I drew the letter forth. It was characteristic of Old Goodwin--only two lines, in his rapid writing, telling of their coming, and sending love to her and Adam. Eve had had a letter like this one--about as long--twice a month; he had no time for writing more. I had seen them all; and I had noted what was missing--missing from them all. “No word from your mother, Eve?” She glanced up at me. “Not yet,” she said. “But I have no fear, Adam. She is proud and she is stubborn--but they come a month early. No, I have no fear.” And I looked out to my pine, where the hole was scooped in the ground and the seat was builded against the tree. The hole was filled full with dried leaves and other rubbish, and the seat needed some repairing. “It behooves me to see to my oven,” I said, “for as it seems to me, we are like to have a clambake soon. And I have a mind to ask Judson--and his wife.” Eve beamed at me for that. “And I may have to get some new stones.” Eve slipped her hand within my arm. “Do the stones grow cold, Adam?” she asked, softly. And that made me to remember. I stooped and kissed her. “Truly,” I answered, “the stones have been passing cold and now they grow warm again. But it does not matter about the stones, for we have kept the fire warm upon the hearth--and in our hearts, Eve. And it behooves me to look at my clam beds, too. We may watch the sunset if you will--watch it from the bank.” She rejoiced at that. “With all my heart, Adam.” So it befell that we wended, that afternoon, over to our clam beds, along the shore where the water lapped ever. And, as it chanced, the tide was low and would yet be lower; for it was a spring tide. And we walked hand in hand--for there was nobody about--and what if there were? Shall a man not hold his wife’s hand, in going along the shore? And shall he not kiss her if he will--and if she will? Though in such matters we should, no doubt, bow to convention. And, as we went, the Great Painter spread his colors as he was wont to do, and the still waters were covered with all manner of reds and purples. We saw our flats just awash and now and then there broke upon them a wave that ran across in ripples of color, and left the wet sand shining in a coat of shimmering green. For, though the water was calm, the waves yet broke upon the sands. It was a day of promise now well nigh come to an end but yet it held a promise of other days. And such a day maketh the soul of a man to rejoice--if he be in truth a man, and not a mere beast of burden--it maketh the soul of him to rejoice within him and his heart to sing; and of such as rejoice not in such a day, there is little hope.