“And I am sure he did, for he looked me in the face.” And the tears of Eveline flowed afresh. “He has not been to the house for a month. Something is wrong. I met Mary Grant, and she, instead of stopping with her usual pleasant smile, nodded coldly and passed on. I also saw Adelaide Winters, who merely paused a moment, and spoke in a very distant way. What can it all mean, Eunie? I am sure there must be some dreadful story told about me, or why would my friends treat me so distantly, and Henry, above all things, refuse to know me?” And again the maiden wept bitterly. “Whatever evil judgment there may be of you, Evie,” said Eunice, with great tenderness, drawing her arm around the neck of Eveline as she spoke, “is a false judgment. And however painful the consequences may be, you have, in the conscious innocence of any wrong, that to sustain you which will keep your head above the waters. If Henry’s trust in you be so poorly based, that it can be blown away by a breath of detraction--if he be so ready to believe an evil report against you--he never could have really known you or truly loved you, and, therefore, is himself not worthy the pure love of your heart. It may cost you a severe struggle to do so, but, Evie, give him up! Erase his image from your heart. Pardon me for saying now, what I have always thought, that Henry Pascal is not worthy of you.” Eveline started at this, with an indignant expression on her face and word on her tongue; but she checked herself as she met the calm, truthful, loving eyes of her sister fixed earnestly upon her. “I have uttered what was in my heart, Evie. That my impression has been as I have said, I cannot help. Of the truth of it, I have not a doubt. To speak out as I feel, and yet as the sister who loves you truly, I will go farther, and say, that I am glad of almost any circumstance that would try his affection for you, and more glad that he has turned away coldly from one he was not capable of loving as she deserved. Time, Evie, will prove you the truth of what I now say.” The language of Eunice completely bewildered the mind of Eveline. It was so strange and so unexpected. She knew not what reply to make. “All will come out right in the end, Evie,” pursued Eunice. “Trust in that, sister, and trust in it implicitly. As Mr. Carlton showed so beautifully last Sunday, there is not the smallest circumstance of our lives that is not in some way connected with our future, and which the future will not show to be a link in a progressive series of causes, all tending to bring out some good result. If Henry has suffered his mind to be estranged from you, no matter what may be the cause, depend upon it that it is for the best. This you will one day see. Be brave, then, dear Evie, to meet the present danger; and let the reflection, that whatever occurs, whether joyous or grievous, is under the Divine permission, support you in the trial.”