And what I did at that, I leave it to any to guess; for Old Goodwin was gone and that other, and there was no one there save only Eve and me, under my great tree. “I thank Heaven that it is so,” I said, at last, “and what the reason is I do not care.” And, at that, the black cloud that was before the sun spilled a few drops, great drops that splashed as they struck. For it was well over us, and almost passed. Eve was distressed. “Adam,” she said, “do you believe in signs?” “Yes,” I answered, “if you like. Would you take that cloud to be a sign?” She nodded, saying nothing. “Well,” said I, rising, “so be it. But come where we can see the east, and I will interpret for you.” So she rose, too, and together we went down the steep path and along the shore. And as we went I interpreted for her in this wise. “The shadow of that cloud, Eve, that seems so black, is the shadow of a sorrow. And the cause is the behavior of your mother, who will have none of me for a son-in-law,--who says that she will not come to your wedding--if I am there. And the drops are your tears,--or hers; for I do not doubt that she has shed many tears over this same matter. But the cloud, although it is black, is not large and it is passed. Look, Eve; you can see the sun.” And as I spoke, the sun was peeping under the western edge, and we saw his disk grow until we could look at him no longer. And we were come to the bank, where the pebbles shone red in the sun. For he was near his setting. “Now,” said I, “I may have to wait some while for the rest of my interpreting.” And we waited, watching in silence, for some minutes. And the cloud was gone from above us, into the east, and there were no more drops; but under the cloud it was raining hard. And there began to form a bow: first a patch of color here and a patch there; then, gradually, the patches joined by fainter parts; then those faint parts brightened into a perfect bow with its ends dipping into the sea, and with all its colors perfect. And as we gazed there formed, within the first, another bow, and yet a third--though one must look hard to find it. “Indeed, Eve,” I said softly, “it needs no interpreter.” And Eve smiled up at me. But the marvels were not yet done; for there came broad sheaves of light that over-spread the bows, but did not hide them. And there, at the centre of the bows, was a tiny sail; and the sail was brighter than aught else, and it was as if the sheaves of light had issued from it. And above were great masses of cloud, roll upon roll, and the sun, in his setting, spread them with all manner of saffron and scarlet and crimson, and with all the delicate shades of pink that are known to man--and with many that man, with all his skill, knows nothing of. But the shadows were blue or lilac or purple. And we gazed long, until the brightness began to fade. Then Eve sighed, saying nothing. The sun had dropped behind the western hills; and the twilight faded swiftly, and the night was come.