So June was come. It was in June that my appetite for clams was become ripe; and we digged in my clam beds more than ever, and put some heart into the digging. It was Old Goodwin and I that did the digging, for the most part--he loved it--while Eve sat on the bank and watched us. Sometimes she would dig, but more often she did but watch, cheering us, the while, with observations; and, now and then, I would go and sit beside her and leave Old Goodwin. But he did not mind--did not appear to notice. Every evening, after supper, we came, Eve and I, to the bank. And Old Goodwin joined us there and we stayed until the sun was set and we had said our good-nights to him. And it befell, on an evening that was thick with fog--it is apt to be a thick fog toward the last of June--out at sea the fog lies all day, rolling in over the land by the end of the afternoon--it befell, on this evening, that I had been watching the fog. It sent its skirmishers ahead and covered the shore, only to uncover it; for the skirmisher must move fast--and it is not large, being but a skirmisher. And then would come another and hide another piece of shore--haply my point with the pine upon it; and I could see the top of the pine sticking up out of it, like a sentinel. But always the main body of the fog followed fast after, dark and dim and gray. And as it enveloped us at last, something--I know not what it was--made me turn about; and there, in the path, up under the trees, stood Eve’s mother. No doubt she thought she was safe there and would not be seen. And I saw there, for a moment, a mighty pride that struggled for its life, and grief and longing that were yet mightier. Ghost-like I saw it--but I saw it. Then it, too, was blotted out. I thought that I heard a faint cry in the fog. And Eve turned toward me, startled. “What was that, Adam?” she asked. “I thought I heard some one cry out.” “In a fog, Eve,” I answered, “one hears many strange sounds.” Old Goodwin turned and smiled at me, a smile of comprehension. So June came to an end, and July was come. And, now and then, I came again upon Mrs. Goodwin at our bank, and twice I found her on the shore near the steep path that led up to my pine. But each time, she swiftly turned, and fled so fast that I should have some trouble in catching her, save in a foot-race. And that, I thought, seemed to lack dignity. Racing along the beach after Mrs. Goodwin, as if she had been some trespasser! I laughed--which was the wrong thing to do. For she but went the faster as she heard my laugh--was well nigh running. Poor lady! To be laughed at by her son-in-law! But I was not laughing at her. I saw her shoulders shake as she were sobbing, and she put her hands up quickly to her eyes.