LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2486, 25 March 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

EVE : A DOMESTIC STORY,

She had promiaed him that Bhe would mend the lining of his new overcoat, if be would wear another and leave that at And bo, as he had left it, she took it from the rack and carried it Into her sewing room, !jhe was Mrs Wilton, and she had been married five yoars, and never during that time had had one unhappy moment. Mr Wilton had been very attentive, very kino, and never mar'e her jealous. She often Baid she was the happiest woman living. Kow as she looked at the lining and compared the f ilk with which she was about to replace the torn portion, she was thinking theso thoughts. They had nevar had any children, but when people are all in all to each other that is no very greit grief. All her care was for him—all his for her. 'And he is just the dearest, best, trneat fellow in the world.' said Rve Wilton to herself ; ' I'm not half good enough for him. I wonder what this is in his pocket ; it bulges it all out of shape.' Bhe put her hand into the breast pocket as she spoke, and drew out a large package wrapped up in silver paper and tied with blue ribbon. 4 i-ometbing he has bought for me, said Eve ;* I wonder what it is. I think I won't open It until he comes home.' Then she laid the silk across the hole and cut it off and basted it down. • I wonder what it is,' said she; ' Tom did mean to get me an opera glass, 1 know ,- but that is not the shape of the parcel. It doesn't seem like a book. It might be lace wonnd on a card—real lice ' She looked at the package again. •I do wonder what it is,' said she, and hemmed the patch down. 'There wasn't much to mend, after all. I thought the tear much longer. He caught it on a nail at the office, I know. Now, I do wonder what there is in that package ?' Eve put the coat over a chair and took up the little parcal. 'Tom wouldn't mind,'she said ; ' I will juat take a peep I'm sure it is for me.' Then she undid the ribbon, unfolded the paper and saw letters. ' Dear Tom,' said she, 'he must keep my old letters next his heart, and he never haß told me. But the writing was not hers; she saw that at a glance ' His mother's letterß,' she said, he loved his mother so.* Then Bhe began to tremble a little, for the letters did not begin 'My dear son,' nor anything like It. She cast her eyes over them. They were love letters. * Tom haa love! some other woman before he met me,' she said, beginning to cry ; « oh, what shall Ido ?' Then ehe cried out, ' Oh, foolish, foolish creature that I am! Of course she died, and he only loves me now, It was all over before we met. I muss not mind.' But there she paused, gave a scream, and threw the letter from her aa though it had been a serpent that had bitten her. It was dated the past week. It was not four days 'Oh! Oh!'cried Eve; oh, what shall I do ? Oh, where shall Igo ?' At every cry a thought pierced her brain like an actual stab « Tom, roy Tom. What shall Ido ! Tom! Tom ! He to be false—Tom 1 Oh, I have gone mad! No! There they are! They are really there —those letters ! Why did I not die ? Do people live through such things as these?' Then Bhe knelt down on the floor and gathered up the letters, and steadily read them through. There were ten of them. Such love letters—Buch as are always produced in court In casas of breach of promise. And they called him ' Popsy Wopsy.' and 'Darlingy Parllngy,' and ' Lovey Dovey,' and 'Own Sweetneis,' and 'Angel of my Soul,' and they were all signed ' Tour Own * ellie ' „ . . «It is all true,' said poor Kve, wringing her hands, ' and it is worse than anything I have ever heard of. I trasted him bo. 1 believed in him so My Tom—mine ' Thea she wiped her eyes, gathered up the letters, packed them up, wrapped the silver paper about them, tU& the blue ribbon, put them back in the awfal breaßt pocket of that dreadful overcoat, and hung ic on the hallrack again. •Tom shall newer know, she said, 1 will not reproach him. I will never see him again. When he comes home I shall be dead I will not live to bear this.' Then Bhe sat down to think over the best means of suicide. She could hang herself by the chandelier with a window-blind cord ; but then she would be blaok in the face and hideoua. t-he coald drown herself, but then her body would go floating down the river to the Bca; and drowned people looked even wor»e than strangled ones. She was too much afraid of firearms to shoot herself, even In the strait. She would take poison. £es. that would be the best; and though she could never see Tom again, he would see her, and remorae would sting him. Here she made a great mistake. A man who is coolly treacherous to women never has auy remorse. Remorse in love affaira is a purely feminine quality, and even the worst of the sex ere not without it. However, it Is natural to believe that remorse is possiblo to a man whom one has heretofore believed to be an angel id human form, and Eve took a little miserable comfort in the thought that Tom would kn9el before her coffin and burst into tears and passionate exclamations of regret, which perhaps she might see from some spiritual post of observation. So hiving put on a hat and a thick veil. Eve betook herself down the street and around the corner to the nearest German druggist. The druggist was an old man; a benevo-lent-looking one, with red cheeks and a smiling mouth; and when she aßke d for poison for rats, he said 'Oh!' and beamed mildly upon her. ' Ro I want it very Btrong,' said Eve. 'So—oa !' said the druggist. 'But not to give more pain than is neces. sary,' said Eve. ' To the rats ?' asked the druggist. ' Tee,' said Eve, 'of course ; and lb must be quick, and not make one black in the face.'

•So —oh !' said the druggiat, BlowJy ; ' well, what I shall give you shall not make the rata black in the face.'

And with a grave countenance he compounded a powder and handed it across the counter.

Eve took it, passed the few cents he asked and walked away. Once home, she went to her room, and undressed herself, and retired to bed. taking the powder with her. Once or twice ahe tasted it with the tip of her tongue, hoping it was not very diaagreeable. Then finding it sweet, she bravely swallowed it. 'lt is over,' she said; ' Oh, heaven, forgive me and forgive me, and forgive Tom.'

And then Bhe laid herself down upon her pillow. Jußt as she did so the familiar sound of a latch key in the door below startled her. Tom never came home at noon but there ho waa now ; no one else but Tom would walk in in that cool way; and now he was calling her. ' Eve—Eve—Eve —where are you V Never before had ahe refused to answer that voioe.

' Why had he oome to torture her dying momen'vs? Hark—'

Now he was bouncing up-stairs. He wbb in the room.

' What is the matter ? Are you ill, Eve ?' he cried.

'No,' she said fiintly ; 'only tired.' * Ah! you look tired, little one,' said he ; ' I came home to get the overcoat; I suppose you've found out by this time that that in the ball ia n„t mine ; I wore Johnson's overcoat home from the office last night by mistake, and he is anxious about it ; he asked me if there was any one in the house who would be apt to meddle with p»pers or anything in the pockets, I said I thought not. I hadn't a jealous wife—eh! What's the matter. Eve.'

' Oh, Tom! ' cried Eve, hysterically ; 'oh, Tom, pay it again 1 It was not your coat ? Oh, Tom, kiss me '

'Why, what is the matter, Eve?' cried Tom ; * you must be ill.' Then Eve remembered all.

'Oh, I am a wicked woman, Tom!' sho cried ; ' there were letters In the pocket — love letters ; I real them : I thought yon false to me ; I —l—took poison, Tom ; I'm going to die—and I long to live so. Ch, Tom, save me.'

' Yea, yes,' cried Tom ; ' oh, good heavens, what poison?' 'Mr Rodman will know. I bought it of him, Perhaps he can save me !' cried Eve.

Awsy went Tom, white as death, to the druggist's around the corner. He burst into the Bhop like a -whirlwind. •The lady!' he gasped; 'the lady who bought poison here an hour ago. ."■ he took it by mistake. Can you save her ? Have you an antidote ? She is dying!' ' J* o, no !' said the old German ; ' be calm ! be at rest! No.no! t-he cannot die of zit. When a lady ask me for poiaon that will n»t turn a rat blaok in the face, I say to myself, ' S;>! I Bmcll somedinga ;' an 1 I give her in ze paper shust a little BUgar and some dings. She oould take a pound. Go home and tell her so. I never sell poison to womens that ory and do not viah the rat to become black In z i face. Ho —be calm."

So Tom flew home again, and Eve rejoice 5 ; and, hearing that Johnson was a single man, who admitted himself to be engaged, she did not rip the patoh off his coat a<! she had at first intended.