“No; not yet. It would only do harm. All that can be done I will attend to. It is impossible that there should be anything serious in this. Stay quietly at home till you hear from me.” Eva hesitated. Her first generous impulse was to brave everything for the two beings she loved so dearly. But nobility of purpose is not always prudently carried out. It requires more fortitude to stay at home and wait, than to rush out and act. The girl was brave, but she was also obedient, and when Ruth spoke, she turned from her purpose. “Stay, Eva,” said the gentle invalid. “You can do nothing. Our good friend will help us. Stay till he comes.” Eva sat down, and burst into tears. Forbidden to act, she could only weep and wait. “Tell him that I have left his house! That—that he is a cruel, hard-hearted man! Tell him that there is no sort of use in his ever coming home again—for—for—— Oh, it is dreadful! Why can’t people die when they want to?” Mrs. Smith would have added more no doubt, but half these words were smothered on Ruth’s couch; and when she looked up, Mr. Ross was passing through the garden-gate. “Oh, girls, what shall we do?” she exclaimed, “what shall we do! Just say that I never ought to speak to Smith again, and I won’t; no, not if he takes Jerusha Maria out of my arms, and gives her—oh! oh!—to some other woman.” “My dear friend,” murmured Ruth, “go home to your child—all will be well.” “Yes, I will go!” sobbed the good woman; “but it shall be down there.” CHAPTER LVII. IN HASTE FOR THE WEDDING. Miss Ellen Post was taking in the waist of Miss Spicer’s white silk dress, and had altered the trimming till it really seemed as good as new. Miss Spicer, herself, had come down into the servants’ parlor to examine the effect, and had brought from her own room a quantity of tulle scarcely the worse for wear, which had once covered a trained over-dress, but was quite fresh enough for the wedding veil; especially as the breadths were joined neatly by a white wreath, which had been beautifully freshened up for the occasion. Some deeper anxiety than the wedding dress had evidently brought the young heiress into the servants’ department, for she pushed aside a mass of silk tulle and fragments of lace from a couch which stood near the expectant bride, and seemed to prepare herself for a conversation of some length. Miss Post was very busy with the bridal veil, and threw her whole energies so completely into the pleasant task, that she had little attention to bestow even on the young lady who had honored her by a visit, and from whom she expected so much. Thus Miss Spicer was compelled to begin the subject that was resting heavily on her mind, without help from the waiting maid. “You are quite sure, Ellen, that there is no mistake about the arrests,” she said, at length.