The minutes slipped away till a quarter of an hour was told. They scarcely spoke to each other. Each had a curious air of expectancy. Then Ada announced: “He is going away again. To the bachelor party, I suppose.” They watched him get into his carriage, heard the wheels as it rolled away. Both drew a breath of relief. “It almost seemed strange, his coming to-night,” Eva exclaimed. There was a light tap on the outer door, and she added: “Auntie is coming to tell us what he wanted. Come in.” Mr. Somerville stalked in with a face as gray and hueless as the dead. “Oh, papa, how strange you look!” the girl cried in alarm. “Are you ill?--or--has anything happened?” He drew her into his arms with a protecting air, groaning hoarsely: “The worst has happened!” “Oh, papa, I have you still--so it cannot be the worst,” she sobbed. “Oh, my darling, how can I break the cruel truth to you? No, Miss Winton, do not go; you must hear it also. Eva, a fiend in human form, jealous of your happiness, has dealt you a cruel blow in the dark. The slanderer’s poisoned tongue has breathed into Reginald Hamilton’s ears the story of your blighted past and bitter misfortunes. He chooses to believe the worst, to break his word, to repudiate you! There will be no wedding to-morrow!” CHAPTER XXXVII. HOW EVA BORE THE BLOW. None could tell how the ubiquitous reporters on the great morning dailies got the news of the broken marriage that night. But the next morning they announced it under various glaring headlines. No names were given, but a slightly garbled version of the story was presented, so that “all who run may read.” The young girl who had been the heroine of the terrible Hallowe’en tragedy, and afterward the temporary inmate of a madhouse, was represented as having deceived the scion of one of New York’s best families into an engagement that would have speedily culminated in marriage but for a fortunate happening in his favor. A cousin of the heroine, coming to the city, and learning of the affair just in time to stop it, had written the bridegroom a long letter with all the facts, and referring him to the bride and her father for confirmation. On their admitting the truth he had renounced her with indignation, and the wedding was off, and the fair lady disconsolate. Perhaps Mrs. Putnam and Patty could have told who furnished the reporters with their facts, but they remained quiet and enjoyed the sensation. Fashionable New York society could scarcely credit what they read. That sweet, innocent-looking young girl, it could not possibly be true! There must be some mistake. Perhaps the jealous cousin had slandered the lovely bride. Excitement ran high all the morning, and everybody was wondering how poor Eva took the tragic affair. No one could have believed that it was one of the happiest moments of her life when her stricken father told her of Reggie’s visit and furious severance of the marriage engagement.