Her heart swelled within her almost to bursting. She felt a passionate regret surging over her that she had not been friends always with the handsome young man that, as boy and man, had been their neighbor. She remembered how all the girls had raved over him when he graduated at the West Virginia University, two years before, and succeeded to his father’s practice, the old man retiring in his favor. He was very young, scarcely older than Terry; handsome, and manly, and winning. Every girl in the neighborhood except three had set their caps at him. It all rushed over Eva now with keen regret that she had been so scornful to one whom fate had destined to lay down his life for her sake. She comprehended soon that the kiss and the kind words she had given to him in his dying hour were being used to her disadvantage now, but it seemed to her that, not to have saved her life would she have repented or taken back her impulsive farewell, for if she lived to be a hundred she would never forget the look of love surprised that shone in his dark-blue eyes the moment of his death. “How strange; how very strange! Perhaps he did not hate me, after all!” she thought, in wonder, and turned back to her grandfather, pleading: “Gran’ther, do not judge him hardly. He is dead, and cannot defend himself against your blame. Indeed, I do not believe he was a bad man.” “Oh, no, for you loved him! You told him so before us all!” mocked Patty, with fiery scorn. “Yes, you loved him!” hissed Gran’ther Groves, in a sort of fury. “You loved him, the enemy of your family; you trailed our honest name in the dust for the vile wretch who stole into his neighbor’s house to dishonor its fairest flower! No woman of our race ever thus stained our clean name before, but, before Heaven, if it had been any one but a Ludington you stooped to I might have pitied and forgiven you because you were so young, and motherless, and ignorant! But this was a crime that never can be forgiven. I renounce you!” “But, gran’ther, I am innocent!” she shrieked, in agonized pleading, her young face as white as death. Unheeding her words, he went on fiercely: “I renounce you, Eva Somerville, and disown and disinherit you. Terry Groves branded you with shame in his dying moment, and dying lips dare not speak falsely. You are no longer my granddaughter, and this roof can never shelter you more. I have told you of your father, from whom you must have inherited this vile streak in your blood. Go, now, and seek him in New York; tell him who you are, and that your future home must be with him!” He flung a well-filled purse into her lap, adding furiously: “Begone at once! There is money for your journey! Tabitha, her cloak and hat! Help her to get ready, the sooner the better! Not an hour longer shall she sully the air of this home!” He turned his back on her and hobbled out, leaving Miss Tabitha to obey his mandate with cheerful alacrity. CHAPTER V. AN AWFUL GRIEF.