Suddenly Barbara started, and her heart beat fast. ‘Eve!—where is the ribbon and your mother’s ring? You used to have that ring always in your bosom. Where is it? Have you parted with that?’ Eve’s colour rose, flushing face and throat and bosom. ‘Oh, darling!’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘answer me truly. To whom have you given that ring?’ ‘I have not given it; I have lost it. You must not be angry with me, Bab. You lost yours.’ Eve’s eyes sank as she spoke, and her voice faltered. The elder sister did not speak for a moment; she looked hard at Eve, who stood up and remained before her in a pretty penitential attitude, but unable to meet her eye. Barbara considered. Whom could her sister have met? There was no one, absolutely no one she could think of, if Mr. Coyshe were set aside, but Jasper. Now Barbara had disapproved of the way in which Eve ran after Jasper before she departed for Ashburton. She had remonstrated, but she knew that her remonstrances carried small weight. Eve was a natural coquette. She loved to be praised, admired, made much of. The life at Morwell was dull, and Eve sought society of any sort where she could chatter and attract admiration and provoke a compliment. Eve had not made any secret of her liking for Jasper, but Barbara had not thought there was anything serious in the liking. It was a child’s fancy. But then, she considered, would any man’s heart be able to withstand the pretty wiles of Eve? Was it possible for Jasper to be daily associated with this fairy creature and not love her? ‘Eve,’ said Barbara gravely, ‘it is of no use trying concealment with me. I know who gave you the ring. I know more than you suppose.’ ‘Jasper has been telling tales,’ exclaimed Eve. Barbara winced but did not speak. Eve supposed that Jasper had informed her sister about the meeting with Watt on the Raven Rock. ‘Are you going to sleep again?’ asked Eve, as Barbara had cast herself back on her pillow with the face in it. The elder sister shook her head and made a sign with her hand to be left alone. When Barbara was nearly dressed, Eve stole on tiptoe out of her own room into that of her sister. She was uneasy at Barbara’s silence; she thought her sister was hurt and offended with her. So she stepped behind her, put her arms round her waist, as Barbara stood before the mirror, and her head over her sister’s shoulder, partly that she might kiss her cheek, partly also that she might see her own face in the glass and contrast it with that of Barbara. ‘You are not cross with me?’ she said coaxingly. ‘No, Eve, no one can be cross with you.’ She turned and kissed her passionately. ‘Darling! you must give back the little ring and recover that of your mother.’ ‘It is impossible,’ answered Eve.