"Would you never forgive him?" asked Eve's voice from the shadow.

"Blood for blood!" responded Paul, hotly. "No, not unless I killed him; then I might."

Eve rose.

Paul got up. "Oh, are you going?" But she did not hear him; she had gone to her lodge. He sat down again. She did not reappear that night.

The next morning she went off for a solitary walk. By chance her steps took the direction of a small promontory that jutted sharply into the lake, its perpendicular face rising to a height of forty feet from the deep water below; she had been here several times before, and knew the place well; it was about a mile from the camp. As she sat there, Paul's figure appeared through the trees. He came straight to her. "I have been looking for you, I tried to find you last night." He paused a moment.

"Eve, don't you see what I've come for? Right in the midst of all this grief and trouble I've found out something. It's just this, Eve: I love you."

She tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her where she was. "Oh, but I do, you needn't doubt it," he went on, with an amused smile--amused at himself; "in some way or other the thing has come about, I may say, in spite of me. I never thought it would. But here 'tis--with a vengeance! I think of you constantly, I can't help thinking of you; I recognize, at last, that the thing is unchangeable, that it's for life; have you I must." The words were despotic, but the tone was entreating; and the eyes, looking down upon her, were caressing--imploring. "Yes, I'm as helpless as any one," Paul went on, smiling as he said it; "I can't sleep, even. Come, take me; I'm not such a bad fellow, after all--I really think I'm not. And as regards my feeling for you, you need not be troubled; it's strong enough!"

She quailed under his ardor.

"I haven't spoken before because there has been so much to do," Paul continued; "there has been Cicely, and then I've been hara.s.sed about business; I've been in a box, and trying to get out. Besides, I wasn't perfectly sure that my time had come." He laughed. "I'm sure now." He took her in his arms. "Don't let us make any delays, Eve; we're not so young, either of us. Not that you need be afraid that you're to be the less happy on that account; I'll see to that!"

She broke from him.

But again he came to her, he took her hands, and, kneeling, laid his forehead upon them. "I will be as humble as you like; only--be good to me. I long for it, I must have it."

A sob rose in her throat. He sprang up. "Don't do that! Why, I want to make you absolutely happy, if I can. We shall have troubles enough, and perhaps we shall have sorrows, but at least we shall be together; you must never leave me, and I will do all I can to be less rough. But on your side there's one thing, Eve: you _must_ love me." These last words were murmured in her ear.

She drew herself away from him. The expression of her face was almost like death.

"You look as though you were afraid of me! I thought you loved me, Eve?"

"I do."

"Pretend you are a man, then, long enough to say 'yes' without any more circ.u.mlocution. We will be married at Port aux Pins. Then we can take care of Cicely together."

"I shall never marry."

"Yes, you will."

"I do not wish to leave Cicely."

"She wouldn't care about that. She isn't even fond of you."

"Oh, what shall I say to you?" cried Eve, her hands dropping by her sides. "Listen: it will be absolutely impossible for you to change my determination. But I am so horribly unhappy that I do believe I cannot stand anything more--any more contests with you. Leave me to myself; say nothing to me. But don't drive me away; at least let me stay near you."

"In my arms, Eve."

"Let me stay near you; see you; hear you talk; but that is all."

"And how long do you suppose that could last? It's a regular woman's idea: nonsense."

"Paul, be merciful!"

"Merciful? Oh, yes!" He took her again in his arms.

"I swear to you that I cannot marry you," she said, trembling as his cheek touched hers. "Since I've known you I haven't wanted to die, I've wanted to live--live a long life. But now I _do_ want to die; there is a barrier between us, I cannot lift it."

He released her. "There could be but one.--I believe that you are truthful; is the barrier another man?"

Another man? She hesitated a moment. "Yes."

He looked at her. "I don't believe you! You are lying for some purpose of your own. See here, Eve, I don't want to be played with in this way; you love me, and I worship you; by this time next week you are to be my wife."

"I must go away from you, then? You won't help me? Where can I go!" She left him; she walked slowly towards the lake, her head bowed.

He followed her. He had paid no attention to what she was saying; "feminine complications"--this was all he thought. He was very masterful with women.

As he came up she turned her head and looked at him. And, by a sort of inspiration, he divined that the look was a farewell. He caught her, and none too soon, for, as he touched her, he felt the impulse, the first forward movement of the spring which would have taken her over the edge, down to the deep water below.

Carrying her in his arms, close against his breast, he hastened away from the edge; he went inland for a long distance. Then he stopped, releasing her. He was extremely pale.

"I believe you now," he said. "All shall be as you like--just as you like; I will do anything you wish me to do." He seemed to be still afraid, he watched her anxiously.

She came and put her hands on his shoulders; she lifted her head and kissed his cheek. It was like the kiss one gives in the chamber of death.

He did not move, he was holding himself in strict control. But he felt the misery of her greeting so acutely that moisture rose in his eyes.

She saw it. "Don't be troubled about me," she said. "I didn't want to die--really, I didn't want to at all. It was only because just at that moment I could not bear it to have you keep asking me when it was impossible,--I felt that I must go away; and apart from you, and Cicely and baby, there seemed no place in the world for me! But now--now I _want_ to live. Perhaps we shall both live long lives."

"I'm not a woman, you know," said Paul, with a faint smile. "Women do with make-believes; men can't."

She had left him. "Go now," she said.

He turned to obey. Then he came back. "Eve, can't you tell me your real reason?"

But her face changed so quickly to its old look of agony that he felt a pang of regret that he had spoken. "I will never ask you again," he said.

This was the offering he made her--a great one for Paul Tennant. He went away.

An hour later she came back to the camp.

"Paul has gone to Potterpins," said Hollis, who was sitting by the fire.

"Told me to give you this." He handed her a note.

It contained but two lines: "I shall come back next week. But send a note by mail; I want to know if you are contented with me."

Eve wrote but one word--"Yes."

XXV.