Eveline Mandeville | Page 6

only that I fear your indignation
will betray me."
"Never fear; for once I will keep cool at all hazards."
"I make one solemn condition: you must never, under any
circumstances, reveal the name of your informant to either your
daughter or my enemy."
"Why this restriction?"
"I have already explained why as far as he is concerned."
"But Eveline?"
"Oh, I have a different reason for desiring her to be kept ignorant of my
connection with her friend's exposure,"--and as he said this, the fellow
actually blushed and seemed much embarrassed.

"I do not understand you."
"Well, you see this friend of hers--I must again ask pardon for
associating her name with his so frequently, be reassured I do it with
pain--as I have already remarked, has ingratiated himself into her good
opinion, and knowing me to be in the way of the accomplishment of his
wishes, he has prejudiced her against me, and done so in such a manner
as to induce the belief in her mind that I am his bitterest enemy, and
would use any means to do him an injury or blacken his character.
Hence, if she were to know that anything came through me, she would
at once set it down as false and slanderous, which would drive her
farther from me and nearer to the other, thereby hastening the very
calamity we would avert."
"I see you are right, having given more attention to the subject than I
have. I will never mention your name in connection with this matter, to
either my daughter or any other, without your permission."
"Thank you. Leaving all after action on your part to be as your
judgment shall dictate, I have nothing more left me to do in this trying
interview, than to reveal the name of the intriguer--it is Charles
Hadley."
"_Charles Hadley!_" exclaimed the father in astonishment.
"It is none other than he."
"I could hardly have believed it of him."
"Nor I. Such depth of depravity is truly inconceivable to an honorable
mind."
"I remember now, he has been somewhat familiar with Eveline; but I
had no idea the beggarly dog would dare think of marrying her. I must
see to this immediately."
"Remember to be cautious for my sake."

"Don't fear on that ground."
Thus the interview ended, Duffel having accomplished more by it than
he had expected. The more Mr. Mandeville thought on the subject, the
more thoroughly he became convinced of Hadley's guilt. Did not
Duffel's statement correspond precisely with that of his daughter? and
how could it be so without being true? It was an impossibility. The
more he reflected, the deeper became his conviction of the guilt of
Hadley and of the existence of a plot to defame Duffel. Another idea
suggested itself: "Was his daughter an intentional or an unintentional
party to these transactions? Might not her dislike of Duffel and her
preference for Hadley induce her to seek for some means to accomplish
the disgrace of the former?" While he was weighing this supposition in
the balance of his mind, he chanced to see his daughter walking with
Hadley, and their manner of conversation and the evident good-will
existing between them, led him, in his bewildered state, to conclude
that Eveline was not as free from implication as she might be. After
harboring this thought for a day or two longer, he charged her with the
crime of confederating to injure Duffel, as already related. Had he
known that Duffel's story was made so fitly apt, simply because he had
basely eavesdropped and sacrilegiously listened to the sanctitude of a
conversation at the domestic hearth, how different would have been the
result!
CHAPTER III.
THE INVALID.
When Mr. Mandeville entered the house, as related at the close of the
first chapter, he found Eveline lying on the floor of her room, in a state
of insensibility. All his efforts to arouse her were unavailing, and
leaving her in the care of the distracted housemaid, he hastened off for
the doctor. When the stunning influence was removed, Eveline was still
unconscious. A burning fever was in her veins, and delirium in her
brain. All night long the doctor remained by her bedside, and when
morning at length compelled him to visit other patients, he left with an
expression on his countenance, which caused anything but a hopeful

sensation in the father's breast.
Days of anxiety and nights of sleepless watching passed away, and yet
the father, with pale cheeks and heavy heart, sat by the bedside of the
afflicted. No mother had she, that kind parent having several years
before been laid in the cold grave; and the father strove to make up for
the loss as far as he could understand the necessities of a sick-room;
and, indeed, he