"This is Cicely's sister Eve," said Miss Sabrina. "She has come out--so kindly--from England to pay us a visit." Ferdinand put out his hand with a bright smile. He had a smile which would have been a fitting one for a typical figure of youthful Hope. Eve could not refuse, conspicuously, to give him her hand in return. It all seemed to her a dream--his sudden appearance in the dusky path, and his striking beauty. She did not speak. But her muteness passed unnoticed, because for once in her life Miss Sabrina was voluble, her words tumbled over one another. "Such a surprise! _So_ nice! _so_ delightful! How little we thought this morning, when we rose as usual, and everything was the same--how little we thought that it would be such a sweet, such a happy day!" Ferdinand laughed again, throwing back his handsome head a little--a movement that was habitual with him. He gave Miss Sabrina his arm, drew her hand through it and held it in his own, as they moved onward towards the house. On the veranda, Cicely was waiting for them, her cheeks flushed with pink. Eve expected a defiant look, a glance that would dare her to express either her surprise or her fear; instead of that, Cicely's eyes, meeting hers, were full of trust and sweetness, as if she believed that Eve would sympathize with her joy, as if she had entirely forgotten that there was any reason why Eve should not share it. Miss Sabrina sympathized, if Eve did not; she kissed Cicely with a motherly tenderness, and then, as she raised her wet eyes again towards Ferdinand, she looked so extraordinarily pleased that the young man bent and kissed her faded cheek. "There, auntie," he said, "now we've made acquaintance; you must take me in as a genuine nephew. And improve me." "Oh, improve," murmured Miss Sabrina, gazing at him near-sightedly. She put on her glasses (without turning her back) in order to see him more clearly. It marked a great emotion on her part--the not turning her back. Eve went to her room; she thought that Cicely would follow her. But no one came until Powlyne knocked to say that tea was ready. At first Eve thought that she would not go to the dining-room, that she would send an excuse. The next moment she felt driven not only to go, but to hasten; to be always present in order to see everything and hear everything; this would be her office; she must watch for the incipient stages of what she dreaded. Cicely had said that it happened rarely. Would to God that the man would be touched by poor Miss Sabrina's loving welcome, and by little Cicely's deep joy, and refrain. But perhaps these very things would excite the longing that led to the madness!