begun before this to suspect the true state of my heart, and the bitter consciousness made me wary. Words I had no right to speak rose to my tongue; emotions I had no right to feel were throbbing at my heart; tears which would not have started if Adam had been dying, gushed up and choked me while Edward held my hand to say good-by.
So many years as I had known him! Such pleasant talks as we had had together! How could I spare him? Perhaps he might not live to come back! Never had I known such a friend before, never should I find such another. It was dreadful that he was going, and I dared not tell him I was sorry.
"Not one word for me?" said he, sadly. "Only say 'God speed,' my friend!"
My lips moved. He must have seen I could not speak. I tore my hands from his and rushed out of the room; that was our parting.
The summer passed on—or they called it summer. I tried to do my duty, and hoped that sometime my mind would "settle down into quietness." I worked in the kitchen and I worked for the soldiers. Miram's mother held me up as a model. But always underlying everything else was the thought, "Why can't I die?"
They said Dr. Hathaway was engaged to Miriam. It was no concern of mine, but she was too shallow for Friend Edward. I had my own private thoughts as to what might have been, but I dared not think them. And as for the chain which bound me to Adam, I never dreamed of starting one of its iron links. Hadn't my word been passed? My word!
Adam had not enlisted yet; was waiting for his company. His letters to me were well enough, but I had no patience to read them. Yet all the while I listened greedily to every stray word from Dr. Hathaway. He was throwing his whole soul into the work. Everybody in town missed the good doctor—Cousin Sophia by no means least.
One evening, as I walked home from a sewing-circle, whom should I meet in my very path but Adam Mott? "Why, where in the world did thee come from?" I cried with more surprise than delight.
He seemed so glad to see me that my heart smote me for my coldness.
"When is thy company to start?"
"They started two weeks ago. Thee will be the last to blame me. Eve. I hadn't the courage to leave thee!"
"What does thee say, Adam?"
"I've been longing so for another sight of thy sweet face, Eve."
"Adam," said I, coldly, "thee hasn't given up enlisting?"
"Well, yes. Eve, the truth is, my love for thee stands in the way."
"Indeed," cried I, "it shall do so no longer! Where is thy patriotism, Adam?"
"Don't be hard on me. Eve!"
"Thee might know, Adam," cried I, throwing off all restraint, "that all I ever liked in thee was thy patriotism! If thee hasn't that, thee has very little to recommend thee!"
Adam winced.
"Perhaps, Eve, I may have obtained clearer views of duty."
"Don't talk nonsense, Adam! Thee knows what my temper is!"
"Why, Eve, a man may change his mind, I hope!"
