The secret thoughts of each fell like a shadow between them: an
invisible hand seemed to thrust them asunder, and, in spite of the love
they both felt, both were equally conscious of a want of that entire
sympathy which is the keystone to perfect union.
"You _were_ very glad to see me come back to you, Eve?" Adam asked, as,
tired of waiting for Joan, Eve at length decided to sit up no longer.
"Glad, Adam? Why do you ask?"
"I can't tell," he said, "I s'pose it's this confounded upset of
everything that makes me feel as I do feel--as if," he added, passing
his hand over his forehead, "I hadn't a bit of trust or hope or comfort
in anything in the world."
"I know exactly," said Eve. "That's just as I felt when we were waiting
for you to come back. Joan asked if we should read the Bible, but I
said no, I couldn't: I felt too wicked for that."
"Wicked?" said Adam. "Why, what should make you feel wicked?"
Eve hesitated. Should she unburden her heart and confess to him all the
fears and scruples which made it feel so heavy and ill at ease? A
moment's indecision, and the opportunity lost, she said in a dejected
tone, "Oh, I cannot tell; only that I suppose such thoughts come to all
of us sometimes.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96