Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/981

Rh timate of our friends. To enter it is like calling one by his Christian name. Godfrey's pipe and your work-basket, Eve—they look as though they had been talking together. [Picking up Godfrey's glove.] Ah, my boy, this shows me that you are beginning to appreciate the true advantages of being a benedick. The sewing on of a button is love reduced to common sense, heaven in every-day life. But, chut! Eve, it is useless to build the hospital if the physician does not attend to his patient. Look! two of the fingers are out, and the button is hanging by a single thread.

Eve. Goff but just now gave it to me. [Taking the glove and threading a needle.] We have been waiting on each other.

Mr. Rivers (playfully). I understand; the honeymoon again—it is still dazzling your eyes. Let it shine while it will; there is but one even in the matrimonial heavens. [Walking around the room.] The same old pictures and the hundred little trifles that speak of a woman's touch. They all have their meaning, like the unconscious pressure of a friend's hand,—something that one might miss without knowing what it was. [Mr. Rivers steps on the fragments of the broken picture beneath the rug and starts.] Eh, glass! It feels like it.

Eve (hastily). Now, papa, you must not make me blush for my housekeeping. The rug was handier than a dust-pan—that was all.

Mr. Rivers. Or even the bell-pull? A terrible example to the servants, my dear. [Suddenly.] Bless me! Godfrey, have you the time?—I don't like to hurry.

Godfrey. It is only twenty minutes after four, and I can drive you to the station in fifteen easily. The carriage is still waiting.

Mr. Rivers. Oh, I told the cabman to stop. You must let the old man travel his own way. I have never missed a train yet, and there is a tremendous amount of satisfaction in arriving early and enjoying the agonies of the people who appear at the last moment. The railway station is my vaudeville, and I go early so as to secure a front seat. [He buttons up his coat and draws on his gloves.] Well, my children, I go away content in that you are happy. And even though the romance is just a little in the background— [He crosses over and stops before the writing-desk.] And, by the way, here used to be its own particular shrine—the altar itself. In that curtained recess there—you need not blush, Eve; Godfrey showed it to me long ago. Let me see—a photograph of young Mrs. Effingham in her bridal gown, and standing before it a vase that was daily filled with fresh flowers. Sentimental! Well, I suppose it was, but not in the common way. The curtain took care of that. And now—

Eve (quickly). You must remember, papa, that we have been married a whole year.

Mr. Rivers. And have accordingly become a very dignified and matter-of-fact young couple. Well, let us see.

Godfrey (hastily interposing). It is hardly worth the while—an idle fancy—

Eve (aside). Godfrey!

Mr. Rivers (interrupting). Of which you used to be very proud, nevertheless. Come, Goff, I'm not going to make fun of you and your pretty fancies, but you must let me have my way in this. Surely I am privileged.

Godfrey (forcibly preventing him). I beg your pardon, Mr. Rivers, but you must not—must not.

Eve (apart). Are you mad? It is just the way to arouse his suspicions. [Aloud.] For shame! Papa, you are as curious as a woman. But if you will look, it is at your peril.

Godfrey. Eve!

Mr. Rivers (delightedly). The curtain! Up with it.

Eve. Don't blame me, then, if you are disappointed. [She draws the curtain aside and the picture is seen in the recess, with the vase of fresh flowers standing before it.] Ah!

Mr. Rivers. Bravo! [He puts an arm around both Eve and Godfrey and draws them to him.] Foolish children! Did you really fear that I might laugh at you? I came here to-day to find you apparently as happy as in the first dawn