The tranquil life went on. Every morning she said to herself, "To-day something must happen!" But the Arcadian hours continued, and two more weeks passed slowly by. Eve began to hate the sunshine, the brilliant, undimmed southern stars. "My dear, you are growing paler," said Miss Sabrina one day. "Perhaps this sea-air of ours is not good for you." Eve wanted to reply: "Is it good to be watching every instant?--to be listening and starting and thinking one hears something?" "You are right; it is not," she answered aloud; "all the same, I will stay awhile longer, if you will let me." "Oh, my dear--when we want you to _live_ here!" "Perhaps I shall die here," Eve responded, with a laugh. Miss Sabrina looked at her in surprise; for the laugh was neither gentle nor sweet. Eve was tired, tired mentally and physically; this state of passive waiting taxed her; action of some sort, even though accompanied by the hardest conditions, would have been easier to her ardent unconquered will. She occupied herself with Jack; she said as little as she could to Ferdie; and she watched Cicely. Underneath this watchfulness there grew up a strong contempt for love. X. "Eve!" A hand on Eve's shoulder. Eve sat up in bed with a start; Cicely stood beside her, candle in hand. "Help me to dress Jack," she said. Eve was out of bed in an instant. She lighted her own candle. Cicely lifted the sleeping child from his crib, and began hastily to dress him. Eve brought all the little garments quickly. "Are you going to take him out of the house?" she asked. (They spoke in whispers.) "Yes." Eve threw on her own clothes. After a moment, during which the hands of both women moved rapidly, Eve said, "Where is he?" "Outside--out of the house for the moment. But he will come back; and then, if he comes down this hall, we must escape." "Where? We must have the same ideas, you know," said Eve, buttoning her dress, and taking her hat and shawl from the wardrobe. "I thought we could go through the ballroom, and out by the north wing." "And once outside?" "We must hide." "But where?" "In the thicket." "It isn't a very large space. Supposing Jack should cry?" Cicely went on fastening Jack's little coat. "I can't talk!" "You needn't," said Eve; "I'll take care of you!" The hasty dressing completed, the two candles were extinguished. Jack had fallen asleep again. Cicely held him herself; she would not let Eve take him. They opened the door softly, and stood together outside in the dark hall. The seconds passed and turned into minutes; the minutes became three, then five; but the space of time seemed a half-hour. Eve, standing still in the darkness, recovered her coolness; she stepped noiselessly back into her room for a moment or two; then she returned and resumed the watch. Cicely's little figure standing beside her looked very small.