Cicely went on through the forest; she walked slowly, not stopping to gather flowers as usual. After a while her vague glance rested upon two figures in the distance. She stopped, and as, by chance, she was standing close beside the trunk of a large tree, her own person was concealed. The two figures were coming in her direction, they drew nearer, they paused; and then there followed a picture as old as Paris and Helen, as old as Tristram and Isolde: a lover taking in his arms the woman he adores. And it was Paul Tennant who was the lover; it was Eve who looked up at him with all her heart in her eyes. A shock passed over Cicely, the expression of her face changed rapidly as her gaze remained fixed upon Eve: first, surprise; then a strange quick anger; then perplexity. She left her place, and went rapidly forward. 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.