She spoke coldly, though the advice she offered was good. She was trying hard to be kind to Eve during these difficult last hours when Paul was still so near; but though she did her best, she often failed. "You'd better not come back until nearly dark," she added; "we've got to be together through the long journey, you know." "Very well," Eve replied. It was a brilliant afternoon, the air was clear; already the woods had an autumn look. Eve paddled eastward for some time; then she came back and went out to Jupiter Light. Beaching her canoe, she strolled to and fro for a while; then she sat down. The water came up and laved the reef with a soft, regular sound, the Light loomed above her; presently a man came out of the door and locked it behind him. "Good-afternoon, mum," he said, pausing on his way to his boat. "From the camp down below, ain't yer?" "Yes." "Well, I'm going the other way _myself_. Want to be light-keeper for an hour or two?" This jocularly. It was the man who had come down with a lantern and preceded her and Paul up the stairs to the little room at the top. "There's some one else above, isn't there?" she asked. "No, mum; all three of us off ter-day. But me and John Rail'll be back afore dark; you won't tell on us, I guess?" He gave a toothless smile and pushed off, nodding slightly in farewell as the distance between them increased. He went eastward round the point; his boat was soon out of sight. Eve sat gazing at the Light; she recalled the exact tones of Paul's voice as he said, "_Don't_ you want to go up?" Then they had climbed up, and down again; and how sweet and strange and exciting it was! Then he had rowed the canoe home; how delightful it had been to sit there and feel the boat dart forward under his strong strokes in the darkness!--for night had come on while they lingered on the reef. Then she remembered her anger when he said, as he was helping her out, "I saw how much you wanted to go!" It seemed so strange that she should ever have been angry with him; she could never be so again, no matter what he might do. She tried to think of the things he might do; for instance, he might marry (she had almost said "marry again"). "I ought to wish that he might find some one--" But she could go no further, that was the end of that line of thought; she could not wish anything of the kind. She pressed her hands together in bitter, hot rebellion. But even her rebellion was without hope. She had been sitting with her feet crossed before her; she drew up her knees, put her arms upon them, and her head on her arms. She sat thus a long time. A voice said, "Eve!" 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.