With a start she raised her head. Paul stood there beside her.
"You did not expect to see me. But I had word. Hollis got one of the men
off secretly as soon as he could; he was ashamed to see me treated so."
"No," said Eve; "he wanted to give _me_ a pleasure." Nothing could have
been more dreary than her tone, more desperate than her eyes, as she
looked at him.
"Oh, why did you come here?" she went on.
"I didn't believe it, Eve; I thought it was all gammon."
"No; it's true."
"That you were going to leave me?--Going off without letting me know?"
"Yes."
"Who has been talking to you? Cicely--now that she is herself again?
She's a murderous little creature."
"I talked to _her_, I asked her to take me with her."
"What is the matter with you?" said Paul. He bent and took her hands,
and drew her to her feet. "Now I can look at you.--Tell me what you
mean."
"Baby came near being drowned. And it was my fault. That brought me to
my senses."
"It took you out of them!"
"I saw then that I had been thinking only of myself, my own happiness."
"Oh, it would have been some happiness, would it?" said Paul, with a
touch of sarcasm. He took her in his arms.
"Have you the least doubt about my love for you?" Eve asked.
He looked deep into her eyes, so near his own. "No, I haven't." And he
rested his lips on hers.
She did not resist, she returned his kiss. Then she left him. "It's like
death to me, but I must. I shall never marry you." She went towards her
canoe.
Paul gave a laugh. "That's a nice way to talk when I've been slaving
over the house, and got all sorts of suffocating things you'll like." He
came and took her hands off the boat's edge. "Why, Eve," he said, with
sudden passion, "a week from to-day we shall be living there together."
"Never together."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you, because it's against myself.--I haven't the strength
to tell you."
"Because it will make me think less of you? Not so much so as your
trying to slip away from me unawares."
"You think it wouldn't. But it would."
"Try me!"
She released herself from the grasp of his hands. "Oh, if the cases had
been reversed, how little _I_ should have minded! No matter what you had
done, you would have been the same to me--God knows you would! In life,
in death, before anything and everything, I should have adored you
always, you would always have come first."
"So it is with me," said Paul.
"No, it is _not_. And it's for that reason I am leaving you."
Paul made no more use of words. What she had said had left no impression
upon him--no impression of importance. He had never been so much in love
with her as at this moment.
"Don't you see how I am suffering?--I cannot bear it. Oh, leave me! let
me go! Another minute and I shall not have the strength.--Don't kiss me
again. Listen! _I_ shot Ferdie, your brother. I--I!"
Paul's arms dropped. "Ferdie? Poor Ferdie?" The tears rushed to his
eyes. "Why, some negroes did it."
"There were no negroes. It was I."
He stood there as if petrified.
With desperate courage, she launched her canoe. "You see now that I had
to go. You could not marry a woman who--Not even if she did it to
save--" She waited an instant, looking at him. He did not speak. She
pushed off, lingering a moment longer. "Forgive me for trying to deceive
you those few days," she said. Then, with quick strokes, she sent the
boat westward. After a while, she changed her position, and, taking the
other paddle, she began to row, so that she could look back the longer.
His figure remained motionless for many minutes; then he sat down on the
edge of his canoe. Thus she left him, alone under Jupiter Light.