And she said no word more, but there we stood together. And we saw the blue brighten and become suffused with pink, and there in the eastern sky lay a great rose that stretched its petals to the zenith. And in the heart of that rose was a little cloud like a flame, with one long finger pointed straight at Eve and me. And all those soft tints of blue and pink, with the flame of the little cloud, were spread upon the water that was but just stirring in its sleep, and dimpling here and there. Then was the little flame-cloud edged with gold upon its lower side, and shot through with orange lights, and the pink rose turned to saffron and then to orange, and the rim of the sea was luminous, like molten gold. And on a sudden the gold and orange fled from the little cloud, and a great blazing fire showed above the sea. “The sun, Eve,” I whispered; and as I spoke, a little breeze flashed across the water and darkened it like a breath upon a mirror. And there was the great disk of the sun half risen, and we might no longer look him in the face. And at that Eve fetched a great sigh, and turned, and the chorus of the birds broke forth in the trees behind us. They had been calling back and forth before, but now they sang madly. The old earth had waked once more, and it was day. “Adam,” said Eve, “I thank you.” Then she sat upon the bank, where the colored pebbles still marked the names, and I sat there beside her; and for some while we spoke not, but listened to the mad music of the birds. Then Eve would dig for clams. “What matter, Eve?” I asked. “The clams will be the bigger for waiting. We have seen the dawn, and we may see the day grow.” “Yes,” she said, “we have seen the dawn. I did not dream it could be like that. There are no words, Adam. And I would see the day grow. But for my conscience’ sake I must dig.” “Eve,” I said, “a conscience is a most distressing comrade. Does a governess have a conscience--a governess to the Rich?” “Does not a fisherman?” she asked. “He cannot afford it,” I replied. “It is a luxury not for the poor nor for the very rich.” “But a governess is not very rich. And if she were, she yet might have a conscience. I have.” “And does it plague you?” “Yes,” she said. “Come, let us dig, and I will tell you.” I, too, had somewhat that I would tell, and presently we were digging. And Eve dug in silence, and gently, for she would not harm the clams. “Well, Eve?” I said, when I was wearied of the silence. She was so long in speaking that I feared she never would. “Adam,” she asked, at last, “are you a wise man?” “Very,” I answered; “wiser than Solomon. He had seven hundred wives, and I have none.” “And is that wise,--to have none?” “Eve, Eve,” I cried, “you do not help me. I jest because I fear to speak in earnest.” “You are good, Adam,” she said. “And if you are wise, you may tell me what to do.” “If you would do what I tell you!”