not fail her now. Eva" DWELL
ing ingeringiy on the name. am -
This lady" Penrose interposed. hastily.
this lady is -
But she continued. ignoring the interrupt
tion A friend of your mothers, dear
Evar'
"A friend OF my mothers? OH Eva's
gentle face famed with color. lovely
light ieapt in her eyes, as both her little.
hands went out eagerly to meet the strang-
er's clasp. II am SO glad. It's the first
time I've ever seen any of mammals
friends."
The lady's lips were somewhat stiff as she
framed them into smiling response to the
girhsh greeting. She controlled herself
marvelously, though her voice trembied
just little as she said: "will you kiss me,
Eva?''
Eva willingly lifted her face and warmly
gave the kiss. but how cold were the lips
that returned it, Remembering the duties
of hospitality in which she thought her
father for once somewhat remiss (but no
doubt he was little startled and agitated
by the unexpected sight of her mothers
friend. whose appearance must recall dear
and sacred memories), she drew the visitor
to the most comfortable chair and took a
low seat beside her, smiling up in her face.
Penrose looked on in an agony of appre-
hension. Could mortal woman command
herself? But Leonie had passed through
the furnace that tempers the steel More
over, she was unable to grasp the reality
of the position. 1t seemed to her a dream
that the child's eyes were looking into hers,
the childs hand with shy girlish demon
stration seeking her clasp; a dream that
the baby she had left on the other side of
CHASTITY gulf of years was this fair girl
in the dawn of womanhood to-day. Yes,
Ii was all like dream-yet heaven help
her if she should wake,
Am ] like mamma?" asked Eva, softly
mo, you more like your father,
think-onIy so much fairer"
WAS mamma fair?'
''She was rather fair when she was your
age. Eva is generally thought like you, is
she not?' she added. addressing Penrose.
with challenge in her eyes to him TO
emulate her calmness.
Yes, she is considered like me-" he re-
piled, unsteadily.
Poor darling papa" thought Eva. with
rush of tenderness melting her heart
| How deeply he must have loved her
| mother. He could not even now bear any
| allusion TO her. They must not talk of her
before him; yet oh. she was longing to talk
| about her, TO ask about her, This friend
and contemporary of hers could doubt
| give those "reminiscences those little de-
| tails of the unknown mother for which the
| daughters heart had always yearned. But
| for the present, before her father, she must
| restrain her longing.
| Penrose was on the rack as he listened
| to the innocent chat with which Eva strove
| to make the stranger feel welcome, her
| questions as to where she was staying,
| and when did she come. and so on. Leonie's
| answers were discreet and noncommittal
| but he dared not leave the two alone. He
| presently reminded Eva, with what seemed
| TO her failing in his usual tactful hospi-
| tally, that it was time to go and dress;
but Eva would not part with her new
| found friend until an arrangement had
been made for them to meet next day
Mrs White" as she gave her name, was
| to come to the Penroses: he thought II
safer to have her under his own roof, his
own eyes. than let Eva go to her.
What pitfalls of dangerous disclosure lay
| in the path along which Eva would tread
| recklessly in her girlish eagerness and
| curiosity! He dared not trust her away
| from him, tete-a-tete with Leonie.
Papa, darling, are you not well?" asked
| Eva, the next morning.
quite well, child. Why?'
at thought you looked as if you had not
slept WE'LL
'True. did not Sleep"
Eva looked at him anxiously How bag
gard and worn his face looked. and how
| grey he was getting, Could it be only hel
fancy that his hair was much greyer thar
it was yesterday.
HAS your heart been bad?" she asked
nesting to his side, for once or twice h,
had had signs of weakness of the heart
and Eva knew this, though she did no
know how seriously. the doctor though
of 1t.
mo, childie. no. my heart is all right"
To Evas eagerness the hours seemed t.
crawl until that appointed for Mrs
White" to come. She thought the morn
ing would never pass!
Now we will have a nice nice. long aft
ernoon's talk" she said gladly, holding
Mrs. Whites hand and looking affection
ately In her face. It was a face that ha,
been beautiful. and would have been fai
in its autumnal lovliness still, if trouble
had not craven on II deeper lines thar
time. But though her beauty was thinl
of the past. she still retained her grace
her charm of voice and of manner; her rar
smile was sweet. her grey eyes lovely il
their tenderness and depth, a depth as o
some unfathomable grief They were thos
| haunted eyes that we sometimes meet
which seem for ever to see following besid
their path ghost, to which our sight /
| sealed.
Eva's whole mind was possessed by he
new friend. II would have seemed t
strangers a perfect infatuation she con
ceived for the woman she had seer for tn
first time but yesterday. 1t was not onl
her longing TO hear of her mother. bu
| something I'm Mrs. Whites" personalit.
| fairly fascinated her. Penrose noted tn
| attroctfor with a chill sinking Of appre