Eve saw her first, she drew herself away from Paul; but immediately she came back to him, laying her hand on his shoulder as if to hold him, to keep him by her side.

"Paul," said Cicely, still looking at Eve, "something has come to me; Eve told me that she did a dreadful thing." And now she transferred her gaze to Paul, looking at him with earnestness, as if appealing to him to lighten her perplexity.

"Yes, dear; let us go back to the camp," said Paul, soothingly.

"Wait till I have told you all. She came to me, and asked--I don't know where it was exactly?" And now she looked at Eve, inquiringly.

Eve's eyes met hers, and the deep antagonism of the expression roused the dulled intelligence. "How you do hate me, Eve! It's because you love Paul. I don't see how Paul can like you, when you were always so hard to Ferdie; for from the first she was hard to him, Paul; from the very first. I remember--"

Eve, terrified, turned away, thus releasing Cicely from the spell of her menacing glance.

Cicely paused; and then went back to her former narrative confusedly, speaking with interruptions, with pauses. "She came to me, Paul, and she asked, 'Cicely, do you know how he died?' And I said, 'Yes; there were two negroes.' And she answered me, 'No; there were no negroes--'"

"Dreams, Cicely," said Paul, kindly. "Every one has dreams like that."

"No. I have a great many dreams, but this was not one of them,"

responded Cicely. "Wait; it will come to me."

"Take her back to the camp; carry her," said Eve, in a sharp voice.

"Oh, she'll come without that," Paul answered, smiling at the peremptory tone.

"You go first, then. I will bring her."

"Don't leave me alone with Eve," pleaded Cicely, shrinking close to Paul.

"Take her back," said Eve. And her voice expressed such acute suffering that Paul did his best to content her.

"Come," he said, gently, taking Cicely's hand.

"A moment," answered Cicely, putting her other hand on Paul's arm, as if to hold his attention. "And then she said: 'Don't you remember that we escaped through the woods to the north point, and that you tried to push off the boat, and couldn't. Don't you remember that gleam of the candle down the dark road?'"

Eve made an involuntary movement.

"I wonder what candle she could have been thinking of!" pursued Cicely, in a musing voice. "There are a great many candles in the Catholic churches, that I know."

Eve looked across at Paul with triumph in her eyes.

"And she said that a baby climbed up by one of the seats," Cicely went on. "And that this man--I don't know who he was, exactly--made a dash forward--" Here she lost the thread, and stopped. Then she began again: "She took me away ever so far--we went in a steamboat; and Ferdie died all alone! You _can't_ like her for that, Paul; you can't!" Her face altered. "Why don't I see him over there on the other beach?" she asked, quickly.

"You see?" said Eve, with trembling lips.

"Yes," answered Paul, watching the quivering motion. "We haven't had our walk, Eve; remember that."

"I can come out again. After we have got her back."

Cicely had ceased speaking. She turned and searched Eve's face with eyes that dwelt and lingered. "How happy you look, Eve! And yet I am sure you have no right to be happy, I am sure there is some reason--The trouble is that I can't remember what it is! Perhaps it will come to me yet,"

she added, threateningly.

Paul, drew her away; he took her back to the camp.

That evening, Eve came to him on the beach.

"Do you love me? Do you love me the same as ever?" she said.

He could scarcely hear her.

"Do you think I have had time to change since afternoon?" he asked, laughing.

And then life came back to the woman by his side, came in the red that flushed her cheeks and her white throat, in her revived breath.

"Paul," she said, after a while, "send Cicely home; send her home with her grandfather, she can travel now without danger."

"I can't desert Cicely," said Paul, surprised.

"It wouldn't be desertion; you can always help her. And she would be much happier there than here."

"She's not going to be very happy anywhere, I am afraid."

"The judge would be happier, too," said Eve, shifting her ground.

"I dare say. Poor old man!"

"A winter in Port aux Pins would kill him," Eve continued.

"I intended to take them south before the real winter, the deep snow."

"Mrs. Mile could go now. And--and perhaps Mr. Hollis."

"Kit? What could Kit do down there?"

"Marry Miss Sabrina," suggested Eve, with a sudden burst of wild laughter, in which Paul joined.

"They are all to go, are they? But you and I are not to go; is that your plan?" he went on.

"Yes."

He kissed her. "Paul Tennant and his wife will take Cicely south themselves," he said, stroking her hair caressingly. "It's always braided so closely, Eve; how long is it when down?"

But she did not hear these whispered words; she drew herself away from him with pa.s.sionate strength. "No, she must go with some one else; she can go with any one you please; we can have two nurses, instead of one.

But you--you must not go; you must stay with me."

"Why, Eve, I hardly know you! Why do you feel so about poor little Cicely? Why strike a person who's down?"

"Oh, yes--down; that is what you all say. Yet she has had everything, even if she has lost it now; and some people go through all their lives without one single thing they really care for. She shall not rob me of this, I will not let her. I defy her; I defy her!"

"She shall go back to Romney," said Paul. What these disagreements between the two women were about, he did not know. His idea was that he would marry Eve as soon as possible--within the next ten days; and then, after they were married, he would tell her that it was best that they should take Cicely south themselves. She would see the good sense of his decision, she would not dispute his judgment when once she was his wife; she could not have any real dislike for poor little Cicely, that was impossible.

Eve came back to him humbly enough. "I am afraid you do not like my interfering with your plans?" she said.