Then, my work done, I sat there and looked out. And when it was time I garbed myself and set forth. And my heart-beat was too high, by far, and there was a faintness at my throat. But I strode along the shore and came to our bank, where the colored pebbles shone in the sun, ADAM and EVE. And there I sat, just where the sod breaks off to the sand, and waited. And presently there was the light step I knew so well, and up came my heart into my throat and choked me. But I stood, as a fisherman should before a governess, and turned. And such a governess! All in light, filmy white, with two red roses at her bosom, and her hair a glory. And her eyes,--there are no other such eyes as hers,--her eyes smiled at me, and then they opened wide in wonder. “Adam,” she said, “is it you? Are you my fisherman?” “Truly,” I answered, “I am your fisherman, whether you will or not,--and for as long as I have life.” “The time is not yet, fisherman,” she said. “Remember.” “It is hard to remember, governess, even for a fisherman.” “I did not know you, Adam,” she said. “You should have told me.” “What, Eve? That a fisherman may have decent raiment? But I am well-to-do--for a fisherman.” “Come,” said she, “let us go, or we shall be late to the clambake.” “With all my heart,” I answered, “though it matters not if we are late. For there is but one guest.” “There will be two, Adam.” “Two!” I cried. “I have asked but one. If it is that certain rich man, I give you warning he shall have no clams of mine, but I will cast him into the sea.” “It is my father, Adam,” she replied. “He is here and would see a clambake, so I asked him.” “Your father, Eve? Do governesses have fathers? And is he here to help you?” “I hope that he will help me,” she said. “I think he will.” And she smiled brightly. My heart grew cold, and froze beneath my ribs. “Then,” I said, “you will not need help from a fisherman, governess.” “Adam,” she said, reproaching, “let us enjoy our clambake.” “That is good doctrine, Eve,” said I, “and I will do my best. But how will your father know”-- “It is for him to find it,” she answered, “and he may, for he has eyes and a nose. Now I might find my way straight enough, for I see a smoking mound upon that point, beneath the pine. It seems a pleasant place, Adam.” “That queer fellow that I mentioned let me use it,” I said in haste. “He is from home just now.” “He seems a good friend of yours,” she said. “At times I think he is,” I said, “and at other times he is the poorest friend I know.” As we talked we walked along the shore. And we climbed the steep path and stood beneath the pine. The dome of seaweed still smoked bravely, and before the seat against the pine was set a little table, upon stakes. It was just large enough for two, and upon it were all things fitting--and no more. No cloth, only the bare white boards of pine, rubbed smooth. “Now, governess,” I said, “the bake is done. Do you sit there, and I will serve you.”