Eve de la Tour d'Adam [pp. 366-379]

Eve de La Tour-d'Adam.
absolutely would have it that her illness had a mysterious origin.
The confessor was called, although
the governess hoped nothing from his
intervention. An emotion of profound
piety was painted on the features of
the man of God when he came out of
the invalid's chamber, but Eve, calm
and with pious recollection, was praying with her eyes raised to heaven.
The young girl made no confidence to
Mme. du Castellet, only several hours
later "Cousin," she said, "Mlle. Louise
de Mirefont and Gaston are slow in
coining to see me."
It was not the first time that Eve
had expressed the same desire; the
governess ordered the carriage in order to go for Mlle. de Mirefont.
"Louise, generous Louise," murmured Eve, "I would that my soul
could be blended with yours!"
Her heart beat violently as she
thought of Gaston's happiness; Eve
did not account to herself for her poigiant emotion, but she prayed that God
would permit her to live for her noble
grandfather.
"My loss would be too cruel for
him," she murmured, weeping.
Then she interrogated herself with
a simple severity:
"Would 1 then be culpable for not
speaking of that of which I am myself
ignorant?"
Her conscience responded by a firm
resolution not to carry trouble to the
hearts of all those who cherished her.
" My duty, I feel, is to rejoice at the
happiness of Gaston and of Louise.
Do I deceive myself? My God! enlighten me, guide me!"
Eve was kneeling; the Marquis de
La Tour-d'Adam, assisted by his valet,
entered, and in a reproachful tone "Why do you fatigue yourself
thus?" said he; "Eve, I implore
thee, be careful of thy strength, if only out of pity for me."
Eve arose with difficulty.
"Forgive me," she said with a sweet
smile," I will not kneel again until I
am cured."
Then she sat by her grandfather's
side. The marquis, frightened at her
mortal pallor, contemplated her with
anguish.
"I saw her father perish in the flower
of his agoe," he thought; "her mother
a few months after died in giving her
life; she was an orphan from her cradle. All my affections are concentrated in her; she has never given me
occasion for the least pain. Alas! I
suffer to-day for all the happiness she
has given me."
"Do not distress yourself, my father,"
said Eve, who surprised a tear in the
old man's dry eyes; "I have asked of
God to let me remain to console the
rest of your days; my prayer has
been heard, it will be granted. Oh,
for pity, do not cry more."
The marquis took her hand and
pressed it against his heart.
"My father," said Eve after several moments of silence, "our cousia
has gone for Gaston and his fiancee;
my father, I have a request to make of
you."
"Tell it, tell it," said the old man
ardently.
Eve bent, and said in a trembling
voice:
"They are both of them generous
and devoted; both of them have suffered much: make them rich, I implore
you, lest your wealth should pass into
avaricious hands."
"Oh! my God! you expect, then,
to die! Eve, my darling daughter, is
this your secret?"
"No! I do not wish to die! no! I
wish to live for you!"
"But I am old, very old!" the marquis replied, with hesitation, "andafter me-"
"After you whom shall I love?"
said Eve in a melodious voice. " Father, I implore you, make Gaston and
Louise's future sure, and you will have
crowned all my wishes."
Eve had scarcely finished when
Mme. du Castellet entered; Louise
and Gaston followed her. The two
lovers succeeded in wiping away their
tears, but their emotion was redoub
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