They walked for some distance without speaking. "I have just been
writing to Ferdie," Paul said at last.
The gray-green wood had seemed to Eve like another world, an enchanted
land. Now she was forced back to real life again. "Oh, if he would only
say nothing--just go on without speaking; it's all I ask," she thought.
"I shall go down there in ten days or so," Paul went on. "Ferdie will be
up then--in all probability well. I shall take him to Charleston, and
from there we shall sail."
"Sail?"
"To Norway."
"Norway?"
"Didn't I tell you?--I have made up my mind that a long voyage in a
sailing vessel will be the best thing for him just now."
"And you go too?"
"Of course."
"Four or five weeks, perhaps?"
"Four or five months; as it grows colder, we can come down to the
Mediterranean."
A chill crept slowly over Eve. "Was it--wasn't it difficult to arrange
for so long an absence?"
"As Hollis would phrase it, 'You bet it was!'" answered Paul, laughing.
"I shall come back without a cent in either pocket; but I've been
centless before--I'm not terrified."
"If you would only take some of mine!"
"You will have Cicely. We shall both have our hands full."
She looked up at him more happily; they were to be associated together
in one way, then, after all. But a vision followed, a realization of the
blankness that was to come. Less than two weeks and he would be gone!
"When the journey is over, shall you bring Ferdie to Port aux Pins?"
"That depends. On the whole, I think not; Ferdie would hate the place;
it's comical what tastes he has--that boy! My idea is that he will do
better in South America; he has already made a beginning there, and
likes the life. This time he can take Cicely with him, and that will
steady him; he will go to housekeeping, he will be a family man." And
Paul smiled; to him, Ferdie was still the lad of fifteen years before.
But in Eve's mind rose a recollection of the light of a candle far down
a narrow road. "Oh, don't let her go with him! Don't!"
Paul stopped. "You are sometimes so frightened, I have noticed that. And
yet you are no coward. What happened--really? What did you do?"
She could not speak.
"I'm a brute to bother you about it," Paul went on. "But I have always
felt sure that you did more that night than you have ever acknowledged;
Cicely couldn't tell us, you see, because she had fainted. How strange
you look! Are you ill?"
"It is nothing. Let us walk on."
"As you please."
"If they go to South America, why shouldn't you go with them?" he said,
after a while, returning to his first topic. "You will have to go if you
want to keep a hold on Jack, for Cicely will never give him up to you
for good and all, as you have hoped. If you were with them, _I_ should
feel a great deal safer."
Well, that was something. Was this, then, to be her occupation for the
future--by a watch over Ferdie, to make his brother more comfortable?
She tried to give a sarcastic turn to this idea. But again the feeling
swept over her: Oh, if it had only been any one but Ferdinand
Morrison!--Ferdinand Morrison!
"How you shuddered!" said Paul. Walking beside her, he had felt her
tremble. "You certainly are ill."
"No. But don't let us talk of any of those things to-day, let us forget
them."
"How can we?"
"_I_ can!" The color rose suddenly in her cheeks; for the moment she was
beautiful. "My last walk with him! When he is gone, the days will be a
blank."
--"It is my last walk with you!" she said aloud, pursuing the current of
her thoughts.
He looked at her askance.
His glance brought her back to reality. She turned and left him; she
walked rapidly towards the lake, coming out on the beach beyond Eagle
Point.
He followed her, and, as he came up, his eyes took possession of and
held hers, as they had done before; then, after a moment, he put his arm
round her, drew her to him, and bent his face to hers.
She tried to spring from him. But he still held her. "What shall I say
to excuse myself, Eve?"
The tones of his voice were very sweet. But he was smiling a little too.
She saw it; she broke from his grasp.
"You look as though you could kill me!" he said.
(And she did look so.)
"Forgive me," he went on; "tell me you don't mind."
"I should have thought--that what I confessed to you--you know, that
day--
But there were no subtleties in Paul. "Why, that was the very reason,"
he answered. "What did you tell me for, if you didn't want me to think
of it?" Then he took a lighter tone. "Come, forget it. It was
nothing.--What's one kiss?"
Eve colored deeply.
And then, suddenly, Paul Tennant colored too.
He turned his head away, and his glance, resting on the water, was
stopped by something--a dark object floating. He put up a hand on each
side of his face and looked more steadily. "Yes. No. _Yes!_ There's a
_woman_ out there--lashed to something. I must go out and see." He had
thrown his hat down upon the sand as he spoke; he was hastily taking off
his coat and waistcoat, his shoes and stockings; then he waded out
rapidly, and when the rock shelved off, he began to swim.