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ADAM AND EVE
IJV TIIK AUTHOR OF
'DOROTHY fox; AND 'THE PRESCOTTS OF
PAMPHILLOX.'
IX THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON :
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,
J3iibli5hcv5 in (Dil)inari) to ^)cr ^1.tjc5tn the Queen.
1880.
lAll Rio his A\'Sc-nrJ.]
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2009 with funding from
University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
http://www.archive.org/details/adameve01parr
ADAM AND EYE.
CHAPTER I.
OWARDS the close of a July
evening, in the upper room of
a house, which stood in one
of London's narrowest thoroughfares, a
woman sat striving to penetrate the
tangled perplexities of her future.
Her hands were idle ; her eyes rested
on a low chair with a rail back and a
VOL. I. 1
ADAM AND EVE.
patch-work cushion, her mother's chair, in
which she had been wont to see a
tender face and frail, bent figure ; but
now in place of that loved form there rose
before her a solitary mound of newly-
turned earth ; and a sense of her utter
desolation sweeping oyer her, Eve Pascal
flung herself down in an agony of tears,
and let the torrent of her grief run
dry.
Then she arose, stretching out her
arms as if in mute entreaty to some in-
visible presence, and took a step nearer
the window, straining her eyes to catch
sight of the sky, the very light of which
was obscured and blotted out by the mass
of chimneys from warehouses and work-
shops.
From the window, Eve let her gaze
wander round the small room, incon-
ADAM AND EVE.
veniently filled with heavy furniture,
treasured by her mother as bearing tes-
timony to former thrift and respectable
belongings, for Mrs. Pascal had come of
a family who had seen better days, in
right of which they could never overlook
that their orphan cousin had thrown
herself away on a common seafaring
man who had nothing but his handsome
face and his dare-devil stories to set before
her ; and although the despised husband
never returned from the voyage, during
which Eve was born, the relations
saw in this no cause to restrain their
tongues nor alter their judgment, and the
sore-hearted widow, resenting these con-
tinual jobations, gradually withdrew her-
self from her family, until not only had
all communication ceased between them,
1—2
ADAM AND EVE.
but their very existence was no longer
known to her.
As Eve's gaze fell successively on a
tall eight-day clock, with a brass-bound
chest of drawers on one side, and a corres-
ponding but more bulky set on the other,
she gave an audible sigh.
^You'll try and keep the furniture
together, Eve ?' her mother had said.
And Eve had promptly answered,
^Yes,' in that spirit which then forbade
her to think of gainsaying the slightest
request which Mrs. Pascal might make ;
the same spirit still filled the girl's heart,
but her mind was troubled, and her
thoughts oppressed, by the narrow loneli-
ness of the life which, if she remained
here, she saw spread out before her.
Mrs. Pascal had supported herself
by clear - starching and fine - mending ;
ADAM AND E VE.
she had tauL»'ht her daiio'hter enous^h to
enable her to gain a Uving by the same
employment, but up to the time of her
mother's illness, although never refusing
her assistance, Eve had not taken
kindly to needlework. No sooner, how-
ever, did she feel that the responsibility
of providing for her mother's comfort
depended on her exertions, than she sat
down with the most willing alacrity, and
managed the little business so deftly and
so well, that a great load was lifted from
the widow's heart, and she rested assured
that she might lay aside all anxiety on
the score of her child's future daily
bread.
But the work which had been a pleasure
then, had become an irksome labour now ;
the monotony of the quiet employment
was unendurable. Death had snapped
ADAM AND EVE.
asunder the bondage to which love had
submitted, and, without any power to
oppose it, the girl's nature asserted itself
and refused to continue longer its course
of uneventful existence. Up to the morn-
ing of the previous day, these longings and
yearnings after freedom had been hope-
less, but an unlooked-for letter had
changed the whole current of events,
and had sent her pent-up thoughts and
wishes hurrying off through a thousand
new and unexplored channels.
This letter had come from her uncle,
her father's half-brother, in ansv/er to a
letter she had sent announcing her
mother's death. Eve had written this
letter in compliance with her mother's
request — a request made because it had
seemed, to Mrs. Pascal's mind, a respect
due to her husband's memory that his
ADAM AND EVE.
family should be told of her death, and
thereby know that there was one the less
to bear their name.
Beyond the fact that her husband had a
brother and some cousins living in an out-
of-the-way village in Cornwall, Mrs. Pascal
knew nothing of these relations. She
had written to them when the news of
Andrew's death came, telling them that
she was left with one child, a girl ; and
had received a reply that if ' she'd come
down and live among them, they'd do for
her and the little maid.' Eut the stories
which her husband had told of his native
village, and the life lived there, had
filled the town-bred wife with horror;
and, though she thanked them for their
kind offer, she felt she would sooner
bes: her bread in London than live at
ease with those, who, to use her hus-
ADAM AND EVE.
band's words, ' feared neither God nor
devii;
Since this letter, no further communica-
tion had passed between them ; and when
Eve had written her sad announce-
ment, it was with a strono; feehnof that
in all probability this uncle was long
ago dead, and that (only she had given
her mother the promise) she might well
spare herself the trouble of sending the
letter.
A fortnight passed by, and now an
answer had come, couched in very much the
same words, and containing an offer very
similar to that which, some twenty years
before, Mrs. Pascal had refused : namely^
that if Eve would come and see them,
they would make her welcome for as long
as she liked to stay.
As Eve read this letter, her face
ADAM AND EVE.
flushed with excitement ; for a time the
burden of her grief was lifted oft* her heart,
and her quick imagination carried her at
once to the far-off* village where * the
houses were washed by the waves, the
rocks rose high as mountains, and you
could stand at your door and see the great
ships sail by.'
Eve's pulse quickened at the picture,
for she was a sailor's child, and her in-
heritance was the love that is born in the
hearts of those Avhose fathers, and their
fathers before them, have gone down to
the sea in ships, and seen the wonders of
the deep.
Mrs. Pascal's recollections of the stories
her husband had told, had been unwittingly
kept alive by the interest his daughter took
in them. The storms, the wrecks, the tales of
hair-breadth escapes, and of drowned men^
10 ADAM AND EVE.
which made the mother's heart beat with
fear, filled Eve with excitement, and
wonder that her father should have left
that life for such dull security as they
possessed.
It never occurred to her to propose that
her mother should leave London ; such a
thing would have seemed not only im-
probable, but impossible. In those days,
unless some great event befell them,
people lived and died where they
were born ; necessity was the only re-
cognised obligation for leaving one place
to go to another, and any desire to roam
was looked upon as the offs]oring of an
ill-regulated disposition. Therefore it was
only at such moments as these that
Eve gave expression to the wish which
leavened her inmost thoughts, and coloured
with romance her idle dreams — to go out
ADAM AND EVE. 11
into the world, to see people she had never
seen before, to live some life other than
the daily routine of dull respectability, to
have jo3^s and sorrows springing out of
unforeseen accidents and stransre emer-
o
gencies, to be the centre of hopes and
fears. These and a hundred more ex-
travagant longings had lain smouldering
in Eve's breast, to be set ablaze by
this letter, which seemed to open out the
way leading to the new existence after
which she so greedily thirsted. There was
but one drawback, and that was the know-
ledge that, in accepting her uncle's offer,
she would be acting in direct opposition
to her mother's wishes — not her expressed
wishes — for the possibility of such an offer
had never occurred to Mrs. Pascal's mind ;
although, had it done so, she would have
felt perfectly secure that Eve would
12 ADAiM AND EVE,
never entertain the thoug^ht of leavinsf the
place where she had been brought up and
had friends, to live dependent upon rela-
tions whose ways were more in keeping
with the godless heathens than the re-
pec'table people of a Christian countr}^.
But Eve well knew that, if her
mother w^ere alive, she would never have
ventured to propose the step she now
contemplated, and this fact alone was
weighty enough to set the balance
trembling between this and her future
happiness.
^ What could I do with, the furniture X
she said, with a despondent movement of
her hands.
' Perhaps Keuben w^ould take care of
it,' suggested that temporising spirit
always at hand when battle wages between
duty and inclination. ' You need only
ADAM AND EVE. 13
go for a time,' insinuated the tempter ;
' and the room behind his shop is always
empty.'
Eve frowned ; she admitted the
suggestion, but dishked the expedient,
feehno^ she had no riHit to ask a favour
from a man who needed but encourage-
ment to ask, on his part, a boon which she
could never grant. But the tare of desire
Avas already springing up, choking the re-
solutions she had so recently made ; aiid
before another hour passed by, Eve
was resolved to write and tell her uncle
that she accepted his offer, for a time at
least, and that she would start for Polperro
as soon as she had safely housed, with a
friend, the furniture which her mother
had bidden her keep. Then she took out
her hat, and prepared to get ready to go on
an errand which would take her through
14 ADAM AND EVE.
the street, at the far end of which was a
small shop, bearing over ifc the name
of ^Eeuben May, Watch and Clock-
maker.'
CHAPTEK II.
I HE owner of this shop, Keuben
May, was a young man rather
below the middle size, with a
thin, spare figure and an earnest, thought-
ful face ; his complexion w^as sallow, and
his features by no means good, except his
forehead which was broad and well shaped,
and his eyes which were bright and pene-
trating.
From boyhood Reuben had shown a
sober, studious disposition, and to this, as
16 ADAM AND EVE.
he grew older, he added an independence
of thought and opinion which attracted
him towards the then fast-increasing body
of Methodists. It was through this
common bond of reUgious opinion that
Beuben's acquaintance with Mrs. Pascal
had been brought about. They had fallen
into speaking and hand-shaking through
sittincr near to each other in the little
chapel which both frequented ; this had
led to walking home together, discussing
the sermon and the minister, until, from
a certain sympathy of thought and opinion,
a feeling of friendship sprung up between
them, and Mrs. Pascal, seeing that the
young fellow had no relations and few, if
any, friends, had invited him to come to
her house, an invitation which Keuben
readily accepted, and had so completely
benefited by that at the time of her death,
A DAM AND EVE. 17
next to her daughter, the chief mourner at
the widow's humble grave had been
Reuben M?ty.
When, from necessity. Eve was
obhged to carry home her work, Keuben
would often take her jDlace by the sick
woman's bed, and at such times open his
heart with a frankness he had never before
shown ; tell her of his aspirations, his
failinofs, and his weaknesses, the stronofest
of which he confessed, with some shame-
facedness, to be an overpowering love for
her daughter Eve, which, in spite of
scanty encouragement and small hope of
return, he found himself unable to over-
come.
Poor Mrs. Pascal ! it was no slio-ht
task to withhold herself from giving some
small encourao^ement to the furtherance of
a union, the accomplishment of which had
VOL. I. L, 2
1 8 ADAM AND E VE.
been one of the fondest desires of her heart.
For months her eyes had never fallen on
these two Avithout the wish coming that
their lives might be united in marriage ;
but the nearer she approached that time
when all earthly interests must be given
up, the firmer grew her conviction that this
wish of her heart had best be abandoned.
Feeling sore at the disappointment, she
had on almost the last occasion of these
confidences told Reuben, that many a
time she had had it in her mind to chide
him for not having more cunning in
his speech to Eve ; and Reuben
had regretfully acknowledged the too
frequent sharpness of a tongue very
prone to give oflfence, for, unluckily for the
success of Reuben's suit, his love had eyes,
and his religion was in that stage when
zeal is apt to run ahead of discretion.
ADAM AND EVE. 19
Did but the suspicion of a shadow come
into her mother's face, and Eve's quick
retort or stinging repartee was swallowed
down and repented of; but she desired
that her words should be as thorns and
nettles to Reuben's outspoken censures and
rebukes ; and if she could but discover she
was causing a smart, fresh fuel was added
to the fire of her tongue. And yet, know-
ing this, seeing her motive, and wincing
under her utter disregard of his annoyance.
Eve was dearer to him than all the
world ; his heart craved after her love, and
lay as a stone within him in presence of
any other woman.
As he sat on this June evening close up
to the small window, apparently engrossed
in repairing the cog-wheel of the watch he
held in his hand, any one might have
said, there was a man very far re-
2—2
20 ADAM AND EVE.
moved from the rose-tinted region of
romance. Yet the God-sent gift of love
had been lodged within his breast, and was
spreading its halo over all he saw and did.
Mechanically he turned over his tools
and found the one best suited to his work ;
but even while he did so, he was looking
on a vision in which his heart was no
longer solitary, neither was his lot lonely.
Hand in hand he and his elect walked
through life, and lo ! earth with its toil-
some roads and cloudy skies became para-
dise ; and as he still dreamed on, a voice
close by awakened him, and, looking up,
the Eve of this Eden stood before
him.
' Why, Reuben, you seemed scared,' she
said, smiling at the dazed look on the
young man's face.
' And no wonder,' he replied, quickly re~
ADAM AND EVE. 21
covering himself, ' for I do believe this is
the first time you've ever put foot inside
my place !'
' I wanted to have a little talk with
you/ said Eve, ignoring the slight re-
proach which Keuben's words were meant
to convey ; ^ and I thought, as I had to
go out, I'd come round by here and ask
you if you'd much to do this evening ?'
* Nothing that'll hinder anything you
may want of me,' returned Heuben,
promptly ; ^ the light's all but gone, and,
anyway, I should have been thinking of
shutting up in the course of a half
hour or so. Could you step inside for the
value of ten minutes ?' he asked, lifting up
the portion of the counter which covered
the entrance partition.
To his surprise Eve stepped through,
and, Keuben having cleared a chair, she
22 ADAM AND EVE.
seated herself, while he returned to what
was, after this, but a mere pretence of
finishing his work.
* You've a nice-sized room here/ observed
Eve, taking a critical survey of the
apartment.
' Fairish/ said Reuben, endeavouring to
keep under the thumping of his heart,
which rendered ordinary conversation
somewhat trying.
' It would take plenty more than you've
got in it now 1' continued Eve, inter-
rogatively,
* Oh yes ! no doubt but it would hold a
thing or two more,' said Reuben, very
fierce with himself for being put out of
countenance by this slim young thing, who
could look at him and his belongings with
the most enviable composure.
He would not allow himself to be
ADAM AND EVE. '2.'^
mastered ; it was against all reason that he,
Keuben May, who could hold his own, ah !
and better than his own, with most men he
knew, should be set trembling like an
aspen leaf because of a pale face and a pair
of grey eyes ; the thing was ridiculous,
and, to prove it, he took up one tool after
another, examining them critically, and
whistling the w^hile with an air of the most
abstracted unconcern.
An expression of vexation^ then of dis-
appointment, 2^^s^Gcl over Eve's face ;
that was not the way men took love.
Surely Reuben could not care for her so
much as she had counted upon, or he
would never sit whistling there, and she
close by.
Although not favourably disposed to-
wards the lover, Eve coveted the love ;
she wanted to see some one racked with
•24 ADAM AND EVE.
torture, driven to despair, called into life
by a smile, and killed by a frown. This
was love read by the index of her own
passionate nature, for Eve had nothing
else to teach her ; she knew no ex-
perience, no books to tell her how many a
strange disguise the blind god walks under.
As she felt, Reuben ought to feel, that is,
if he loved her ; and if not, then came the
temptation to make him, and this impulse
made her throw a touch of sadness into her
voice as she said :
' In spite of what you say, Reuben, I
see that you are busy to-night, and I
mustn't expect that you are going to give
up your time to me whenever I may want
any little thing of you ; but, you see, I
haven't got anybody, as it were, to go to —
not now.'
But before the ^^now' came trembling
ADAM AND EVE.
out, Reuben had recklessly swept away all
his tools, had jumped up, pushed back his
chair, and was making a dash towards the
outer place where he kept the shutters.
* I won't be a minute, Eve,' he said.
* I haven't got nothing to do, indeed I
haven't ; and then I shall be ready to go
anywhere, wherever 3^ou like, with you. I
ain't busy a bit ; I wasn't doing anything ;
I was only thinking — of — something.'
Eve gave a reassured smile, and
then, seeing he was pausing to know her
•wishes, she said :
* I do want to have a talk with you, and
I thought, if you wouldn't mind it, we
might go to Holloway, and then I could
speak to you as w^e went along.'
Reuben gave a ready acquiescence, and
only detaining Eve while he smartened-
np his appearance in keeping with the
26 ADAM AND EVE.
honour of the occasion, they started off for
St. Mark's churchyard, in a corner of
which was Mrs. Pascal's humble grave.
Engrossed by the separate interests which
filled their minds, 'they had gone a con-
siderable distance without a word beinof
exchanged between them. Suddenly
Reuben awoke to this fact, and, doubtful
how his companion might be affected by
it, he cast a somewhat disturbed glance in
her direction ; but, instead of displeasure,
he was reassured with a smile, which
accepting as a good omen, he resolved to
turn to immediate account, and at once
made a desperate plunge by saying :
* Love's a queer sort of a thing, Eve,
isn't it r
' Queer '?' she said, with a surprised
look ; ' how queer, Reuben X
' Why, in its ways it is. It comes to
ADAM AND E VE. 27
you whether you will or not, and it settles
on the one it makes choice of, no matter
what you have to say for or against it.'
* Oh, I don't think that would ever be
your case ;' and Eve pursed up her
lips and gave a decided shake of her
head. ' You always tell me that every
right-minded person acts from principle,
and has no doubt about choosing right
from wrong ; and of course you speak from
experience.'
Keuben tried to Waive the thrust by
saying :
* That's a very good rule, but, you know,
every rule has an exception ;' and he
gave a sigh, as he looked towards her,
which seemed to say the exception in his
case had come now. ^ Only you just look
here, now,' he said, after a few minutes
spent in silent debate as to the best mode
28 ADAM AND EVE.
of entering upon the difficulties of his
subject; ^supposing I was to set you to
pick out among all the young women you
see — say at chapel, then — the one you
thought was best fitted to be my wife,
what's the sort of one you'd fix upon, eh ?
Come, give me your idea of the right sort
of woman for me to take !'
' Oh, I know exactly/ returned Eve
promptly, conjuring up a vision of a cer-
tain Tamson Walters, whose propriety and
decorum had often been held up to her as
a model which she might fitly follow.
^ She ought to be short and square, with
a little fat face, and light-blue eyes, and
her mouth ought to be buttoned-up so, and
her nose turned up like that.'
' Come, never mind her looks/ laughed
Heuben, forced into recognising the in-
tended caricature. ' When a man's got
ADAM AND EVE. 29
matrimony in his eye, he mustn't only
look skin-deep ; if he does, he deserves the
doll he's sure to get.'
^ Oh, but wait, I'm going on to the rest/
for Eve was anxious to do justice to
her rival's peculiarities. ' Only you must
let me draw her my own way, you know.
I'm always obliged to describe the outside
as well as the inside of a person I want
other peoj)le to see. Of course she must
have experienced conversion, and so be
able to rebuke those whose hearts are still
d'velling in sin, which is certain to be the
case if they don't push back all their hair,
and hide it, like she does, under a hideous
net cap with no border.'
Reuben gave a reproving shake of his
head.
* Come, that'll do/ he said ; ' I know
who you're pointing to, and all I say is, I
30 ADAM AND E VE.
wish all women were made out of such
good stuff as Tamsoii Walters is. The
man who calls her wife, I shall call a lucky
chap/
^ Then w4iy don't you let that man
be yourself?' said Eve. ' I'm sure, if
you ask her, she couldn't say less than
^' Verily I will " to her dear brother
Reuben.'
And the manner of her mimicry, as she
folded her hands and let drop her eyes, was
so bewitching, that all the reproof Reuben
had ready to say died on his lips ; and
looking at her with eyes which told his
tale far more eloquently than words, he
said :
^ But suppose I don't want her to say
^' yes." Suppose I'm foolish enough to
set my heart on somebody who can tease
me into a rage one minute^ and set me in a
ADAM AND EVE. 31
good temper the next — who one hour I
say I never want to see any more, and the
next I'm counting the minutes that'll bring
the time when we'll meet ao-ain — who
worries and torments me so, that do what
I can, I can't get her out of my head by
night nor day — who's got more faults
than anybody I ever knew, and yet if I
was asked how I'd have her altered, I
could not tell you, for the life of me. Ah,
Eve, you may well laugh !' he ex-
claimed, reflectinof the smile which had
overspread her face ; ' for if I was to talk
from now to next week, I could never
make you know the great fool you've
made and are still making of me.'
^ I V the smile turned into an expression
of the most bewildered astonishment ;
' why, what have I got to do with it,
E-euben V
32 ADAM AND EVE.
' What have you got to do with it ?
as if you didn't know all the time I was
talking about you — that's just one of your
teasing ways; why, the minute I began
you knew what was sticking in my throat
and wouldn't come out. You've known
for twelve months and more what I've
been wanting to say, only that I saw the
foolishness of it ; and, as far as that goes,
I see it still, but I can't get over it. Oh,
Eve ! you're as the very apple of my
eye !' he said, with increasing earnestness.
' Sometimes I think it must be the allure-
ments of the devil, and then I'm for putting
it down to the workings of the Almighty ;
anyway, all I know is, I can't battle
against it any longer — it's mastered me
altogether ; and though I promised your
mother I'd act by you like a brother, and
put aside all the rest, I can't do it,
ADAM AND EVE. 33
Eve, that I can't. Unless you'll pro-
mise to settle down into trying to make
up your mind to marry me, I must go
away far off from here to some place
where I shan't see nor hear of you
agfain/
Eve's heart leaped up in triumph. He
did love her then, and in spite of him-
self, too. This man, who was always
teaching and reproving, and trying to be
her master, was after all her slave. For
a moment every other feeling was swal-
lowed up in victory — but oidy for a
moment — for pity was already near, and
in another instant was clamourinsf so loud
that Eve had to ask its name before she
could assure herself the voice she heard
was not the subtle voice of love.
' Oil, Reuben !' she said, ' why didn't
you tell me all this before ?'
VOL. I. 3
34 ADAM AND EVE.
^ I thought you knew it,' he said.
' No, I didn't quite know it. I used to
think sometimes that you cared a Httle ;
and then something would come and I'd
think you didn't. Of course I saw you
liked to talk to me and that — but I
didn't know that what you felt was real
love !'
^ Keal love ?' he echoed. ' What do
women know about real love ? A little
dribbling fondness for somebody who can
make them pretty speeches, that's all they
feel. While I — I've wrestled with love
as 'twere a oiaiit, and the o^iant has
thrown me so that I lie on the ground
helplesS;, and whether 'tis best to hope for
life or death from ^^ou, God knows — I
don't !'
And he stood for a few moments all but
mastered by his emotion. A little sigh
ADAM AND EVE. 35
escaped Eve, and the sound seemed to
arouse Keuben, and bring him back to
the present.
* Mine's a queer kind of courting,
Eve,' he said, looking up and meeting
her troubled face. ' 1 know I ain't saying
a bib what I ought to, to you, but for all
that I've got it in my heart to try to make
you comfortable ; and you should have all
I could give you, and not more to do than
you'd a mind to do. As far as I could
make it, your life should go easy with you,
Eve.'
' Easy with me ?' she cried contemp-
tuously ; ' as if I cared for sitting still all
my life— doing nothing, seeing nothing,
beincr nothinof I'
* It ain't a bad sort of life though. Eve.
I don't see that a woman wants much
more.'
3—2
36 ADAM AND E VE.
' Oh, don't you ! But there, it's no good
you and me beginning to argue, Reubei) ;
or I should say I don't see how a man
can want so Httle as to sit indoors all day
over the mending of a few clocks and
watches. Oh, if I'd been a man, do you
think I'd have been contented to be nothing
more than a clockmaker ?'
' Who says I'm contented to be nothing
but a clockmaker ?' said Heuben, quickly.
^ 'Tisn't because I'm not one of your blood-
thirsty chaps w^ith a nose for powder and
an eye always cocked for seeing daylight
through my fellow-creatures, that I'm con-
tented to sit quiet by and see the world go
round me. I often believe that if it wasn't
for you, Eve, I should have turned my
mind on something else long before this.'
' Do you ? she said, with surprise.
' Why, what else could you do, Eeuben ?'
ADAM AND EVE. 37
* What else could I do V he repeated.
* Well, a good many things that I don't
think small of, though I don't suppose any
would make me cut a much better figure
in jour eyes.'
For a minute Eve did not answer, then,
she said :
' I've been thinkino: whether I couldn't
be of some use to somebody. I've heard
dear mother tell of women who have
worked wonders, and done good among
people who wouldn't hear a word from a
man.'
* Ah, they were women of your mother's
sorb, though,' said Heuben, seizing on this
opportunity for retaliation. ' You ain't a
bit like her in any way.'
' Of course, I know I'm not half so
good,' said Eve, not over-pleased with this
candour, ' nor never shall be.'
38 ADAM AND EVE.
' Never !' said Reuben, decisively. ' So
it wouldn't be of any use your trying any-
thing of that sort. You might be seeming
to convert a man so long as he liad some
hopes of marrying you, but,' he added,
' take my word for it, it wouldn't last
longer than that.'
' Oh, I know you've a very poor opinion
of what women can do.' said Eve.
* No, I haven't,' replied Reuben ; ' that
is, so long as they do well what they were
ordained for — sitting in their own houses.
mending the clothes, and tending the
children.'
And he gave a little inward chuckle over
the nettle he was proving himself to
Eve.
For a moment Eve was bent on find-
ing an equally smart retort, but a sud-
den thouofht told her that she held a
ADAM AND EVE, 39
sharper weapon to pierce Reuben with,
than the mere bandying of words could be.
So, affecting her most placid smile, she
said blandly :
* Thank you, Reuben, for showing me
the life your wife will have to lead. I'm
much obliged for the offer, but you'll ex-
cuse me saying that the situation wouldn't
suit me.'
' Oh, very well,' said Reuben, trying to
smother his love, in his vexation with him-
self and his anger against her ; ' then my
course is chalked out for me very clear.
Off I go — the farther away the better — to
some place where I can't ever see or hear
of you again.'
And as he jerked out the words, he
involuntarily turned to see how such an
appaUing announcement was affecting her.
Not very much, apparently, for the smile
40 ADAM AND E VE.
had become more triumphant, as, seizing
the opportunity, she pointed her sharpest
arrow by saying :
' Please don't do anything rash on my
account, particularly as there's no need for
it, for the thing I had to tell you was that
I'm going away myself. My uncle in
Cornwall has written up for me to go
down there and Hve with him among my
father's people.'
* But you won't go ?' exclaimed Reuben,
forgetting all his own lately-vaunted re-
solutions.
' Why shouldn't I go V said Eve. ' IVe
nothing nor nobody to keep me where
I am.'
'But/ said Reuben, ' haven't you heard
your mother speak of them as a wild
rough lot who she shuddered to think of ?
Nonsense, Eve, what would a girl like
ADAM AND EVE. 41
you do amongst such a set as you'd find
there V
* Do ? A great deal of good, perhaps ;
and if not/ she added, seeing the look
^vhich came into Reuben's face, ' what
harm could they do me V
' What harm could they do you V he
repeated slo^yly. ' Why, Eve, surely you
know that next to doing bad deeds your-
self, comes the lending countenance to
them who do .them. As I heard Howell
Harris say, '^ As w^ell eat the devil, as the
broth he's boiled in." '
* I've only promised to go down and
see them,' said Eve, somewhat disturbed
by Reuben's plain speaking. ' I needn't
stay more than a year, unless I like.
Come,' she continued, seeking reassurance,
^ there can't much harm happen in a year,
Heuben V
42 ADAM AND EVE.
*More than you think,' he repHed
gravely.
Then, after standing for a minute silent,
he burst out with :
' A whole year 1 — never to see you —
speak to you — know where you are, or
what you're turning to ? — oh ! it's cruel —
cruel ! Why should Providence deal so
hard with me ? What have I ever done
that all my heart should be set like
this upon one who doesn't care a brass
button for its love or its hate V
The tone of these words, and the look of
anguish E-euben's face wore as he spoke
them, touched Eve's, and she said :
* Oh, Reuben, don't say that ; it isn't
kind — after all you've done for me, too. I
do care for you very much, but how was
I to know what you felt ? Why didn't
you speak to me like this before ? Then,
ADAM AND EVE. 4a
I don't know, it might have been different ;
but instead of that you've always spoken
to me so off-hand-Hke, that I thought you
fancied love was a thing to be ashamed
of.'
^ Well, and so my love did make me
ashamed,' returned Keubcn, fiercely ; ' and
well it might, when I saw it was only
made a lauo-hinir-stock and a ieer of.
Why, haven't I seen you turn up your
nose if by chance I so much as mentioned
the word love ?'
The colour came up into Eves face,
and, with a little confusion, she answered :
' Indeed, Reuben, if I seemed to do that,
'twas only pretending, and for fear you
should guess some of the silly thoughts
I have in my head when I sit romancing.'
* Oh, hang romancing !' exclaimed Keuben,
pettishly ; ^ it's death and destruction to
44 ADAM AND E VE.
truth and commonplace sober reality.
Life's too short, and time's too precious^ to
be spent in picturing up a pack of beaux
and dandies that '
' Oh, you don't understand me, Reuben,'
said Eve, hopelessly.
^No, nor I never shall while you're up
there in the clouds ; though sometimes I
think ' — and he turned on her face a look
saddened, yet full of admiration — ' that
it's the most fitting place for such an angel
as you seem to me.'
'Who's romancing now, I should like
to know ?' exclaimed Eve, her vanity
touched by Reuben's rarely acknowledged
tribute to her good looks.
' Why me, of course ! Oh, you've but
to pull the right string, and your puppet
will dance to whatever tune you choose to
play. Though, so far as romance goes,
ADAM AND EVE. 4&
'tis an old ehiiin of mine, and until think-
ing of you drove out all chance of thinking
of anything else from my precious head,
has helped me to get through many a dull
day.'
Eve gave a little smile of amused
content ; she had never before so much
enjoyed a walk with Keuben. Her tickled
vanity set her pit}^ in motion, and she
began to feel so much compassion that it
made her quite sorry to think she was
going away from him. It seemed, too, so
hard to crush all this despair — to take
away from him all plea for suffering any
more.
What could she do to adjust matters to
a better balance ? Aslc him to wait ? Tell
him she would give him his answer at the
end of the year when she came back %
Acting on this suggestion, Eve spoke at
46 ADAM AND EVE.
once, fearing, if slie hesitated, that the
whisper of a conscience which disapproved
this action would make itself heard, and
she should be forced into being honest,
and obliged to give Keuben now his final
' No/
Therefore it happened that when they
parted that evening, an understanding had
been entered into between them, that,
though there was no engagement on either
part, each was bound, in case of change,
to render an account of his or her feelings
to the other.
CHAPTER III.
OW, under ordinary circumstances,
and once secure that he pos-
sessed her love, Reuben would
have willingly served his seven years for
Eve, feeling a certain satisfaction that there
was to be a f)ei'iod of probation, during
which time he should be able to regain
that mastery over himself which this pre-
sent all-absorbing state of love seemed to
have completely wrested from his grasp.
Reuben prided himself on his calm un-
48 ADAM AND EVE.
emotional temperament, and it chafed him
not a little to find his natm^e subverted and
his volition destroyed because of a fair face
whose smile or frown made his joy or sor-
row. His reason yet remained sufficiently
independent, and often in his calmer
moments the conviction was still forced
upon him that, seeing how widely Eve's
principles and opinions differed from his
own, his sensibility ought to have con-
tinued subservient to his judgment, and,
until he had convinced her that her way
of viewing things was false, and her
arguments unsound, he ought never to
have urged her to become the partner of
his home.
Disputation was Reuben's forte, and it
was a matter of great wonderment to many
why he did not give up his business, which
was not over successful, and adopt the voca-
ADAM AND EVE. 49
tion of a lay preacher, for which he seemed
so evidently suited.
Reuben often dwelt upon this possibility
himself, and ^^'as somewhat surprised that
he should feel so lukewarm towards a call-
ing, which in others had for him many
attractions ; but the secret of his indif-
ference, perhaps, lay in this fact, that for
him to be a preacher seemed an easy
matter, a thing at hand to be taken up any
day, while the business by which he earned
his daily bread had not, so fiir, proved a
happy choice. If he gave it up. Fate,
Providence, or whatever name we give to
the power which orders the everyday events
of our life, would have proved too strong for
him, and he would have to confess himself
defeated, and defeat of any kind was most
unpalatable to Reuben May ; indeed, so far
as his personal concerns went, it was a word
VOL. I. 4
50 ADAM AND E VE.
to which he would give no meaning ; he had
no tolerance for failure, and no pity for those
who failed. Why should people fail ? he
had never failed, and nobody had ever
helped him. Both his parents had died
when he was a boy, leaving him to shift
for himself, and so good a shift had he
made that, since that time, he had, unaided
and alone, supported himself, taught him-
self, apprenticed himself, and had finally,
by his own exertions, scraped together the
small sum needed to open his little shop
with.
His argument was, that what others had
done he could do, and what he had done
others could do ; a reasoning which out-
steps vanity to fix its standard on self-
approbation.
The magnet which attracted and drew
together the sympathies of Reuben and
ADAM AND EVE. 61
Eve was, that within the nature of eacli
lay a vein of enthusiasm and aspira-
tion which carried them beyond the daily
round of their everyday lives. Both had
strong* wills, fervid temperaments, and
vivid imaginations, more or less warped
by the cramping influence from which
they suffered, in being constantly sur-
rounded by a narrow sphere of persons^
who looked on all that lay beyond the
grasp of their own stunted reasons as
something reprehensible and not respect-
able.
Even Mrs. Pascal, good, worthy woman
as she was, had not entirely escaped this,
bias ; and when, at times. Eve would
open wide her heart and sj)eak from out
its fulness, the mother would be troubled
at her child's strange fancies, and would
cast about to find where the mistake lay
4—2
52 ADAM AND EVE.
in her bringing up, that she had turned
out so widely different from those models
after whom she would fain have fashioned
her speech and her thoughts, as she had to
her utmost done her cap and her gown.
Heuben, too, knowing that he had never
been able to get up the slightest interest
in those demure virgins from amid whose
ranks his choice should necessarily have
fallen, revenged himself by chiming in
with Mrs. Pascal, praising their sedate
appearance and demure behaviour, and
ignoring the fact that in external propriety,
at least, Eve differed but very little
from the rest of the young women among
whom, at chapel or meeting, she was
seated.
Mrs. Pascal's naturally shy, retiring
disposition had been against her making
many friends ; and as — though a constant
ADAM AND E VE. 55
attendant at the chapel — she had never
summoned up enough resolution to become
a member until her illness, though known
to all the congregation by sight, and suffi-
ciently intimate with most of chem to ex-
change hand-shakings, but very few had
ever seen her in her own home.
As soon, however, as it became known
that she was dangerously ill, she was the
object of constant and unremitting atten-
tions, and scarce a day passed without a
visit from one or other of her friends.
But the conversation which soothed and
calmed the weary spirit of the sick woman
was torture to poor Eve ; the hope raised
of that bright world unseen fell like a
funeral knell upon her ears ; the glories
of that land beyond the grave, to which
her mother now was hastening, she would
not listen to, because her eyes were fixed
54 ADAM AND E VE.
upon the grave itself, and the great deso-
lation she saw there blotted all else beyond
from out her view.
Looking from the level of declining
middle age, good, worthy people, as these
were, no longer see the whirlwinds which
scatter and destroy youth's golden sands ;
their blood grown torpid, their affections
lukewarm, they fail to recognise the
throes which usher in the birth of calm
endurance.
When Eve, in the strength of her
passionate love, wrestled with the dread
enemy whose shadow already rested on
her mother's face, they called it presump-
tion ; and when, seeing his visible pre-
sence draw near, the girl, in the helpless
agony of mute despair, threw up her arms
to — if but for an instant — avert the fatal
dart, the action was denounced as an im-
ADAM AND EVE. 55
plied defiance of Almighty Will. Mis-
applied rebukes, untimely reasoning, and
comfortless platitudes were showered on
her to no purpose : ' Leave me alone, only
leave me alone 1' she would moan to those
who had left their work or their pleasure
for the sole purpose of carrying out the
good that in their hearts they constantly
desired to do. It was neither their fault
nor hers that they could not understand
her, and she could not tolerate them ; yet
the breach produced scandal on one side,
and vexation and disquietude . on both.
It was during this time that the chord
between Reuben and Eve had first truly
vibrated ; Houben's sympathy was as dumb
as Eve's sorrow, and because he sat
silently by, neither attempting to con-
sole her anguish nor curb its outbreak, his
was the only presence she could tolerate
56 ADAM AND EVE.
But this preference shown, and shown for
a man too, was but a further aggrava-
tion of Eve's ah^eady numerous offences.
Neither did Reuben May, although a
favourite, altogether escape his share of
censure ; but though Reuben was pretty
certain of the animadversions he was
bringing down upon himself, they in no
way influenced his conduct, for, added to
the attraction which Eve possessed for
him, the affection in which he had held
Mrs. Pascal had been all but filial, and in
itself had promjDted him to watch over
each trifling detail of the humble funeral^
which Eve had entrusted to his care ;
and when the poor girl found strength
to thank him for his solicitude, find-
ing some comfort in the thought that
all was carried out as her mother would
have desired. Reuben was doubly repaid
ADAM AND E VE. 57
for the trouble he had taken, and the small
hoard of savings which, on his own part^
lie had expended.
A novice in the ways of love, Keuben
did not know^ that one of the surest tests
of the strength of his lay in the fact, that
never at any former moment, when her
beauty had been most radiant and her
spirits most brilliant, had Eve seemed half
so dear to his heart as she was during
those dark days of sorrow when, with
swollen eyes and tear-stained face, she sat
unmindful of his presence, hardly heeding
when he came or when he went. He forgot
then all the vanity for which he used to
chide her, all the inconsistencies for which
he had been wont to condemn her ; he only
felt that if she would remain helpless all
her days so that he might Avait upon her
and work for her, he asked no better lot,
ADAM AND EVE.
and a hope that she might give him the
right to do this began to be strengthened
as he saw that he was the one person to
whom she tmmed. When she felt that
support was needed, she clung to Keuben
for it. When the time came that she
thirsted for consolation, it was at his hand
she sought it. She listened to his counsel
and acted on his advice, trusting every-
thing to his guidance, until — the elasticity
natural to youth gradually asserting itself
■ — she began to feebly struggle back to the
every-day life of the present and the
feverish hopes for the future.
Mrs. Pascal had been dead nearly six
months now, and though the abiding loss
of her mother was as fresh and green to
Eve as when she first saw her, yet, during
the weeks which had elapsed since her
visit to Reuben May, she had regained a
ADAM AND EVE. 59
considerable portion of her health and her
energy.
Her visit to Polpcrro was now a settled
fact, and Eeuben had agreed to house
her furniture until she came back to
claim it.
This past time, with its interchange of
letters, its suspense, its anxieties, had
been one of great excitement to Eve, and
surely its outpour of sweets and bitters, at
one time set suddenly flowing, at another
as suddenly checked, had well-nigh dis-
tracted Reuben May.
But now all was settled, every arrange-
ment made, and nothing more remained to
be done but to sit idly down and wait for
the hour of departure.
The order of her journey, and the means
by which it might be accomplished, had
been left entirely to her uncle, and a couple
60 ADAM AND EVE.
of days since a sailor-looking man had
come to say that the Mary Jane of Fowey
was now unlading at Oates' Wharf, and
her captain had bid him run up and say,
that he'd been asked by Zebedee Pascal
at Polperro to convoy round a niece of his
that he'd find in London ready and waiting
to go with him, that the captain's name
was Triggs, and if all went well the Mary
Jane w^ould get under weigh on Sunday
morning about four o'clock, so that miss
had best come aboard the night before.
Eve, having already received notice that
Captain Triggs of the Mary Jane was
to be her escort, accepted the invita-
tion, and was now waiting for Reuben's
arrival to accompany her down to the
wharf.
Those who have made a first solitary
venture out into the world will perhaps
ADAM AND EVE. 61
know the contending emotions which were
stirring within Eve. Later on, when Hfe
seems one long journey, with few or
many resting-places, the whole matter is
altered, and we know that nothing will be
nearly as good or as bad as we anticipate ;
our expectations grow more moderate
and are not so easily damped ; our regret
is less keen, but more lasting;-. Eve's
feelinors had reached the stasre when all
else is mersfed in the s^reat long^inof to be
gone, and the dread of going. Naturally
affected by external surroundings, the
sight of the furniture disarranged, huddled
together, and swathed for protection in bits
of carpet and such like wrappings, filled
her with melancholy ; a melancholy which
seemed shared in by the cat, who sat
miserable and disconsolate on the tied-up
bed, giving pantomimic mews which had
62 ADAM AND EVE.
no sound, but much sadness. The window-
was curtainless, the firejDlace untidy and
choked with torn-up paper and useless
rubbish ; the sea-chest, turned for the occa-
sion into a table, was littered with the
remnants of that last meal which Keuben
had impressed upon her it was necessary
she should fortify herself with ; the rush
candle standing on the mantelshelf near,
just gave enough light to deepen the
shadows and darken the corners into fit
lurking-places for imaginary terrors.
Eve's courage seemed to die within her ;
her heart grew troubled and reproach-
ful. Could she be doing wrong ? Ought
she to have stayed working at her lace-
mending, as her mother had wished her to
do ? Did it not seem as if she was forsaking
that mother in thus going away from all,
that while they were together had grown
ADAM AND EVE. 63
familiar 1 True it was that she could no
longer see her, hear her speak, listen to
her words ; but she could go to the grave
where she was laid, and in sweet commune
there feel such a depth of rest and peace
as never came at any other time. For oft
beside that daisied mound a spirit seemed
to stand, and there, 'twas not the breeze
that stirred the air, but the soft rustle of
angelic wings. When she w^as gone, would
that dear presence hovering come, and
watch, and watch in vain, for her who
had left it lonely and alone ? The
thought pierced Eve like au arrow, and,
overcome by quick remorse, she flung
herself down and wept so passionately
that, though Keuben, who had just
mounted the stairs, knocked sharply
before entering, she neither stirred nor
spoke. He opened the door : it needed
64 ADAM AND EVE.
but the sight of her bowed figure beside
the old chair, with her face hidden down in
the seat where her mother had always
sat, to tell him what was giviDg rise to
the struggle through which Eve was pass-
ing. The vision of past days when he
was sure to find the two in loving company,
the dear motherly face, the cheerful tidy
room, all came crowding before him, and
contrasted bitterly with the present grief
^nd discomfort. A mist swam before
Reuben's eyes, and he made an involuntary
pause. Unknown to himself, the next few
moments would decide one of those turn-
ing-points w^hich, few or many, come to all
our lives, and his hand held the balance ;
his next action, nay, almost his next word,
would fix the future. How will he act %
what will he say \
Alas, poor Reuben 1 had he loved less
AJDAJf AND E VE. 65
he would have ventured more, but great
love is seldom venturesome ; held back by
a thousand emotions, it stands trembling
on the threshold over which a more
selfish passion strides triumphant. Un-
tutored in love's ways, ignorant of the
arts by which it is ensnared, Reuben
was guided by a compassion so tender,
that his heart let its own anguish
and its great yearning be swallowed up
in the one desire to spare his beloved
pain and keep her from suffering. Gulp-
ing down the torrent which sprang to his
lips, he sounded the knell to his fate by
saying, in a forced tone of commonplace
surprise :
* Come, come. Eve ; why, what are you
thinking of ? I thought to find you ready
and waiting for me ; it won't do, you know,
to drive thins^s off to the last minute,
VOL. I. 5
6 6 ADAAf AND E VE.
or if so ' and the rest of the sentence was
drowned by the noise he made in unneces-
sarily dragging a box from one side of the
room to the other, after which, expending
a further surplus of energy in giving vigo-
rous pulls to sundry stray pieces of rope,.
Reuben turned to find Eve standing up
ready and waiting.
At sight of her wan face all his firmness
seemed to desert him, and involuntarily
stretching out his hand he laid it on her
shoulder.
^ Eve,' he said, *" my dear one, if you
could see my heart torn in two to see you
suffer !'
But the sympathy had come too late,
the recoil had been given ; those first few
words had turned the depth of feeling back
upon herself, and the heart which lay cold
and dull within Eve no longer felt re-
ADAM AND EVE. 67
proach for herself, nor craved sympathy for
her siifterino'.
' I'm quite ready now/ she said, with a
Httle movement which told Reuben more
effectually than words that his small show
of affection was displeasing to her. ' I've
said good-bye to everybody, I'll take these
small thinofs down, and tell the man to
come, and you'll help him with the boxes
on to the truck ?'
' Then ain't you coming up again X
' No ; I shall go slowly on, and you can
overtake me ;' and, without another look
at him, or at the room she was leaving,
Eve went downstairs and passed out of the
house into the street.
Oh ! for how many a weary night and
day was that walk to dwell in Reuben's
memory ; the starless sky, the silent gloom
of the ail-but deserted streets seemed to
5—2
68 ADAM AND EVE.
shadow forth the unknown future, while
every onward step but widened the barrier
which had insensibly sprung up between
him and Eve, who moved along me-
chanically with her face impassible, and
her manner so distant and cold, that the
last fond words which lay crowded on
Keuben's lips were chilled before he found
courage to speak them.
But if anything is to be said it must be
said at once, for the bridge has been crossed,
the last turning made, and the dark, silent
river is near, bearinof on its waters a small
forest of masts, one of which belongs to the
little barque which is to carry Eve away.
Away ! the thought flashed before
Heuben as if he only noAV, for the first
time, realised that they were going to part;
all the pain, fear, dejection that lay scat-
tered over the last two months seemed to
ADAM AND EVE. 69
crowd itself into the anguish of this
present moment, a great shadow of fore-
boding rose up to encompass him, a cloud
of desolation spread its gloom around him,
and, nerved by the keenness of this agony,
he seized Eve by the sleeve.
' 'Tisn't too late !' he gasped ; ^ Eve,
for the love of God don't go to this place I
No, I can't tell you what it is,' he added,
in answer to the frightened look of amaze-
ment with which she stopped to regard
him : * but somethino^'s come over me all
of a sudden that, if we part now, we part
for ever ; the words seem set ringing in my
ears, and pull at my heart-strings like a
passing bell. There's still time to turn
back ; it needs only a word from you,
Eve !' he pleaded.
But Eve's eyes were turned from his,
gazing away far beyond him.
ADAM AND EVE.
Did the balance of destiny again
tremble 1 if so, it was only for an instant ;
for before Reuben had time to urge more,
her face quivered, her whole frame relaxed,
and, with a voice full of sadness, she
sighed out despondingly :
' 'Tis too late now, Beuben — too late, too
late !'
And the words had scarce left her lips
when some one from behind touched
Heuben on the shoulder, and a man came
forward, who said :
' If I'm not signalising the wrong party
by mistake, my name is Triggs, and forrard
lies the Mary Jane!
And after this, save for the common-
place ' Good-bye ' of friends, there was no
further leave-taking ; but when the
morning dawned, and by its light the little
vessel slowly stole away, a woman's eyes
ADAM AND EVE. 71
were vainly strained towards the shore,
striving to pierce the mist which hung
around, and hid from view a man who,
waiting, stood until the creeping day
lifted the veil and showed him a blank of
water.
Then Reuben knew the little ship had
gone, and as his heart sank down it
seemed to bid farewell to Eve for ever.
CHAPTER lY.
HE little barque which was carry-
ing Eve away from her home
and its early associations was
bound for Fowey, between which place
and London Captain Triggs traded.
On her way to Fowey, some few miles
further up the coast, the Mary Jane would
have to pass Polperro, but as it would not
be possible for her to lay to, or land her
passenger, it had been agreed that
Eve was to go on to Fowey, at which
ADAM AND EVE.
place her uncle would probably be found
waitinof to receive her.
Many an hour had Eve passed in
pleasant anticipations of her coming^
journey, and how it was to be made, in-
dulging her imagination by picturing the
three or four days of perfect idleness, Avhen
there would be nothing to do but sit and
watch the rolling sea, and feel the ship
ride gaily o'er the dancing waves.
Alas, poor Eve ! a very different ex-
perience was hers to tell, when, towards
the close of the fourth day, she emerged
from the tiny cabin, out of which, since
the time they had lost sight of land, she
had never stirred, and feebly struggled
upon deck to find they were already inside
Fowey harbour, and nearing the qua}'' at
which she supposed they intended to
land.
74 ADAM AND EVE.
The day had been wet and stormy, and
the mists hung heavy and thick over the
crooked, winding streets of Fowey, and
the wooded heights of its opposite
shore.
At any other time Eve would have
been struck with the new beauty of the
scene around her ; but now, weary in body
and sick at heart, all her thought was, had
her uncle come, and how much further was
there to go \ Would this shouting and
bawling to ' cast off' and ^ hold on ' never
cease ? The babel of strange sounds
which naturally accompanies most nautical
efforts seemed to daze Eve's untutored
senses, and she had just begun to re-
linquish all hope of this state of confusion
ever coming to an end, when the welcome
voice of Captain Triggs sounded in her
ears, saying :
ADA3f AND EVE. 75
' I half fancy your uncle lia'n't come, or
he'd be aboard afore now, I reckon.'
* Perhaps he does not know that the vessel
has got here yet,' said Eve, * and if not, what-
ever shall I do V she added anxiously, the
last remnant of endurance vanquished by the
fear of spending another night on board.
'Well, he'd calkilate on our being here
some time to-day, though I 'spects he'd
reckon on us gettin' in a brave bit earlier
than us has, by which raison us may find
nn stuck fVist at the King o' Proossia's ;
howsomedever, you'ni all right now, for
my house is only over to Polruan there,
and my missis 'ull make 'ee comfortable for
the night, and you can go on in the morn-
ing, you knaw.'
* Thank you,' said Eve, faintly, 'but I
should like to make sure first that uncle
has not come.'
76 ADAM AND E VE.
' Iss, iss ; all right, usll rin up to
Mrs. Webber's to wance ; I can go with
'ee now^ so come 'longs/ and he held out
his hand to help her down from the cask
upon which, in order to get out of the way^
she had seated herself. ^ Steer clear o'
they ropes/ he said, as they crossed the
deck, after which poor Eve, abandon-
ing herself to the certainty of a watery
plunge, came with a flop down into one of
the several small boats which lay bobbing
about near enough to form an unsteady
sort of bridge across to land.
^ There us is, you'm right 'nuf now !'
exclaimed Triggs cheerily, as Eve paused
for an instant at the top of the few
steps to take breath. ^ I'll warrant you
won't be in no hurry to volunteer for the
next voyage,' he added, laughing, as he
caught sight of her pale face. ' Why, you
ABAM AND EVE.
be a poor hand on the waiter surely, I
don't believe that you've so much as held
your head up for five minutes since us
started.'
' I feel just as if I was on board the
ship now,' said Eve, trying to steady
her staggerino^ footsteps. * I do hope that
I shall find my uncle here, I am longing
to be at my journey's end.'
^ Well, I hardly know \\hat to say till
I've bin inside, but I half fancy if he'd
come, us should ha' sin un about some-
wheres afore this,' and he turned to take
another scrutinisinof look around before
entering the inn, in front of which they
now stood.
It was an odd, queer-looking place, even
in those days reckoned out of date and old-
fashioned. Irregular stone pillars raised
it some twelve feet from the Gfround
78 ADAM AND EVE.
making it necessary, in order to gain the
door, that you should mount a perilously
steep flight of steps, up which, with an
alacrity familiarity alone could have
rendered safe. Captain Triggs ran, giving
an unnecessary duck of his head as he
passed under the swinging signboard on
which was depicted the once universally
popular Prussian hero.
A minute or so elapsed, and then
he emero^ed ao^ain, this time biddingf-
Eve to * come on,' as it was ^ all right,'
in accordance with which invitation
she followed his direction, and stepped
from across the threshold into a room
which by contrast looked so bright and
cheerful that, with a sigh which seemed to
relieve her burdened spirit of half its
weight, she sank down into the nearest
empty chair.
ADAM AND EVE,
' Why, Avho have 'ee got there then,
Capen Triggs ? demanded a voice which
proceeded from a railed-ofF portion of the
farther end of the room ; '■ 'tis never she
that Sammy Tucker's bin axin' about — he
spoke as if her was a httle maid. Why,
do 'ee go near to the fire, my dear, you
looks all creemed with the cold and as
wisht as can be.'
* Here, take a drop o' that,' said one of
the men, pushing a glass of steaming grog
towards her, while the others moved up on
the settle so as to leave the nearest seat to
the fire vacant. 'Don't be afeard of it,
*tis as good a drop o' sperrits as ever was
paid toll for — eh, Mrs. Webber '?' and he
gave a significant wink towards the buxom
landlady, whose jolly rubicund face, and
stout though not ungainly figure, was quite
in keeping with its background of orna-
€0 ADAM AND EVE,
mental kegs, glasses, and bottles, filled with
cordials and liquors seldom seen except in
houses frequented by wealthy and well-to-
do people.
The fear of giving offence made Eve
raise the glass to her lips, but the smell,
forcibly reminding her of the remedies
which had been pressed upon her during
her recent voyage, so overcame her that
she was obliged to hastily set it down with
a faintly-spoken apology that she wasn't
feeling very well, as she had only just
come off the sea.
' Have 'ee come with Capen Triggs,
then ? not all the way, for sure V
^Yes, I've come all the way from
London.'
' Have 'ee though ! and where be goin'
to — who's your folks here, eh V
^ I'm going to Polperro,' replied Eve,
ADAM AND EVE. 81
somewhat amazed at her interlocutor's out-
spoken curiosity. ^ I have an uncle living
there.'
* Her's own niece to Zebedee Pascal,'
broke in the landlady, Avho, having by this
time learnt from Captain Triggs all he
knew of Eve's history, w^as unwilling
that the first batch of news should be
given out by any other than herself ; ' her
mothei-'s a died and her's left all alones, and
Zebedee's wrote to her to come down to
Polperro, and bide with they so long as
ever her likes, or for good and all if her's
so minded to. He'd ha' come for her hisself,
but they ain't a landed yet ; so he's sent
word in by Sammy Tucker that her's to
go back with he. 'Twas never thought
they'd be so late in, so Sammy was all
ready to start by four o'clock ; though now,
VOL. I. G
ADAM AND EVE,
when 'tis nigh 'pon the stroke o' six, he
ain't to be found no place.'
^ Why, I knaws where he's to/ said one
of the audience. ^ I seed un, as I come up
along, sittin' into my cousin Joe's ;' and,
moved by the look of weary anxiety ou
Eve's face, he added, ' Why, if 'ee likes,
I'll run and see if he's there now, shall I ?
and tell un to look spry too, for 'tain't
every day he's got the chance o' car'yin
such a good-lookin' young Avoman up
behind un.'
The compliment, half-sheepishly spoken,
brought the colour into Eve's j)ale face,
and it deepened as the eyes of each
one present were turned in her direc-
tion.
^ 'Tis a purty-faced maid, surely,' was
buzzed about the room, until the landlady,
out of pity for Eve's confusion, gave a
ADAM AND EVE, 83
dexterous twist to the conversation by
saying,
' I can't fiither lier on any o' the Pascal
folks, though, they're all such a dark-
featured lot ; 'ceptin' 'tis Adam, and he's as
fair as he's franty.'
A general nod had just given consent
to the truth of these remarks, when the
man who had volunteered to fetch Eve's
escort arrived, accompanied by him and
Captain Triggs, who had run down to take
another look at how thinofs were 2foin2f on
on board the Mary Jane, and lend a hand
in bringing up Eve's box.
' Well, here you be at last, then,' ex-
claimed Mrs. Webber, with a nod of remon-
strance at Sammy Tucker's unexplained
absence ; ' 'tis a hunderd to one her hasn't
gone to Poh'uan afore this — slippin' off and
nobody able to tell wliere you're to. I
G— 2
84 ADAM AND EVE.
wouldn't ha' bin in your shoes, I can tell
'ee, if you'd a had to shaw 3^our face to
Joan Hocken and nothin' better than
empty sacks behind 'ee.'
A general laugh was caused by this
sally, followed by a few more home-thrusts
at Sam Tucker's expense, which made him
not sorry to seem engrossed in the cere-
mony of an introduction, which Captain
Triggs briefly effected by giving him a
lurch in Eve's direction, as he said :
^ There lies yer cargo, Sammy ; and my
advice is, get it aboard and up stick and
away so quick as you're able,'
^ Hope I see 'ee well, miss/ said Sam,
trying to recover his equilibrium, after
falling against two men whose heads he
had brought rather sharply together.
' I say, young chap, where might you be
a steering to, eh '?' exclaimed one ; while the
ADAM AND EVE. 85
other, with a very decided anathema,
hoped that he might have no more of that
sort of game, or he'd know the reason why
— words spoken in a tone which made
Eve move with greater alacrity than
she had before thought possible, and,
nodding a shy farewell to those around
her, she hastily moved from her seat out
to the space in front of the bar, where
another five minutes had to be spent in
declininof the various cordials which Mrs.
Webber was bent upon fortifying her with.
Then the horse had to be brought round,
the boxes carried to a place of safety until
some boat was found to convey them to
Polperro, and finally Captain Triggs put
in his head and announced all ready for
starting.
' But I'm never to go like that ?* ex-
claimed Eve, aghast at seeing nothing
8G ADAM AND EVE.
but the small horse on which Sam Tucker
was already mounted. ^ Oh, I can't !
Why, I should be certain to fall off ; I was
never upon a horse in my life !'
^ No reason why you shouldn't begin
now, my dear/ laughed the landlady, who
had accompanied Eve to the door. ' Why,
what be feared of? Bless the maid, 'tis
only to hold tight on by Sammy, and you'll
be right enuf !'
' But my box ! how's that to go ? Oh,
I thought surely they'd have sent a
cart !'
^ A cart ?' echoed a voice from among
the party, all of Avhom had come from
within to witness Eve's departure. ^ I
say, Sammy, how many carts has thee
got to Polperro, eh ?'
' Why, wan,' answered Sammy, stolidly.
* And when you wants he, you puts un
ADAM AND EVE. 87
in a boat and pulls un round, doan't
'eer
This observation seemed to aiibrd much
merriment, which Mr. Tucker not relishing,
he called out :
* Come, miss ! us must be thinkin' about
goin', you know.'
' Iss, that you must,' said Captain Triggs,
decisively. * Now put your foot there, and
I'll give 'ee a hoist up,' and, suiting the
action to the words, he all but sent Eve
over the other side.
This little lurch, as the captain called
it, was, however, soon remedied ; and
before Eve had time to enter another
protest, the horse, weary of standing, put
an end to the matter by setting off with a
very tolerable amount of speed, and away
they went clattering along the narrow
length of North Street, Eve far too
88 ADAM AND EVE.
frightened to be able to think of anything
beyond how best she might keep tight hold
of her companion.
At length, to her momentary relief, they
stopped, but only for a moment; for Sammy,
discovering that the ferryboat was on the
point of starting, gave vent to some vigorous
halloos, which he kept up, until by dint of
* Gee up's,' ' Come hither, then,' and
'Woa's,^ they at last found themselves
safely standing in the capacious ferry-
boat.
' Be 'ee goin to get down X asked the
ferryman.
But before Eve could answer, his com-
panion bawled out :
' Noa, noa ! let be where her is ; the
watter's comin' in so fast we'm knee-deep
here already.'
' Her's gotten a leak in her some place/
ADAM AND EVE. 8i>
said the first man, by way of apology for
his mate's impetuosity. ' I can't think
where 'tis to though, and us haven't time to
lay her up by dayhght to see neither ; but
I reckon us had better do so 'fore long,
or 'er'll carry us all to bottom. Her's
drawing watter now most powerful
strono'/
' Wa-al,you wunt get no toll from we, 'less
you car's us safe,' piped a chorus of women's
voices from the stern, where they sat
huddled together, trying to keep their feet
out of the water which flowed in with
every length the boat took. ' The young
woman up there's got the best of it, I
think.'
' And so her seemeth to think, too,' said
the outermost of the party, ' to look how
her's houldin' on to un. Why, do 'ee think
you'm goin' to lost un in crossin', my
00 ADAM AND EVE.
dear X she said, addressing Eve, who heard
her words, although she heeded not,
for hfe must be secured, though it were
by holding on wdth might and main to
Sammy Tucker's back.
So the women laughed, and Sammy
simpered, but Eve neither spoke nor
relaxed her hold until they were out of
the boat, up the steep hill, and fairly jog-
ging quietly along what seemed, by com-
parison, a level road.
Then Eve ventured to turn her eyes
from her companion's dusty coat, and cast
them timidly around. Even in the open
country the light had by this time begun
to fade away, so that between the high
narrow hedges, along Avhich their road lay,
it w^as grey and shadowy. Mile after mile
was passed, with nothing more to be seen
than walls of tanofled briars and brush-
ADAM AND EVE. 91
Avood, whose out-stretched trails Eve had
constantly to shrink back from.
Sometimes a gate or opening would
disclose the undulating country beyond,
the white mists hanofino* thick and low
over the slopes of turnips or stubble.
Fortunately for her, her companion was
not given to loquacity, so that, except
when by a wave of his short stick he
signified that this farm was Poljan, and
that Withers, or that the dark object
rising: on the rig[lit was Lansallos Church,
'Where they all lies buried to,' he pre-
served a merciful silence, thus affording
Eve the full liberty of inwardly groaning
at the misery she endured, by being jolted
over the rough stones with which the
old pack-horse road was promiscuously
strewn.
' It seems a very long way,' she said
92 ADAM AND EVE.
at last, as, after reaching the foot of a
particularly steep descent, they seemed
about to enter a valley shut in by what,
to Eve, looked like mountains. ' Is that
the sea ?' she added eagerly, as a sound
of water fell upon the ear.
'■ The say !' repeated Sammy ; * Lor'
bless 'ee, there ain't no say here ; that's
the watter,' he explained, raising his voice,
for the stream seemed, for a minute, to be
running a race with them. ' Up back
there,' and his unexpected turn nearly
sent Eve into the road, 'the mill is.
That's where I lives to, with Joan's mother:
her married my feyther — only feyther's
dead now, so th' mill's mine. Uncle
Zebedee's wife was Joan's mother's sister,
so that's why her lives with un ; and
as you'm his niece, too, they axed me to
bring 'ee home. They didn't think ye'd
ADAM AND EVE. 93
bin so late in, d ee see ? or I reckon they'd
ha' sent word for 'ee to bide the night at
Mrs. Webber's.'
Interested in this explanation of her
new family ties, and the relation they
bore to one another. Eve was about to
inquire if she should see Joan, and what
she was like, when Sammy, catching sight
of the distant lights, was fired by the
laudable ambition of making a good entry
into the village which they were now
fast approaching; and giving a vigorous
application of his stick, away w^ent the
horse past a row of houses, through the
open hatch-doors of which, Eve caught
glimpses of domestic interiors and social
groups, evidently disturbed by the hores's
clatter, for at the sound they jumped up,
peered out into the darkness, and flung
after them an inquiring ' Good-night V
94 ADAM AND EVE.
' Iss, good-night ; 'tis only me !' roared
Sammy, an answer which was apparently
satisfactory, as the next *" good-nights '
sounded more hearty and cheerful.
Then a sudden narrowing of the road,
and they were in the street — had turned
a corner — forded a stream — and, oh, wel-
come finale! had come to their journey's
end ; and before Sammy could apply the
knob of his stick, the house-door had
opened, a stream of light from within was
sent out into the street, discovering a girl,
who, after a moment's hesitation, ran to
the horse's side, tip-toed up to seize hold
of Eve's hands, exclaiming, in a pleasant
voice, as she did so :
' Why, is this Eve ? I'm Joan Hocken,
so we'm kind o' cousins, you know ! Why,
whatever have they bin doin' with 'ee till
this time o' night ? I was looking for 'ee
ABAM AND EVE. 95
hours agone. There, wait till us gets a
stool, my dear, and then you'll be able
to step down easy.'
Eve tried to return this o-reetingf with
as much cordiality as she could com-
mand, but no great strain was put upon
her, for Joan asked a dozen questions, with-
out waiting for half of them to be answered,
and by the time Eve had managed tO'
extricate herself and her garments, had
stepped down and stretched her cramped
limbs, Joan was in full possession of all that
had taken place during the state of ex-
pectancy which had preceded her arrival.
' Take care o' the step,' said Joan,
pushing open the hatch-door for Eve
to enter, while she lingered behind to aim
a few parting arrows at Sam Tucker, in
whom Joan's presence seemed to have
aroused the power of continued laughter.
96 ADAM AND EVE.
The opportunity thus afforded, Eve
spent in casting a look round the room, a
moderately-sized one, but unusually narrow
for its length. A cheerful fire burnt on the
hearth, and the light of its fierce bright
blaze played on the walls, one side of
which was taken up by an elaborately-
furnished dresser, while in an opposite
corner stood a capacious glass cupboard.
The rest of the furniture was of a fashion
far above anything Eve had expected to
see, so that, without being able to bestow
much separate notice on the things in-
dividually, the effect produced was a sud-
den thouoiit that her uncle must be much
better off than she had imagined him to be;
this made her wonder where he was, and
Joan coming in at the moment, she said :
' Isn't Uncle Zebedee at home ? Shan't
I see him to-night V
ADAM AND EVE. 97
*No, the boats is away, and us don't
'spect no news of em 'til to-morrow or next
day, so us two '11 have to put up with wan
'nother's company 'til then, and ofttimes
after, if you bides here, which I hope,' she
added, smiling, ' you will, when you comes
to knaw us a bit better.'
Eve looked up to show that she ap-
preciated this kindly speech, and their
eyes meeting, they let them linger for an
instant, while each made a shy inspection
of the other's personal appearance.
Joan was a bright-faced, good-looking
girl, with quick dark eyes and a white skin
which no exposure seemed able to tan ; she
was rather below the middle heisrht, and
had a round compact figure which was set
off to advantage by her quilted petticoat
and handsome coloured chintz gown, the
style and pattern of which had immediately
VOL. I. 7
98 ADAM AND E VE.
caught Eve's notice ; the handkerchief, too,
which was tucked into her bodice was
many degrees finer than anything Eve
possessed ; and to crown all, the cap which
she wore was actually trimmed with real
French lace. In the surprise caused by the
sight of such an unexpected display, Eve
entirely forgot what Joan's face was like,
while Joan, who generally took in the
complete costume of any one before her,
had not even noticed that Eve's dress
was plain after a fashion very unusual in
those parts. Her eyes were still resting
admiringly on the face before her, struck
by its being quite unlike any she had
ever seen ; the delicately- cut features, the
fair yet not white skin, the deep-set
eyes with their drooping fringe of black
lashes, all had a separate charm for
Joan.
ADAM AND EVE. 99
' Don't 'ee never have no colour V she
said, putting the question which arose to
her mind.
' Colour !'
' 'Iss, in yer cheeks, T mean.'
' Oh no !' and Eve put up both her
liands as if trying to remedy the de-
fect. ^ I don't know how it is/ she
said, ' that I'm so pale and sallow-
lookinof.'
' Sailer ! do 'ee call it V laughed Joan ;
* I wishes I was sailer, then. I b'lieve if
I was to drink Avhole tubs o' vinegar — and
I have drunk quarts,' she nodded emphati-
cally— ' I should still have a colour like a
piney. But there, you may get your health
better away from the town ; and if so, you
won't w^ant to go back never no more,
will 'ee V
The coaxiniTf tone of voice said so much
7—2
100 An AM AND EVE.
more than the words, that Eve, unused
to the sweet singing cadence of a West-
country voice, felt grateful to the girl for
her kindly feeling.
' If they're all like you, I'm sure I shall
like to stay as long as you want me to,'
she said, with a little quaver ; ' but there's
uncle to know yet. I'm such a stranger to
you all,' she sighed, ^ that I don't know
anything about anybody, who they are,
nor nothing.'
^ Oh, that's soon made straight !' ex-
claimed Joan, well pleased at any oppor-
tunity that allowed her tongue to run.
' You sit down there now,' and she pulled
forward a large stuffed elbow-chair, ^ and
have your tay and that comfortable, and
I'll tell 'ee all about our folks. First
there's Uncle Zebedee — well, there's only
one o' his sort goin', so 'twould be waste o'
ADAM AND EVE, 101
time to tell up about he. He'll be better to
'ee than twenty fathers, though Adam's
got no cause to say that. Adam's his son,
us two maidens 's cousin.'
' Who's Adam V asked Eve, more for
the sake of showing a polite attention
than out of any particular interest she felt
in the conversation, for the sense of ease
produced by the comfortable seat and re-
freshing tea was beginning to take effect ;
a lazy indifference to anything that did not
necessitate exertion was stealing over her,
and though she repeated, ' Oh, my cousin
is he ?' it came upon her as a fact of no
importance, and just after that there came
a blank for a moment, and then the room
here suddenly changed to the one she had
left behind, and it was no longer Joan but
Reuben May sitting opposite to her ; a
jerk of her nodding head, and this transfer-
102 ADAM AND EVE.
mation was upset; and Eve opened her
eyes with a sudden stare which made Joan
burst into a laugh^ as she jumped up,
saying :
* Why, I declare you've bin to sleep, and
no wonder too, poor sawl, after the time
you've had of it. Come 'longs, and let's
be off to bed, and I'll tell 'ee the rest to-
morrow.'
* Don't think that I was asleep,' said
Eve, making an effort to rouse herself; ' I
only shut my eyes for a minute, but I
heard all you were saying.'
Joan laughed doubtingly.
' I did indeed,' urged Eve. * 'Twas some-
thing about Adam — he's my cousin, isn't
her
'■ 'Iss, that's all right,' laughed Joan ;
then, stooping to pick up Eve's cloak
and hood, she looked in her face for a
ADAM AND EVE, 103
moment, gave a little pincli to her cheek,
and said, as she did so, ' and I wonder
whatever he'll think of his new-found
relation V
CHAPTEE Y.
HE next morning Eve awoke to
find that much of her fatigue
was gone, and in its place a
languid depression was left, often the
sequence to an undue amount of exertion.
She got up and dressed herself, but the
feeling still had possession of her; so
that, when on going downstairs the
woman, who did the rough work of the
house, told her that Joan had just stepped
out for a few minutes — ' Her said herd
ADAM AND EVE, 105
be back in half an hour to most — '
Eve, with the hope that the air might
freshen her, decided that she too would
go for a little stroll. Finding herself
outside the house, she stood for a few
moments debating which would be the best
w^ay to go — up or down ? or across over
the narrow bridge under which the brook,
swollen by recent rain, was impetuously
flowing ? It could not matter much, and,
influenced by the novelty of walking across
the water, she retraced the street by which
on the previous night she had made her
entry into the village. Here it struck her
that it would be a pity to go over exactly
the same ground again, so at the corner
she turned her steps up the hill, until some
yards farther on, the road becoming again
divided, she took the left-hand path, and
found herself all at once in the midst of a
lOG ADAM AND EVE,
labyrinth of houses, some of which went
up steps, some went down ; some were
tolerably large, others barely more than
huts. But however the external part of
their dwellings might differ, the inhabitants
seemed actuated by one spirit, which led
them to leave off doing whatever they
might be about, run to the door, and openly
stare at the stranofer. ^ Comed last niofht,'
^ Sammy Tucker/ ' Zebedee Pascal's own
niece,' w^ere whispers which came floating
past Eve as she hurried on, rather put
out of countenance by finding herself the
object of such general observation. At
another time she would have been far less
affected, but now her spirits were low and
uneven, and it was an unspeakable relief to
her to find herself past the houses and
between a lonsf low shed which formed
part of a building-yard, and a heap of
ADAM AND EVE. 107
piled-up, roughly- hewn blocks of stone, over
which some children w^ere running, too
engrossed in their play to pay any heed to
Eve.
' How foohsh of me to take notice of
such things,' she said to herself, reprovingly;
and then the feelinof of loneliness came
over her again with redoubled strength.
She would not admit to herself that she
was regretting that she had left her home,
and, with a determination to give no place
to such a doubt, she tried to busy herself
by thinking if the room would be all right
and her furniture safe, and Reuben kind
to the cat, w^iich, though an animal he
abominated, he had promised to take care
of for her sake.
For her sake ! Yes, Reuben would do
most thinors that she asked him : he was
indeed a dear, kind friend to her, and she
108 ADAM AND EVE.
almost wondered what she could want
altered in him. He loved her, did all he .
<3ould to please her, only asked for her to
care for him in return ; and did she not do
that ? A tenderness, such as she had
never felt before, stole into Eve's heart. It
was as if the yearnings which from afar
Keuben was sending after her were being
answered ; an instant more and an echo
would carry back to him the open-sesame
to her love, of whose birth that soft
fluttering sigh seemed the herald.
Surely nobody was watching her ! Eve
looked up with the coy bashfulness of
a maiden who fears she has betrayed
her secret, and at the sight which met
her eyes a cry of sudden surprise escaped
her, for there lay the sea, the vast,
dashing, wave-ridden sea, which must be
spreading out away far beyond that hill
A BAM AND EVE. 109
which, overhanging, hid it from her
sight. A moment's pause, and then at
full speed, with a pent-up impatience,
which made her avert her eyes so that
she might look no more until she had
reached the top, and could command the
whole, Eve ran forward, never stopping
until, the height reached, she stood with
an awed face, and, slowly turning, gazed
upon the scene spread out before her.
To right, to left, around, above, below,
the sea and sky mirrored each other,
both vast and fathomless and blue, save
where they mingled, and together framed
themselves within a belt of silvery light.
A tremor ran through the girl's slight
frame, her whole body quivered with
emotion ; the glory of that longed-for sight
mastered her, its grandeur overpowered
her, and, clasping her hands, she flung her-
110 ADAM AND EVE.
self down against the slope and let her
tears come unrestrained until, her sobs
abating, her heart seemed eased, and she
was able to look around her with return-
ing calmness.
From the point on which she stood not
a habitation was to be seen ; the cliffs,
which, grass-crowned and green, were
kissed by the clouds above, ran broken
and bare down to the sea below, their grey
base lapped and washed by the foam-
ing waves ; the wind, soft but cool, told
tales of having lingered by the gorse and
played among the thyme, a fresh scent
from which came up in sweet reproach,
trodden under by the footsteps, Eve was
at length unwillingly obliged to turn
towards the house.
With many a lingering look behind,
slowly she came along until, some half-
ADAM AND EVE. Ill
^vay down the steep descent, the httle
village opened into view.
Many a year has passed away since
Eve Pascal stood arrested by the beauty
of that scene. Towns have dwindled
into hamlets, villages have been turned
into cities ; in not a few places the very
face of the earth is so chanofed that men
would stand strangers on the spot where
they lived and died, but not so here ;
a street added to, a road made, a few houses
more or less, and Polperro now is as Pol-
perro then — quaint, picturesque, and hidden
from the world around. Clustered on the
ledges of the rock ' the village coucheth
between two steep hills,' forming the en-
trance to a narrow, winding valley, shut in
by high slopes with craggy summits. As
a foreground spreads out the sea, its force
held back on one side by the hill descend-
112 ADAM AND EVE.
ing headlong into its water, and on the
other by the peak whose pinnacles stand
towering black and bare.
All this is still the Polperro of to-day,
but the people are changed into a quiet,
simple fishing folk, with nothing but a dim
memory — fast fading out — of those men
and women of a bygone day who made
and broke laws according to the code they
themselves had instituted ; were bound to-
gether by their given word which none
had ever broken ; punished a thief, and
scorned a lie, with hearts as honest and
consciences as clear as if they had never
heard of a free-trader, and were ignorant
of what was meant by a ^ good run of
goods.'
Sheltered from observation, with a safe
and commodious harbour, most difficult of
approach save to the amphibious popula-
ADAM AND EVE. 113
tion who had been reared amid its rocks,
Polperro seemed marked out as a strong-
hold for the hfe of daring deeds and hair-
breadth escapes in which the hardy, reck-
less sailors of that time revelled.
The rage for excitement then manifested
in London and the great towns by a per-
vading spirit of gambling, highway-rob-
bery, and betting, had spread itself into
the country under cover of poaching, and
reached the coasts in the sha|)e of smug-
gling ; and how could a pursuit be dishonest
or disgraceful in which, if all did not bear
the risks, none refused the benefits ?
The rector and the magistrate drank the
brandy, their wives and daughters wore the
lace, and gossiped over the tea ; even the
excise officer shouldered the tub laid at his
door, and straightway became blind to all
that was going on around him. tl
VOL. I. 8
114 ADAM AND EVE.
could hardly need more than this to
satisfy minds untutored and consciences
not burdened by scruples, that, though
their trade might be unlawful, the offence
was venial; and so universally had this
spirit worked and spread in Polperro, that
at the time when Eve came amono*
them, by whatever trade they might call
themselves, a common interest bound the
whole community together : the farmer,
the miller, the smith, the shopkeeper, each
had his venture ; the serving man or maid
brought his or her hoards the child its
little nest-egg, trusting it to the keeping
of those who were sure to turn the slender
store to fortunate account.
The aged and infirm watched the sign of
a land of goods with eager interest, for
the workhouse and parish relief was un-
known, and those past labour supported
ADAM AND E VE. 115
themselves by the sale of articles brought
to them free of freis^ht.
If Eve's father had ever entered into
any details of this life, from which a press-
gang had taken him, and to which his
early death had prevented him returning,
Mrs. Pascal had never thoucyht fit to re-
peat them to her daughter ; and when Eve
left London it was with the conviction that
she was going to her uncle, a fisherman,
whose means she expected to find slender,
and his abode as humble as the one she
was leaving behind her.
Weakened by fatigue as on the previous
night her powers of observation were, she
could not help being struck by the visible
marks of superiority in the furniture, and
a plenty amounting to extravagance on the
table. Then Joan's dress and lace cap only
increased the bewilderment, so that, though
8—2
1 1 6 ADAM AND E VE.
politeness checked its utterance, her mind
was full of curiosity, which she felt she had
no right to satisfy by taking advantage of
Joan's evident weakness for giving infor-
mation.
Until the previous evening when the
two girls met. Eve had known nothing
about Joan, except that her uncle's letter
had said that she wouldn't be alone in the
house, as his late wife's niece lived there
and looked after things for him. For some
reason the idea which Eve had formed in
her mind about this niece was that she
must be a sober, sedate, middle-aged per-
son; and it was no small relief to her to
find that she had been completely mistaken,
and had for a companion the bright, merry-
faced girl who now, as she reached a
before unperceived bridge, darted towards
her, exclaiming :
ADAM AND EVE. IIT
' Well, for certain I thought you'd ruu
home agen, or was pisky-laid or something.
Why, wherever had 'ee got to ? When I
went away I left 'ee sleeping as fast as a
top.'
* Is it late ? have I been long ?' asked
Eve. ^ Oh I I am sorry ; I didn't think
I'd stayed hardly a minute after I'd got to
the top, but it is so lovely — oh I I could
spend my day looking at it.'
^ Looking at it !' repeated Joan ; ' looking
at what \ Where have 'ee been to the top
to ? Why, the maid's mazed/ she laughed;
' there's nothin' up there to look at.'
* Nothinof to look at !' exclaimed Eve,
reproachfully, ^ and the beautiful lovely sea
all around you '?'
* Well, but if there is, there's nothin'
'pon it. Awh, my dear, if you'm so fond
of looking out and watching the say, wait
118 ADAM AND EVE.
a bit 'til the boats is comin' in, that's the
time ; and 111 tell 'ee what we'll do this
afternoon, if so be you'm so minded — us'll
go up top o' Hard Head, and if us catches
sight of 'em comin' in, we'll run down so
fast as can and tell the news, and you shall
have himhly for telling it. Why, don't 'ee
know what kimbly is, then V she said,
seeing by Eve's face that she did not un-
derstand her. ' 'Tis the present you gets
for being the first to bring word that the
boats be in sight, then they knaws 'tis all
right,' and she nodded her head signifi-
cantly ; ' some o' the women are such poor
sawls, always fainty-hearted, and think-
ing their men's certain to be took.'
' Took where V asked Eve, inno-
cently.
But instead of answering her, Joan only
said laughingly :
ADAM AND EVE. 119
' Oh ! away, any place, back o' beyond
or somewheres near it ; but come 'longs
home, do, or 'twill be dinner-time afore
breakfast's over.'
At breakfast the bountiful supply which
appeared again raised Eve's surprise, and
she could not refrain from saying, in a voice
which betrayed her wonderment :
* Are we going to have tea again f
' Yes,' said Joan. ' Why, don't you like
it?'
' Oh ! I like it, only it's so dear.'
* Not in this place,' interrupted Joan ;
' if we minded to we might be drinking tay
all day long, ah ! and not only tay, but rum
and brandy, as much as you hke to call for.
It's only to ask and to have, and cut and
come af^ain, in uncle's house.'
' I didn't think to find things any way
hke that,' said Eve, ' I thought,' she
120 ADAM AND E VE.
added, hesitatingly, 'that uncle would be
more the same as most working folks are,
not over well-to-do.'
* Oh, isn't he though !' returned Joan,
with an evident pride of relationship.
'Why, besides his two boats, he's got a
farm and land, and houses too, and this
house stuffed from top to bottom with
everything you can tell up about. Silver
plate, Indji china, and glass, and I don't
know what all ; nice pickings for Adam's
wife, whenever he chooses to take one T
she added, with satisfaction at the visible
surprise her communication Avas produc-
ing.
^ Adam isn't married, then '?' said Eve.
^ No, there's a chance for you ;' and Joan
gave a little laugh, folloAved by a grave-
toned ^ and a very good one too, if th'
other men look at 'ee with my eyes.
ADAM AND EVE. 121
Adam's one that over-valleys everything^
he hasn't got, and never cares a button for
what's his'n ; but there, he's spoilt, ye know,
by all the maidens here runnin' after un, and
ready to go down on their bended knees if
he but so much as holds up his finger to 'em.
I'd never let no man say that o' me,' she
said, the quick colour mantling into her
face. ' I'd die for his love 'fore I'd be
kept alive by his pity ; that's what my
mother calls my masterful sperrit, though,^
she said, trying to divert Eve's attention
from thinking^ that her declaration was in-
fluenced by any personal feeling.
'Yes, till last nis^ht I didn't know
you'd got a mother,' said Eve. ^ Uncle
Zebedee wrote in his letter that a niece
kept house for him, so I thought perhaps
you were like I am,' and she glanced down
at her black dress.
122 ADAM AND EVE.
' Well, I don't know that I'm much
better off. Father was Uncle Zebedee's
chum, and mother was Aunt Joanna's sister,
so when father died, and mother married
again, Aunt Joanna took me, and some-
how I don't seem as if I belonged to
mother ; and I'm very glad I don't, neither,
for I couldn't abide to be pitched among
such a Methodic lot as she's married
into.'
' My mother was very drawn towards
the Methodists,' said Eve gravely ; ^ she
didn't live to be a member of them, but she
dearly loved going to their chapel.'
' Well, I don't mind the chapel-going,
cos' o' the hymn-singin' and that ; it passes
the time Sundays, 'specially come winter,
when, 'ceptin' 'tis for a weddin' or a
funeral, t' seems ridiklous to toil all the
way up to church. But there, I'm done
JDAJJ AXD EVE. 123
with the Methodies now; I shan't never
have no opinion o' they agen.'
' And for why V asked Eve.
' Well, I'll tell 'ee for why : what right
has w^an o' their praichers from Gwennap
pit, a man as had never set foot in Pol-
perro before, to spy out uncle and fix upon
un to make a reg'lar set at, tellin' up 'bout
the smugglers and all Mr. Wesley had
w^rote agen 'em. Mr. Wesley may be all
very well, but he isn't everybody ; and if so
be he says what they puts down to un,
why, all I can say is, 'twas better he was
mindin' his own business.'
' But what need uncle take offence for V
said Eve ; then, with a quick resolve
to set her doubts at rest, she added : ' I
can't see what it had to do with him.
Uncle hasn't got anything to do with the
smuggling, has he V
124 ADAM AND EVE.
' Well, that's best known to uncle his self/
said Joan, rising from the table. ^ Only
mind this, Eve : whenever you hear
people talking anything against what they
don't know no thin' about, you just tell 'em
that you've got a uncle and cousin as
never did a thing they was ashamed of
in their lives. And to be set 'pon like that,
in a chapel, too, where you'm foced to sit
still with yer mouth shut ; 'twas no wonder
that uncle swored he'd never set foot inside
no such place agen — though 'tis very hard
'pon me, after havin' got un to go there —
and now, Sundays, 'tis drink, drink, as
bad as iver.'
Eve's heart sank within her ; a thou-
sand undefined fears took possession of
her mind^ casting their shadows on her
troubled face, which Joan, quick to note,,
tried to clear away by sayino^ :
ADAM AND E VE. 125
' A\vli ! YOU know ^vhat men be when a
passel of 'em gets together, and there's
nothin' more to do but telhn' up th' old
stories over and over again ; then, every
time they can't think of nothin' else, 'tis
empty their glasses. And uncle's one who's
all very well so long as he's had nothin', or
he's had enough ; but betwixt and between
you might walk with yer head in yer hand,
and then 'twouldn't be right. Jerrem's th'
only wan that can manage un at they
times and sich.'
^ Jerrem !' repeated Eve, ^ who's he —
another cousin ?'
' Well, yes and no ; everybody belongs to
Jerrem, and he belongs to nobody.'
* Why, how can that be '?' laughed Eve.
* Why, 'cos he can't claim blood with
none o' us here, nor, so far as he knows,
with none no place else. He was washed
] 26 ADAM AND E VE.
ashore one Christmas Eve in th' arms of a
poor nigger-black, who never fetched the
shore aUve. 'Twas more than twenty year
agonO;, on a terrible night o' weather ; the
coast for miles was strewed with wrecks. I
can t tell 'ee how many ships was washed
ashore in Whitsand Bay, and all about
up to there. To one of 'em the poor
black man must ha' belonged, and tried to
save his life and the child's too ; though
he couldn't ha' bin his own neither, for
Jerrem's skin's as clear as yours or mine.
He was naught but a baby like, I've heerd
'em say, and couldn't spake a word. Oh I
but Aunt Joanna she did love him dearly,
though ; 'twas she gived un the name o'
Christmas, through it being Christmas Day
when ole Uncle Jeremy, what used to live
to the Point, runned in and dropped un in
her lap. " There, missis," he says, '' I've a
ADAAI AND EVE. 127
broffed 'ee a Christmas box." So they
took and called iin Jeremiah Christmas,
and that's his name to this very day ; and
he don't awn to no other, only we calls un
Jerrem for short. Poor aunt, I've a heerd
her tell scores o' times o' the turn she got
when she saw 'twas a baby that th' ole chap
had dropped.'
' Had they got any children of their
own, then V
' Awh, yes ! Adam was a good big boy,
able to talk and rin about ; and the little
toad had got a jealous heart inside un then,
for the minnit he seed aunt kissin' and
huggin' the baby, he sets up a screech, and
was for flying at un like a tiger-cat ; and to
aunt's dyin' day he could never abide
seein' her make much o' Jerrem.'
* That wasn't showing a very nice dispo-
sition, though,' said Eve.
128 ADAM AND EVE.
' Well, no, no more it was ; still I've
often wished aunt would do other than she
did, and not be so tooked up with Jerrem's
€oaxin' ways as she was, for, with all his
kissin and cossetin of her, when her was
lain low, poor sawl, 'twas easy to see
which heart had been most full of love for
her. But there, we'm all as we was made,
ye know, some to show and some to
feei;
CHAPTER VI.
LTHOUGH the two girls spent
most of the afternoon on Hard
Head and the heisfhts around,
nothing was to be seen of the expected
vessels, a disaj)pointment which, Joan
seeming to feel, Eve tried to get up
some small show of having a share in,
although in reality it was a relief to her
that nobody was coming to intrude upon,
perhaps to dispel, her present state of
happiness — a happiness so complete that
VOL. I. 9
130 ADAM AND EVE.
she felt as if she had been suddenly
transported into the land of her dreams
and fancies, only that this reality ex-
ceeded the imap^ination in a tenfold de-
gree.
In the beginning, at each turn she would
seize Joan by the arm, and excitedly make
a fresh demand upon her sympathy, until,
finding that Joan only laughed at such
enthusiasm about a scene which familiarity
had robbed of its beauty, Ev^e relieved
herself by giving vent to long-drawn sighs
of satisfied content. With something^ of
that rapture akin to which the caged bird
hails its newly-gained freedom, did this
town-bred maiden gaze upon the unbroken
space before her.
Whichever side she turned, her eyes fell
on a scene, every feature of which was
new to her. Landward, the valley with
ADAM AND EVE, 131
its sloping craggy sides. Seaward, the
broad blue belt of waters, out into which
the distant headlands stretched with the
shadowy dimness of an unknown land.
Overhead, the sun shone hot and bright, so
that Joan, languid and drowsy, threw her-
self down and gave way to her inclination
to doze ; while Eve, well pleased to have
her quiet, sat silent and rapt in the beauty
around her.
Not a sound came to break the stillness,
save when the gulls went soaring over-
head with croaking cries, or the bees
grew noisy over the nodding thistles.
Surely in such a place as this sin and
sorrow must be unknown, for, with those
one loved on earth, Avho could be sorrowful
here % This thought was still in her mind,
when Joan, suddenly awakened, proposed
they should descend ; and, after stopping
9—2
132 ADAM AND EVE.
to cast a last look from the Chapel
Rock, they took their way back to the
village.
* Oh my, what steps !' exclaimed Eve,
as she prepared to follow Joan down a
worn-away flight, roughly cut out of the
solid rock.
^ Fine place for pattens, my dear,'
laughed Joan, as, having recklessly
reached the bottom, she stood waiting,
inwardly tickled at Eve's cautious
descent.
The sound of voices had by this time
brought to the door of a cottage, situated
at the top of the landing-place, an old
woman, wdio, after giving a short-sighted
scrutiny to Joan, said :
* Awh, it be you, be it ? I couldn't
think w'atever giglet 'twas comin'. How
be 'ee, then V
ADAM AND EVE, 133
' Oh, all right/ said Joan. ' Are you
pretty well V
' Iss, there ain't much amiss wi' me. I's
iver so much better than I war thirty year
agone. I doan't wear no bunnet now,
nor no handkecher, nor that ; and I can
see without no spectacles. Awh, bless
'ee, if 'twasn't for my legs I should be
brave, but they swells terrible bad ; and
that's where I'm goin' to, if so be they'll
car' me so far, to Tallan beach there, to
walk 'em down a bit 'pon the pebbly shore :
the doctor says 'tis the thing to do, and
the more rubbly the better. Who be you,
then?' she said, as Eve landed herself
on the flat beside them.
' 'Tis Uncle Zebedee's niece from Lon-
don,' answered Joan, with becoming pride
in her City connection.
' Awh, whether she be or no ! wa-al,
134 ADAM AND EVE,
you'm come to the right place here for
maidens — men to marry and money to
spend. Awh, I wishes I was young agen.
I'd tell 'ee 'bout it, and me as could car
me two gallons o' sperrits and a dollup o'
tay, besides lace and chaney, and was
knawed up to Plymouth and for miles
round. Why, I've bin to the clink afore
now/ she said triumphantly : ^ and they
threatened me with Bodmint Gaol wance,
but not afore I'd marked my man, bless
'ee : he car'd Poll Potter's score on his
body to his grave, I'll w^arrant 'em he
did.'
^ Ah, you've bin one o' the right sort,
Poll,' said Joan ; ' folks now ain't what
they used to be in your day.'
' No, tine-a-by, not they,' returned the
old woman, contemptuously; ''tis all for
stickin' yerself up for fine madams, now;
ADAM AND EVE. 135
dressiii' out and that. This is the thing — '
and she caiioht hold of the lace on Joan's
kerchief — ' and ruffle sleeves, forsooth !
Shame upon 'ee, Joan, and yer uncle too,
for lettin' 'ee ^vear such fal-de-lals ; and
Zebedee a sensible man as knows the
worth o' such, for over a guinea a yard
and more !'
* It hasn't got nothin' to do with Uncle
Zebedee,' said Joan, with a toss of her
head ; ' 'twas Adam gave 'em to me,
there now,' and she passed her hand
gently over the delicately textured frill
which shaded her somewhat over-coloured
elbows.
^ A bit o' sweetheartin', was it ? But
there, don't 'ee trust to 'un Joan, he
isn't a-thinkin' of you, take my word
for that ;' and she raised her voice to
call after Joan, who, at the first words
136 ADAM AND E VE.
of warning, had ran down the remainmg-
steps.
' Don't you make too sure o' that !' Joan
called back, turning round under pretence
of seeing that Eve was coming.
'All right, only doan't you nayther,^
said the old woman, emphatically. ' So
you be his chield V she said, looking at
Eve as she passed by ; * and a nice
rapskallion rogue he war,' she added, with
a sigh ; ' but for a' that I was mazed after
un, though he couldn't abide me — more's
the pity, p'r aps, for he might ha bin alive
now, though that's nothin' much, neither.
'Tis a poor tale of it when 't comes to
naught else but lookin on ; if 't warn't for
the little they brings me, freight free, and
the bit o' haggle I has o'er it, I'd as soon
be out of it as here.'
The concluding sentence of these reflec-
ADAM AND E VE. 137
tions was lost upon Eve, as slie had
already overtaken Joan, whose flushed
face betrayed the annoyance old Poll's
words had caused.
' Why, Joan, I do believe you're a sly
one,' said Eve, ' and that, for all you say,
Adam's more than a cousin to you.'
* No, indeed he's not,' replied Joan,
quickly ; ^ so don't take that into yer
head, Eve. You'll soon hear from all
around w^ho's got a soft place for me, but
'tisn't Adam, mind ; folks brought up
toofether from babies never turn into lovers,
somehow.'
' Don't you think so ?' said Eve. ^ Oh,
I don't know that ; I've heard tell of
several who've thought different, and have
married.'
* Have 'ee ? What, people you've
knowed 1* said Joan, earnestly ; ^ they
138 ADAM AND EVE.
who've always lived together in one house
as we've done! I should like to hear
about 'em, if 'twas only out of curiosity's
sake.'
But unfortunately, when put to the test,
Eve was unable, by further experience,
to substantiate her statement, and could
only repeat that, though she couldn't
bring their histories clearly to her mind,
she felt certain she had heard of such
people ; and Joan shook her head dis-
appointedly, saying, in an incredulous
voice :
' Ah, I can't credit it ; it doesn't seem
likely to me that ever such a thing could
come to pass.'
And she turned aside to speak to a
comely-looking woman, who came out to
the door of a near-by house which they
were passing.
ADAM AND E VE. 1 39
' Well, Joan, who've 'ee got there 1' she
called out.
While Eve, in order to allow of the
question being freely answered, turned to
look at the quaint weather-beaten pier.
Fortunately it was high- water, and the
unsightly deposits, often offensive to the
nose as well as the eyes, were hidden from
view.
Everything seemed bathed in sunlight,
and pervaded by a soft drowsy quiet. A
group of aged men leaned over and against
the bridge, enjoying a chat together ; some
boys lounged about the neighbouring rocks,
and seemingly played at catching fish ;
with these exceptions the whole village
seemed delivered up to women.
' 'Tain't much of a place to look at now,'
said a voice near.
And turning, Eve found it came from
140 ADAM AND EVE.
the woman belonging to the house into
which Joan had by this time entered.
* Polperro's a proper poor wisht place
when the boats is out.'
'Why, are there more boats than are
here now ?' asked Eve.
* What d'ee mane — than these here ?
Why, bless the maid, how do 'ee think
they'm to reach Guarnsey and places in
such like as they ? Why, did 'ee never see
a lugo^er ? No ? well, then, us has got
somethin' to show 'ee for all you've come
fra London.'
* Oh, you've many things here that I
wouldn't change for all the sights London
can show,' said Eve, promptly.
' We have % Why, what be they, then ?'
^ The country and the sea all around,
and everything so still and quiet. I was
thinking, as I sat looking out upon it all
ADAM AND EVE. 141
up on top there, that the people here
must be forced to be very good !'
* My hfe !' exclaimed the woman, turn-
ing round to Joan, ' 'tis time her was cut
for the simples. Why, do 'ee knaw,' she
said, addressing Eve, Hhat there ain't
a place far nor near that's to But
there,' she interrupted, ' I won't tell 'ee.
Ill only ax 'ee this much — come down here
this time next week, and tell me what ye
thinks of it then. Still and quiet, and
foced to be good !' she repeated. ' Well,
I'm blest I why, was 'ee born innicent, or
have 'ee bin took so all of a suddent V
Poor Eve blushed confusedly, feel-
ing, without knowing how, that she had
been guilty of displaying some unusual
want of sense ; while Joan, annoyed at
her being so openly laughed at, exclaimed
angrily :
142 ADAM AND EVE.
' Don't take no notice o' what she says.
Eve ; she's always teUing tip a passel o'
nonsense. And so 'tis just what Eve
says,' she added, sympathetically ; ^ a
stoopid old place half its time, with nobody
to see, and nothink to look at. If uncle
don't come by to-morrow, we two '11 go to
Looe or Fowey, or somewheres ; we won't
die o' the dismals in this old dungeon of a
hawl. Why t' sodgers 'ud be better than
nobody, I do declare !'
* 'Tis so well to wish for t' pressgang,
while you'm 'bout it,' laughed the woman;
^and I don't know but you mightn't give
'em a welcome neither, if they'd only find
their way up to Crumplehorne and fall in
Avith our Sammy a-twiddlin' his thumbs.
Have 'ee took her up to see yer mother
yet V she asked, jerking her finger towards
Eve, whose attention was by this time
ADAM AND EVE. U3
completely engrossed in examining the
contents of the well -furnished dresser. ^ I
say/ she said, answering Joan's pout and
shake of the head, ' there'll be a pretty
how-de-do if you doan't ; her was down
here sighing and groanin' her insides out
'cos somebody'd ha' told her they seed 'ee
to the wrastlin match. As I said, '' Why,
what be 'ee makin' that noise about, then?
There was as honest women there as your
Joan, or her mother afore her." I han't
a got patience wdth anybody settin' their
selves up so, 'cos they chance to come fra
Bodmint. " Fower wa-alls and a turnkey,"
as old Bungey said, when they axed what
he'd seed there ; and that's purty much
about it, I reckon, leastwise Avith most
that makes that journey. Still, if I was
you, Joan, I'd take her up, 'cos her knaws
her's here ; Sammy's a-told her that.'
144 ADAM AND E VE,
Joan spent a few minutes in reflection,
then she said :
' Eve, what d'ye say '? wilt 'ee go up
and see mother V
' Eh, Joan! mother — what, your mother?
Yes, I should like to very much. I was so
taken up with all this beautiful china,' she
said, apologetically, ' that I wasn't Hsten-
ing to what you were talking about.'
' Doesn't her clip her words V said the
hostess, who was a relation to Joan on the
father's side. ' 'Tis a purty way o' talkin'
though, and's all of a piece with her.
You've a lost somebody, my dear, haven't
'ee ?' she asked, looking at Eve's black
Grown.
^Yes, my mother,' said Eve, surprised
at the tone of sympathy the questioner
was able to throw into her voice.
* Ah, that's a sore loss, that is. I've a
ADAM AND EVE. 145.
lost my awn mother, so I can tell. Poor
old sawl ! I thinks I see her now !
When we childern had bin off, nobody
knows how long, and her worritin' and
thinkin' us was to bottom o' say, her d come
out with a girt big stick and herd leather
us till her couldn't stand, and call us all
the raskil rogues her could lay her tongue
to. I often thinks of it now, and it brings
back her words to me. ^^ You may find
another husband," her'd say, '^ or have
another chield, but there's niver but the
wan mother." And some o' that chane^'^
there was hers. Weil, that very cup and
sarcer you'm lookin' at now belonged to
she ! and so you take it, my dear, and
keep it. No ! nonsense, but you shall,.
now !' for Eve was protesting against ac-
cepting such a present. ' 'Twill only get
broked up into sherds here ; and if her was
VOL. I. 10
146 ADAM AND EVE.
alive, you'd a bin welcome to th' whole
dresserful, her was such a free - handed
woman I Chaney, tay, liquor, no matter
what — so long as she'd got, she'd give.'
'■ I think you must take after her/ said
Eve, rather embarrassed by such unex-
pected generosity ; ^ but T really feel as
if I was taking advantage of your good-
nature. I shall be afraid to admire any-
thing again, though that'll be a hard
thing to do in a place like this, where
everybody's got such lots of lovely
things.'
' Oh, 'twon't be long afore you'll have
as good as any one ; for, for sure, they'll
niver let 'er go back agen. So you'd better
write to the baws you've left behind and
tell 'em so to wance.'
Eve gave a shake of her head, which
served the double duty of disowning the
ADAM AND EVE. 147
impeachment of a beau, and bidding
farewell ; and the two girls turned up
the street, and only waiting to deposit
Eve's cup in a safe keeping-place,
they took their way towards Crumple-
horne.
The road recalled to Eve's recollec-
tion the way by which she had come,
though it seemed impossible that it was
only on the previous evening that she had
traversed it for the first time. The varied
scenes she had looked upon, the sensations
she had passed through, had spread the
day over a much longer space of time than
that occupied by twenty-four hours. Al-
ready Joan had made her feel as if she
was a friend whom she had known for
years. Even the people whom she
casually met broke the ice of first ac-
quaintanceship by such a decided plunge,
10—2
UB ADAM AND E VE.
that she was at once at home with them.
Altogether a new phase of hfe had opened
for her, and had suddenly swallowed up
her anxieties about the present, and her
regret about the future.
During the whole day, since the early
morning, not one thought of Keuben had
entered her mind ; a test, had she been
given to analyse her feelings, of her per-
fect contentment. For as long as Eve
was happy, Reuben would be forgotten;
let disappointment or regret set in, and
her thoughts veered round to him.
* Why, you've turned silent all to once,'
said Joan, tired of her own five minutes'
reflections.
' I was thinking,' said Eve.
' What about ?' asked Joan.
* Why, I was thinking that I couldn't
believe 'twas no more than last niofht I
ADAM AND EVE. 149
passed by here — oh! with such a heavy .
heart, Joan !' and at the remembrance her
eyes swam with tears.
' And for why V said Joan, in some
surprise.
' Oh, because I began to feel that I was
coming to where you'd all be strange to
me ; and I wondered whether I'd done
right in leaving my own home Avhere
mother and me had lived together so
long.'
' Hadn't 'ee any else to leave behind but
the thoughts o' your mother V interrupted
Joan, practically.
' No.' Then, feeling this was not quite
true, she added : ' That is, nobody that I
minded much — not that I cared to leave.
I had somebody that didn't like me going,
and begged me to stay — but that was only
a friend.'
150 ADAM AND EVE.
^ A friend ?' repeated Joan^ incredulously
— ^a friend that sticketh closer than a
brother, I reckon. Come now, you may
so well tell me all about it ; I'm sure to
get at it sooner or later. What's his name,
ehr
* Oh, I don't mind tellin' you his name,'
laughed Eve. ' Keuben May, that's his
name ; but 'tisn't he I want to speak of
— 'tis you, Joan, for makin' me feel so at
home all at once. I shall never foro^et it,
never I'
And as she turned her face toward Joan,
the drops which had trembled in her eyes
fell on her cheeks.
* Why, what nonsense next !' exclaimed
Joan, impulsively threading her arm
through Eve's, and hugging it close
up to her ; ' as if anybody could help
being kind to 'ee. 'Tis only to look in your
A DAM AND E VE. 1 f) 1
face, and you can't do no other ; and
mind, 'tis none o' my doin's that you'm
here,' she continued, following out her
own train of thought. ' I was that set
agenst your comin', as you never did. I
couldn't abide the thoughts of it. Adam,
and me too, took on with uncle ever so,
when he would have 'ee come ; but 'twas
no use, there was no turnin' un ; and now
I wouldn't have it otherwise for iver
so. You'm so altogether differnt to
what I looked for ; I thought you'd
be mimpin' and mincin', and that nothin'
'ud please 'ee, and you'd be cuttin' up a
Dido w^ith everything and everybody ;
'stead o' which 'tis as if I'd know'd 'ee all
my life, and you'd bin away and come
back agen.'
' Oh, I am so glad,' said Eve, laugh-
ing in the midst of her tears ; ' for when
152 ADAM AND EVE.
youVe lost everybody, as I have, something
in your heart seem always pining after
people's love/
^ Which you mostly gets, I reckon,'
said Joan, smiling. ''Tis that innicent
sort o' look you'm got, and yer mild way
o' sjieakin', that does it, I 'spects. But you
must pluck up a spirit afore the men ' —
for Eve had been telling her how en-
tirely unaccustomed she was to any but
female companionship — ^ and be ready with
an answer afore they speak, so impident
as some of 'em be. They know 'tis no use
tr3dn' it on with me, though. I gives 'em
so good as they brings, any day ; and
that's what men like, you knov/ — plenty
o' courage, and a woman that isn't afraid
o' anything or anybody ; for, no matter
how I feel, I'd die afore I'd show any
fear.'
ADA^f AND EVE. 153
' But I should show the fear, and die
too/ said Eve.
* Not a bit of it,' laughed Joan ; ' I'll
give 'ee a lesson or two so that you shan't
know yourself for the same.' Then, sud-
denly stopping and drawing down her face,
she said : ' But '' there's a time for every-
thing," said Solomon the wise, and that
time ain't now, for there's the mill, and 'tis
in here that my mother lives. And
Eve,' she continued, turning round in
the act of giving the gate a hoist pre-
paratory to swinging it open, ' if so be
mother should begin about uncle and they,
don't you take no heed, 'cos what she
says doesn't lie deeper down than her
tongue, and she only says it to keep in
with the chapel-folks.'
Eve was spared the awkwardness of
any reply, by having to bestow all her
154 ADAM AND EVE.
attention on picking her steps through
the mud by which the gate was surrounded,
for from most of the people carrying their
corn to be ground, and not unfrequently
waiting about until the process was ac-
complished, the approach to the mill
w^as seldom or never anything but a
slough, of a consistency varying with the
state of the weather. A few yards on^
this miry path turned off to the right,
leaving a tolerably free space of well-
washed pebbles, in the midst of which was
the dwelling-house, the door of which was
conveniently placed so that it commanded
a full view of the out- gate. In a straight
line with this door, the upper half of
which, after the prevailing fashion, was
left open, a little round table was set, and
behind this table Eve, drawing nearer,
perceived an elderly person, whom she
ABAM A. YD EVE. 155
supposed must be Mrs. Tucker. But, not-
standing that by this time the two girls
were close by, Mrs. Tucker's face con-
tinued immovable, her eyes fixed, and
her fingers knitting away as if no mundane
object could possibly engross such steadfast
attention.
The gaze so completely ignored the
presence of her visitors, that by the time
Joan had got up to the door, Eve had
found ample time to take a critical survey
of Mrs. Tuckers personal appearance,
which formed such a contrast to Joan's,
that it was difficult to reconcile it with
the close relationship which existed be-
tween them.
Mrs. Tucker seemed tall, flat, and bony ;
her dress was drab, her kerchief black, and
her cap, under which her hair was all
hidden, was fashioned after the model of
156 ADAM AND EVE,
a Quaker's. Still her face, though stern,
was not unpleasing, and its form and
features were, on the whole, better
modelled and more delicately cast than
her daughter's.
' Well, Joan !' she said at length, with
a, touch of displeasure in her voice.
* Well, mother !' answered Joan, with a
corresponding modicum of defiance.
Then there was a pause, during which
Joan evidently waited for her mother
to say something to Eve, but this hope
being vain, she was forced into saying,
with a trifle more aggression :
'Ain't you goin' to say nothin' to
Eve, mother ? I brought her up a-pur-
pose, fancyin' you'd like to see her, p r'aps,
and 'ud be put out if I didn't.'
And stepping on one side, she threw
Eve into the foreground, and obliged
ADAM AND EVE. 157
her to advance with the timid air of one
who is uncertain of her welcome.
' I don't know why I should be expected
to know people afore I've heerd their
names,' said Mrs. Tucker, stiffly ; ' but, if
this is Eve — ^vhy — how do you find
yourself?' and she made just sufficient
pause between the two parts of her sen-
tence to give the idea that the greeting,
prompted by politeness, had been curtailed
by principle.
^ I feel better to-day,' said Eve, grow-
ing confused under the scrutiny she was
undergoing.
' My son-in-law, Samuel, told me that
you seemed very tired by your
journey.'
* Yes,' answered Eve, feeling her in-
different treatment of Samuel might be
the cause of this cool greeting ; ' I fear he
158 ADAM AND EVE.
thought me but poor company. I hardly
spoke a word all the way.'
* Well, if you'd nothin' to say, 'tis so
well to hold yer tongue ; as I tell Joan,
'tis but a poor clapper that's allays on the
tinkle. Why didn't you come up to dinner
then, Joan ?' she said, turning to her
daughter. ' We mightn't have got dainties
to set Eve down to, but we've allays got
somethin' to eat, thank the Lord.'
* I couldn't tell but what uncle might
be home, and we can't stay now long, for
they may be in any hour.'
' Ah, then uncle hasn't seen Eve yet ? I
should say he'd be disappointed not to find
her more featured like her father's family.'
'■ I don't know why he should be, then,'
said Joan, sharply. ' I can't tell who she's
featured after, but somebody a sight better-
looking than any o' the Pascal lot.'
ADAAf AND EVE, 159
* That's as people see/ said Mrs. Tucker,
grimly.
' Oil yes,' returned Joan, recklessly ;
* 'tis free tliought, and free speech, and
free trade here, and long life to it, I
says.'
' And ^vhat do you say, Eve V asked
Mrs. Tucker.
* Eve can't say anythin' about what
she don't know nothin', can ye, Eve '?'
said Joan ; ' but as far as she's sin, she
likes the place dearly, and the people too,
and she don't intend to go back to London
never no more.'
' Oh, Joan, Joan ! don't say that !' ex-
claimed Eve, trying to give a more pleasant
turn to the discord which was evidently im-
pending between the mother and daughter.
While Mrs. Tucker said :
* 'Tis early days to make up your mind,
160 ADAM AND EVE,
seeing you haven't sin yer uncle yet, nor
he you. Joan allays forgets that there's
more than she has got a voice in matters.'
' No, Joan don't, mother ; and you'll see
that there'll be more than uncle and me
beggin' her to stay. Adam hasn't seed her
yet,' and the girl looked up with an ex-
pression of defiance.
' That's true,' replied Mrs. Tucker, with-
out altering a tone or a feature ; ^ Eve
has got to see both the baws — Adam and
Jerrem, too. 'Tis to be hoped you'll take
to Jerrem, Eve,' she said, glancing in
Joan's direction, 'or your uncle will be
sore put out ; he seems to have got his
heart set 'pon you and Jerrem makin' a
match of it.'
* He hasn't done nothin' o' the sort,' re-
turned Joan, fiercely ; ' and 'tisn't right in
you to say so, mother, 'cos uncle, in a joke-
ADAM AND EVE, 161
like, said somethiii' in a laughing way,
but he didn't mean it no more for Jerrem
than he did for Adam ; and, as Eve
hasn't sin neither of 'em, 'tis as Hkely she
takes to one as t'other, and more when she
knows 'twould be disappointin' me, for I
loves Jerrem dearly, Eve, and I don't care
who knows it, neither.'
'■ I think if I was a young pusson, I
should wait 'til I was axed afore I was so
very free in offering my company to any-
body,' said Mrs. Tucker, worked at last
into some show of anger.
' Oh, no need for that,' laughed the
irrepressible Joan. ' So long as we under-
stands each other, whether Jerrem tells me
or I tells he, it comes to the same thinsr :
and, now that we've had our hasforle out,
mother, I think 'tis so well us goes ;' and
she jumped up, but so heedlessly that the
VOL. I. 11
162 ADAM AND EVE.
tucked-up train of her gown caught in the
handle of a neighbouring cupboard -door,
and she had to stand still while Eve
endeavoured to disentangle it.
^ There's one thing I'm glad to see,' said
Mrs. Tucker, taking note of the two girls
as they stood side by side, ^ and that is,
that Eve's clothes is consistent, and I
hope she's got the sense to keep 'em so,
and not be a-bedizenin' herself out with
all manner o' things as you do, Joan.
I'm fairly fo'ced to close my eyes for the
dazzle o' that chintz. Whatever you canJbe
thinkin o' yerself to go dressin up in that
rory-tory stuff, I don't know. Does it
never enter yer poor vain head that yer
miserable body will be ate up by worms
some day *?'
' They won't eat it up any the more 'cos
o' this chintz gown, mother. Ain't it
ADAM AND E VE. 1 6 3
sweet and purty ?' she added, turning to
Eve. ' 'Tis a rale booty, that 'tis ; there
isn't the hke of it in the place. 'Twas gived
to me a Christmas present,' she added
significantly, while the displeasure deepened
in Mrs. Tucker's face, so that Eve tried
to throw a little reproof into the look she
gave Joan, for she saw plainly enough that
mother and daughter were at cross-purposes
about somebody, and Joan was bent upon
teasing.
Whether Joan noticed the expres-
sion, she could not tell ; but, after a
minute's pause, she broke out passionately,
saying :
' How can 'ee find it in yer heart to act
as ye do, mother, never havin' a good
word or a kuid thought for a j^oor sawl
who hasn't nobody to cling to natural-
like '{ Any one 'ud think the religion you'm
11—2
164 ADAM AND EVE.
allays preachin up would teach 'ee better
than that.'
' Everybody in theh^ j^lace, that's my
motter,' said Mrs. Tucker, whose stolid
manner was vividly contrasted with her
daughter's excitable temperament ; ' and
the place o' strangers ain't that o' childern.
Now, 'tis of no use bidin' here to cavil,
Joan,' she continued, seeing that Joan was
about to answer her. ' I've used the same
words to your aunt, and your uncle too,
scores o' times, and said then, as I say
now, that a day may come when the3r
rues it ; and all I pray for is that my mis-
givins' mayn't come to pass.'
' Iss ; well, I think you may let that
prayer bide now, mother 1' exclaimed Joan ;
♦there's plenty else things to pray for
besides that, and people too. There's me ;
you've always got me on hand, you know.'
ADAM Ai\D EVE. 165
* I don't forget you, Joan ; you may
make your mind easy o' that,' said Mrs.
Tucker.
' Well, here's Eve, you can give her a
turn now.'
' Very like I might do Vv'orsc, for I dare
swear Eve ain't beyond needing guidance
more than other young maidens.'
^ No, indeed/ said Eve ; ' none of us are
too good, and I often have the wish to be
different from what I am.'
* Ah, 'tain't much good if you don't go
no further than wishin'/ said Mrs. Tucker;
' so far as wishin' goes, you might sit there
and wish you was home, but you wouldn't
be a step the further near to it.'
* That's true,' broke in Joan, ' for I've
bin wishin' myself home this hour and
more, and so I should think had Eve,
too.'
16G ADAM AND EVE.
* Oh, I dare say/ said Mrs. Tucker. * I
know very well that I'm no great company
for young folks ; but a time may come —
when I'm dead and gone and mouldin'in my
grave, though you may both be left behind
— to prove that the words I've a spoke is
true ; for we all do fade as a leaf, and are
born to sorrow as the sparks flies upwards;'
and with this salient remark, Mrs. Tucker
allowed the two girls to depart, Joan fairly
running, in her anxiety to be out of the
place, the further gate of which she
flung open with such force that it closed
behind them with a swinging noise that
seemed to afford her much relief, and she
gave vent to a loud sigh, saying :
^ Now, Eve, isn't m^other too much for
anybody? She just works me up till I
could say anything. There, don't 'ee look
like that at me, 'cos 'tis her fault so much
ADAJf AND EVE. 1 G 7
as mine. She knows what I am^ and what
sets me up, and yet that's the very thing
she pitches on to talk about.'
' I fancy you say things, though, that
vex her too,' said Eve, smihng.
But Joan did not return the smile ; her
face grew more cloudy as she said :
* Perhaps I do — I dare say; but you don't-
know all the ins and outs. Some day, hap-
pen, I may tell 'ee — 't all depends.' And she
gave another sigh. ' But 'tis shameful to set
Adam up agen Jerrem, and that mother's
sure to do if ever she finds the chance.
She'd tell another story if she'd got to live
with 'em both, and was allays tryin' to set
all straight between the two, as I am : and
Jerrem so madcap and feather-brained as
he is, and Adam like a bit o' touch-paper
for temper.'
* I half think I shall like Jerrem better
168 ADAM AND EVE.
than I shall Adam/ said Eve, with a sly
look, intended to rouse Joan from her
grave mood.
' Do 'ee ?' said Joan, v/ith a smile which
began to chase away the cloud from her
face. 'But no ; you haven't seen the two
of 'em together yet, Eve. When you do,
I'll wager 'tis Adam you'll choose.'
Eve shook her head.
' I'm never one to be taken by looks,'
she said. ' Besides, if he was everybody's
choice, why isn't he yours — eh, Mrs.
Joan V
Joan feigned to laugh, but in the midst
of the laugh she burst out crying, sobbing
hysterically as she said :
* Oh, because I'm nothin' but Cousin
Joan, to be made much of when there's
nobody else, and forgot all about if an-
other's by !'
ADAM AND EVE. 169
Eve stood amazed. This sudden shift-
ing mood Avas a mystery to her; she hardly
knew what to say or do. Surely her
speech could not have pained Joan 1 if so,
how ? and why ? She was still hesitating,
and thinking what comfort she could offer,
when Joan raised her head with the visible
intention of saying something — but in
a moment her attention v;as arrested ;
she took two or three steps forward, then,
apparently forgetful of all else, she ex-
claimed :
' It must be they ! Yes, there's another !
Quick, Eve ! run, 'tis the boats ! One o'
'em's in sight, and most like 'tis uncle's !
If we don't look sharp they'll be in 'fore
we can get home.'
CHAPTER YII.
10 AN in front, Eve within speak-
ing-distance behind, the two
girls made all haste to reach
the village, where Joan's anticipations
were confirmed by the various people with
whom, in passing, she exchanged a few
words.
Coming within sight of the house, a
sudden thought made her turn and say :
^ Eve, wouldn't 'ee like to see 'em
comin' in, eh ? There's lio^ht enouo^h left if
us looks sharp about it.'
ADAM AND EVE. 171
Eve's lack of breath obliofed her to
signify her ready assent by several nods,
which Joan rightly interpreting, off she
ran in advance to leave a few necessary
directions about supper ; after which she
joined Eve, and together they hurried
on towards a small flat space just under
the Chapel rock, where a group of people
were already assembled.
The sun was sinking, and its depart-
ing glory hung like a cloud of fire in
the west, and flecked the sea with golden
light ; the air was still, the water calm,
and only rippled where the soft south-west
breeze came full upon it.
Several small vessels lay dotted about^
but standing out apart from these were two
of larger size and different rig, one of
which just headed the other.
' 'Tis uncle's in front,' said a weather-
1 72 ADAM AND E VE.
beaten old fellow, turniDg round to Joan,
who, for Eve's convenience, had taken
her stand on the rising hillock behind.
^ T' hindermost one's the Stamp and
Go:
' Never fear, the Lottery '11 niver
be t' hindermost one,' said Joan, boast-
fully.
' Not if Adam's to helm,' lauo^hed another
man near : ' he'd rather steer to ^ kinof-
dom come' first, then make good land
.second.'
^ And right he should, and why not V
exclaimed Joan ; ' t' hasn't come to Adam's
luck yet to learn the toons they play on
second fiddles.'
' Noa, that's true,' replied the man, ^ and
'tis to be hoped 't never will ; t' ud come
rayther hard 'pon un up this time o' day, I
reckon.'
ADAM AND E VE. 17a
' I 'spose uncle's had word the coast's all
clear,' said Joan, anxiously.
' Awh, he kno^vs what he's about. Never
fear uncle ; he can count ten, he can. He
wouldn't be rinnin in, in broad day, too,
without he could tell how the coast's
lyin'.'
' Why don't they sail straight in ?' asked
Eve, following with great interest each
movement made.
' 'Cos if they hugged the land too tight
they'd lose the breeze,' said Joan. ' Her
don't know nothin' 'bout vessels,' she said,
apologising for Eve's ignorance. ^ Her's^
only just comed here ; her lives up to
London.'
' Awh, London, is it !' was echoed round,
while the old man who had first spoken,
wishing to place himself on a friendly foot-
ini:^ with the new arrival, said :
1 74 ADAM AND E VE.
^Awli, if 'tis London, I've a bin to
London too, I have.'
^ What, Hving there ?' asked Eve
' Wa-al, that's as you may choose to call
it : t'warn't much of a life, though,
shovellin' up mud in the Thames river fra'
mornin' to night. Ho wsomdever, that's what
they sot me to do, ^' for chatin' the King's
revenoos," ' he quoted, with a comical air of
bewilderment. ' Chatin' 1' he repeated,
with a snort of contempt, ' that's a voine
word to fling at a chap vur try in' to git a
honest livin' ; but there, they'm fo'ced to say
sommat, I 'spose, though you mayn't spake,
mind. Lord no ! you mun stand by like
Mumphazard, and get hanged for sayin'
nothin' at all.'
' Joan, look ! why, they've got past !'
exclaimed Eve, as the foremost of the
two vessels, taking instant advantage of a
ADAM AA'D E VE. 1 75
piifF of wind, gave a spurfc and shot past
the mouth of the httle harbour. ^ Isn't it
in here they've got to come ?'
' All right ; only you Avait,' laughed
Joan, ' and see how he'll bring her round.
There, didn't I tell 'ee so !' she exclaimed
triumphantly. ' Where's the Stamp and
Go now, then V she called out, keeping her
eyes fixed on the two vessels, one of which
had fallen short by a point, and so had got
under lee of the peak, where she remained
with her square brown sail flapping help-
lessly, while the other made her way to-
wards the head of the outer pier. ' Now
'tis time for us to be off. Eve. Come
along, or they'll be home before us.'
And, joining the straggling group who
were already descending, the two girls
took their way back to the house, Joan
laughing and vaunting the seamanship of
17G ADAM AND EVE.
her cousin, while Eve lagged silently
behind with sinking spirits, as the prospect
of meeting her new relations rose vividly
before her. Puttino^ tos^ether the thino^s
she had heard and seen, the hints dropped
by Joan, and the fashion in which the
house was conducted, Eve had most un-
willino-lv come to the conclusion that her
uncle gained his living by illicit trading,
and was, indeed, nothing less than a
smuggler — a being Eve only knew
by name, and by some image which
that name conjured up. A smuggler,
pirate, bandit — all three answered to an
ancient, black-framed picture hanging up
at home, in which a petticoated figure,
with a dark, beringleted face, stood
flourishing a pistol in one hand and a
cutlass in the other, while in the sash
round his waist he displayed every other
ADAM AND EVE. 177
impossible kind of weapon. Surely her
uncle could be in no way like that, for such
men were always brutal, bloodthirsty ;
and she, so unused to men at all, what
would become of her ? amons: a lawless
crew, perhaps, whose drunken orgies might
end in quarrels, violence, murder
* Ah !' and the terrified scream she gave
sent Joan flying back from the few yards
in advance to see Eve shrinking timidly
away from a young fellow who had run up
behind and thrown his arm round her
waist.
' Why, for all the world, 'tis Adam !' ex-
claimed Joan, receiving a smacking kiss
from the offender, who was laughing
heartily at the fright he had occasioned.
' Why, Eve, what a turn you give me,
to be sure ! Here, Adam, this is cousin
Eve. Come here and shake hands with
VOL. I. 12
1 78 ADAM AND E VE.
un, Eve. Where's uncle ? is he ashore yet ?
We've bin watchin' of 'ee comin' in. Why,
Eve, you'm all of a trimble ! Only do 'ee feel
her hand ; she's shakin' all over like a leaf.'
^ 'Twill pass in a minute,' said Eve,
vexed that she had betrayed her nervous-
ness ; ' 1 was thinking, that was the
reason.'
* I'm sure I never meant to frighten
you,' said Adam, who, now that the group
of bystanders had moved on, began offer-
ing an apology ; ' I took her for one o' the
maidens here, or I shouldn't ha' made so
free.'
' Oh, you'll forgive him, won't ye. Eve f
' I hope so,' said Adam ; ' 'twon't do to
begin our acquaintance with a quarrel,
will it \ And I haven't told ye that we're
glad to see ye, or anything yet/ he added,
seeing that Joan had hastened on, leaving
ADAM AND EVE. 179
them together, ' though there's not much
need for sayin' what I hope you know
already. When did you come, then. Cousin
Eve, eh V
' Yesterday/
' Oh ! you didn't get in before yesterday ?
and you came in the Mary Jane with Isaac
Triggs V
'Yes/
Eve had not sufficiently recovered her-
self to give more than a direct answer,
and as she still felt dreadfully annoyed at
her silly behaviour, she had not raised her
eyes, and so could not see the interest with
which her companion was regarding her ;
in fact, she was hardly attending to what
he said, so anxious w^as she to find the
exact words in which to frame the apology
she, in her turn, was bent on making.
There was no further time for deliberation,
12—2
1 80 ADAM AND E VE.
for already Adam had pushed open the
door, and then, as he turned, Eve got
out :
'You mustn't think I'm very silly,
cousin, because I seem so to-night ; but I
ain't accustomed ' and she hesitated.
' To have a young man's arm around
your waist '?' he said slyly.
' That wasn't what I v/as going to say ;
though, as far as that goes, nobody ever
did that to me before.'
' Is that true X he laughed. Then he
called out, ' Here, Joan, bring a candle.
Cousin Eve and I want to see each
other ; we don't know what we're like to
look at yet.'
' In a minute,' answered Joan, appearing
in less than that time with a candle in her
hand ; * there, if you'm in a hurry, I'll be
candlestick,' and she put herself between
ADAM AND E VE. 181
the two, holdino' the hHit above her head.
* Now, how d'3^e find yourselves, good
people, eh ? so good-looking, or better than
you thought ?'
' Ah ! that's not for you to know, Mrs.
Pert,' laughed Adam ; ' but stay, we've
got to kiss the candlestick, haven't
we ?'
' That's as you please,' said Joan, hold-
ing up her face to Eve, who was bending
down to fulfil the request when Adam
caught hold of her, saying :
' Come, come, 'tis my turn first ; it's
hard if a cousin can't have a kiss.'
But Eve had drawn herself back with a
resolute movement, as she said :
' I don't like being kissed by men ; 'tisn't
what I've been used to.'
.'Well, but he's your cousin,' put in
Joan ; ' a cousin ain't like another man ;
1 82 ADAM AND E VE.
though there's no great harm in anybody,
so far as I see.'
But Adam turned away, saying :
' Let be, Joan ; I'm not one to force my-
self where I'm not wanted.'
Fortunately, before any awkwardness
could arise from this slight misunderstand-
ing, a diversion was caused by the entrance
of Uncle Zebedee, whose genial, good-
tempered face beamed as he took in the
comfortable room and family group.
' Well, Joan,' he said, as Joan ran for-
ward to meet him, ' and who's this ? not
poor Andrew's little maid, to be sure I
"Why, I'm glad to give 'ee welcome, my
dear. How be 'ee % when did 'ee come ?
Has her bin good to 'ee, eh ? gived 'ee
plenty to ate and drink. I'll into her if she
ha'n't, the wench !' and he pulled Joan
lovingly towards him, holding back Eve
ADAM AND E VE. 183
with the other hand so that he might
take a critical survey of her. ^ I say,
Joan, what do 'ee say ? 'tis a purty bit o'
goods, ain't it ?'
Joan nodded assent.
' Why, who's her Hke, eh % not her poor
father — no, but somebody I've know'd.
"Why, I'll tell 'ee — my sister Avice that was
drownded saving another maid's life, that's
who 'tis. Well, now I never ! to think o'
Andrew's maid bein like she ! Well, she
was a reglar pictur, she war, and so good
as she war handsome.'
* That shows us both comes o' one
family,' said Joan, rubbing her rosy cheek
against the old man's weather-stained
visage.
' Not a bit of it,' he laughed ; * but I'll
tell 'ee what, she's got a touch of our Adam
here, so well as bein' both named together,
184 ADAM AND EVE.
too. My feyther, poor ole chap, lie couldn't
abide his name hisself noways, but us two
lads, Andrew and me, us allays swor'd
that our childern, whether boys or maids,
'cordin as they com'd fust, should be
Adams and Eves, and us kept our words,
the both of us, ye see. Here, Adam I
he called, ' come hither, lad, and stand up
beside thy cousin. I want to take measure
of 'ee together, side by side.'
But Adam, though he must have heard^
neither answered nor came in ; and after
waiting for a few minutes, his father, by
way of apology, premised to Eve that
he had gone up to ^ titivate a bit ; ' while,
jerking his finger over his shoulder, he
asked Joan, in a stage aside, ^ If the wind
had shifted anyways contrary.'
Joan shook her head, answering in a low
voice that it would be all right, and she
ADAAf AND EVE. 185
would run out and hasten in the supper ;
and some ten minutes later, while Eve
was detailino^ to her uncle some of the
events of her past life — how her mother and
she had lived, and how they had managed
to support themselves — Adam reappeared,
and Uncle Zebedee, pointing to a seat
near, endeavoured to include him in the
conversation ; but whether Eve's past
history had no interest for her cousin, or
whether he had not quite overlooked her
small rebuff, she could not decide. At any
rate, he seemed to be much more amused
by teasing Joan, and as Joan was by no
means unwilling to return his banter while
she moved about and in and out the room,
the two carried on a very smart fire of
rough joking, which gradually began to in-
terest Uncle Zebedee, so that he left off
talking to listen ; and very soon Eve
186 ADAM AND E VE.
found herself at liberty to indulge her
hitherto restrained curiosity, and take a
critical survey of Adam, who lounged on a
chest opposite, with his whole attention so
apparently engrossed by Joan, as to render
it doubtful whether the very existence of
such a person as Eve had not entirely
escaped his recollection.
Certainly, Adam was a man externally
fitted to catch the fancy of most women,
and nettled as Eve was by his seeming
indifference to herself, she tried in vain
to discover some fault of person to which
she could take objection ; but it was of
no use battling with the satisfaction her
eyes had in resting on such perfection,
heightened by the gratifying knowledge
that between them an evident likeness ex-
isted. Adam had the same fair skin, which
exposure had tanned but could not redden ;
ADAM AND EVE. 187
his hair, although of a warmer tint, was of
a shade similar to her own ; his eyes were
gre}^ his brows and lashes dark.
Absorbed in trying to compare each
separate feature, Eve seemed lost in
the intensity of her gaze, so that when —
Adam suddenly looking round — their eyes
met (during one of those lapses for which
Time has no measurement) Eve sat
fascinated and unable to withdraw her
gaze. A kindred feeling had apparently
overcome Adam too, for — the spell broken
— he jumped up and, with something be-
tween a shake and a shiver, walked abruptly
to the far end of the room.
* Here, Adam,' called out Joan, who
had stepped into the outer kitchen, ' don't
'ee go out now, like a dear. I'm just
takin' the things up ; supper won't be a
minute afore it's in, and if it's put back
188 ADAM AND EVE.
now 'twill all be samsawed and not worth
eatin.'
And, to strengthen her entreaty, she
hastened in and set on the table a sub-
stantial, smoking-hot pie.
' Why, wherever now has Eve got
to ?' she exclaimed, looking round the
room. ^ I left her sittin' there not a
minute agone/
' Eh ? what ? who's gone ?' exclaimed
Uncle Zebedee, roused from a cat's sleep
in which, with a sailor-like adaptation of
opportunity, he was always able to occupy
any spare five minutes.
^ I think she ran upstairs,' said Adam ;
'here, I'll call her,' he added, intercepting
Joan as she moved towards the door,
which, from the innermost portion of the
room, led to the upper part of the house.
' Cousin Eve !' he called out, * Cousin
ABAAf AND EVE. 189
Eve ! supper's waitin', but we can't begin
till you come down.'
' Iss, and bear a hand like a good maid/
chimed in Uncle Zebedee, ' for we haven't
had nothin' to spake of to clane our teeth
'pon this last forty-eight hours or so ; and I
for one am pretty sharp set, I can tell 'ee.'
This appeal being irresistible, Eve
hastened down, to find Adam standing so
that, when she put her hand on the door
handle, he, under the pretence of opening
it to a wider convenience, put his hand
over hers, leaving Eve in doubt
whether the unnecessary pressure Avas the
result of accident or an attempt at reconci-
liation. One thing was evident, Adam was
bent on thoroughly doing the honours of
the table ; he made a point of assisting
Eve himself; he consulted her preference,
and offered the various things to her,
190 ADAM AND EVE.
attentions which Eve, as a stranger and a
guest^ thought herself, from the son of the
house, perfectly entitled to, but which
Joan viewed with amazement, not liking,
as it was Adam, to interfere, but feeling
confident that Eve must be very embar-
rassed by a politeness not at all current
in Polperro, where the fashion w^as for the
men to eat and drink, and the women to
sit by and attend upon them.
But Adam was often opposed to general
usage, and any deviation was leniently
accepted by his friends as the result of his
having been schooled at Jersey— a circum-
stance that Joan considered he was now bent
upon showing off, and noting that, do or
say what he might, Eve would not raise
her eyes, she pitied her confusion, and
good-naturedly tried to come to her rescue
by endeavouring to start some conversation.
ADAM AND EVE. 191
' Did 'ee try to reason with Jerrem,
Adam V she asked, reverting to a portion
of their previous talk.
' Reason !' he answered pettishly, ' what
good is there in anybody reasoning with
himr
* Awh, but he'll always listen to a soft
word,' said Joan, pleadingly ; ' you can lead
Jerrem anyways by kindness.'
' Pity you weren't there, then, to manage
him,' said Adam, in not the most pleasant
tone of voice.
^ Well, I wish you had bin there, Joan,'
said Uncle Zebedee, decisively, ' for I ain't
half well plased at the boy bein' left be-
hind ; he'll be gettin' into some mischief
that 'twon't be so aisy to free un from. I'd
rayther be half have spoke to un sharp
mysel', he heays minds anythin' I says to
un, he does.'
1 92 ADAM AND E VE.
* 'Tis a pity then you've held your tongue
so long,' said Adam, whose face began to
betray signs of rising displeasure. ' I only
know this, that over and over again
you've said that you wouldn't run the risk
of bein' kept waitin' about when he knew
the time for startin'. Why, no later than
the last run you said that if it happened
agen you'd go without him.'
' Iss, iss — 'tis true I said so,' said the old
man, querulously ; * but he knaw'd I didn't
mane it. How should I, when I've bin a
youngster mysel', and all of us to Madam
Perrot's, dancin' and fiddlin' away like mad ?
"Why, little chap as I be,' he added, look-
ing round at the two girls with becoming
pride, ''t 'as taken so many as six t' hold me;
and when they've a-gotten me to the boat
they've had to thraw me into the watter
till I've bin a' but drownded 'fore they
ADAM AND EVE. 193
could knack a bit o' sense into me. But
what of it all ? why, I be none the warse
for matter o' that, I hopes/
Adam felt his temper waxing hot within
him, and having no wish that any further
display of it should be then manifested, he
rose up from the table, saying it was time
he ran down to the boat aofain : and old
Zebedee, warned by an expressive frown
from Joan, swallowed down the remainder
of his reminiscences, and kept a discreet
silence until the retreating footsteps of his
son assured him that he could relieve him-
self without fear of censure.
* 'Tis along of his bein' a scholard, I
s'pose r he exclaimed, with the air of one
seeking to solve a perplexity, ' but he's
that agen anybody bein' the warse o' a drap
o' liquor as niver was.'
' Jerrem's one that's too easily led astray,'
VOL. I. 13
194 ADAM AND E VE.
said Joan, by way of explaining to Eve
the bearings of the case, ' and, once away,
he forgets all but what's goin on around
un ; and that don't do, ye know, 'cos when
he's bin told that they'm to start at a cer-
tain time he ought to be there so well as the
rest, 'specially as he knaws what Adam
is/
' Iss, and that's the whole rights of it,'
returned Zebedee, with a conclusive nod ;
^ Maister Adam goes spakin' up about last
time. ^' And mind, we ain't agoin' to wait
for no wan," ' — and the imitation of his son's
voice conveyed the annoyance the words
had probably given — ' and the boy's blid
was got up. 'Tis more than strange that
they two, brought up like brothers, can't
never steer wan course. I'd rayther than
twenty pound that this hadn't happened/
he added, after a pause.
ADAM AND E VE. 1 95
' But how corned 'ee to go when you
knawed he wasn't there X asked Joan.
' I never knawed he warn't there/ re-
pUed the okl man. ' I can't think how
'twas,' he said, scratching his head in the
effort to assist his memory ; 'I'd a bin up
to Reinolds's, takin' a drap wi' wan or two,
and, somehow, I don't mind about nawthin
much more, till us was well past the
Spikles ; and then, after a time, I axed for
the lad, and out it all comes.'
* And what did 'ee say 1' said Joan.
' Wa-al, what could I say ? no thin' that
'ud fetch un back then. 'Sides, Adam kept
flingin' it at me how that I'd a said las'
time I waidn't wait agen. But what if I
did ? I knawed, and he knawed, and Jerrem
knawed, 'twas nawthin more than talk.
Moroover which, T made sure he'd ha'
come with Zeke Johns in the Stamp and
13—2
196 ADAM AND E VE.
Go. But no, they hadn't a laid eyes on
un, though they started a good bit after
we.'
' He's sure to get on all right, I s'pose V
said Eve, questioningly.
* Awh, he can get on fast enough if he's
a minded to. 'Tain't that I'm thinkin' on, 'tis
the bad blid a set brewin' 'twixt the two of
'em. If I only knawed how, I'd send un
a bit o' my mind in a letter,' he added,
looking at Joan.
' Wa-al, who could us get to do it, then ?
There's Jan Curtis,' she said reflectively,
^ only he's to Looe ; and there's Sammy
Tucker — but Lord ! 'twould be all over the
place, and no holding mother anyways; she'd
be certain to let on to Adam.'
' It mustn't come to Adam's ears,' said
Zebedee, decisively. ' Can't 'ee think o'
nobody else scholard enuf 1'
ADAM AND EVE. 197
^ If it's nothing but a letter, I can write,
Uncle Zebedee,' said Eve rather shyly,
and not quite clear ^Yhether Joan did or
did not possess the like accomplish-
ment.
' Can 'ee thouofh !' exclaimed Uncle
Zebedee, facing round to get a better view
of this prodigy ; while Joan, with a mixture
of amazement and admiration, said :
' Not for sure ? Well I niver ! And
you'll do it too, won't 'ee V
' With all my heart, if uncle will tell me
what to say.'
' But mind, not a word before Adam,
Eve,' said Joan, hastily ; * 'cos, if he's
minded, he can write a hand like copper-
plate.'
' And 'ee thinks two of a trade wouldn't
aoree, is that it V lauorhed Zebedee.
Joan shook her head.
198 ADAM AND EVE.
' Never you mind/ she said, ' but only
wait till next Valentine's day's a come^ and
won't us two have a rig with somebody
that shall be nameless !'
' Only hark to her !' chuckled old Zebedee,
answering Joan's significant look by the
most appreciative wink. ^ Ah ! but her's
a good-hearted maid/ he said, addressing
Eve ; ' and/ he added, with a confidential
application of his hand to his mouth, * if
but they as shall be nameless would
but voo her through my eyes, her should
curl up her hair on her weddin' night in
five-pound notes, as her blessed aunt, my
poor missis, did afore her, dear sawL'
CHAPTER VIII.
S soon as the supper was cleared
away, Joan began to set on the
table glasses, pipes, and spirits.
' Uncle's sure to bring two or three back
with un,' she said ; ' and if all's ready
there'll be no need for Ave to hurry back.'
Eve gave a questiomng look.
' Why, us is goin' down 'long to see
what's up,' said Joan. * There's sure to be
doin's somewheres or 'nother. Besides,
you haven't sin none o' the chaps as yet ;
200 ADAM AND EVE.
and as we don't mean to lose 'ee now us
have got 'ee, the sooner that's done the
better.'
' Isn't it rather late ?' asked Eve, smil-
ing at Joan's insinuations.
' Late ! laws no ; 'tis only just gone
eight, and the moon's risiu' as bright as
day. Get alongs, like a dear, and fetch
down your cloak. Mine's here to
hand.'
Eve offered no more opposition. She
had no objection to a stroll, and deter-
mined in her own mind that she would
try and beguile Joan into extending their
ramble as far as the cliff-side.
She came downstairs to find Joan
already standing in the street chatting
to a group of girls who, like herself,
were out seeking for amusement.
^ Here she is 1' said Joan, intimating by
ADAM AND EVE. 201
her tone that the former conversation liad
related to Eve. Whereupon several of
Joan's more hnmediate intimates came
forward and shook the new-comer by the
hand, while others murmured something
polite about ' bein' very glad to make her
acquaintance ;' and together they all set off
in a friendly fashion, exchanging words
wdth everybody they met or passed, and
addressing so many of them as uncle this
or aunt that, that Eve could not refrain
from asking if she was related to any of
them.
' Iss, to all of 'em,' laughed one of the
girls, Ann Lisbeth Johns by name.
* Why, didn't 'ee know^ us was all aunts
and cousins here ? You'd best be careful,
I can tell 'ee, for you'm fallen 'mong
a resr'lar nest o' kindred.'
' I'm very glad to hear it,' said Eve
202 ADAM AND EVE.
politely. ' I hope I may like those I don't
know as well as those I do ;' and she gave
a squeeze to Joan's arm, through which
her own was threaded.
'Ain't her got purty ways ?' said one of
the girls admiringly to another. ' I
wonder what Adam thinks of her ?' and,
turning, she said to Joan, ' Has her seed
Adam yet V
Joan nodded her head.
' Wall, what does he think of her ?'
' I don't think he's had any opportunity
of giving his opinion,' laughed Eve, re-
lieving Joan from the necessity of answer-
ing Avhat she thought must be an embar-
rassing question.
' Awh, bless 'ee,' returned the girl, ^ you
don't want Adam to spake ; 'tis actions is
louder than words with he, and no mis-
take. Where's he to-night, then, Joan ?
ADAM AND EVE. 203
Zekiel told me they wasn't manin' to land
Tore mornin'.'
' Gone up to leave word to Killigarth,
I reckon,' said Joan. ' There don't seem
much goin' on here,' she added, looking
round with a disappointed expression.
* 'Tis a proper dead-and-alive set-out,
surely.'
' Oh no, Joan. Why, I was thinking
what a change, and wondering wherever
all the people had come from.'
' Oh, 'tisn't nothin' now. You should
see it sometimes — the place is like a fair.
There's fiddlin' and dancin', and wrastlin',
and all sorts goin' on ; you can't hear
yourself spake for the noise. Now
there ain't so much as a fight to look
at/
'The boats was in so late,' said Ann
Lisbeth, ' there's scarce bin time to hear of
204 ADAM AND EVE.
it yet awhiles. 'Twill be better in an
hour's time.'
* Supposing we went for a walk till
then/ put in Eve.
' Would 'ee like it V asked Joan, anxious
that Eve should be amused.
' Far better than anything else .'
^ All right, then ; we'll go. Ann Lisbeth,
you'll come too ?'
And joining arms, the three were about
to turn towards the Talland side, when
they were met by the old woman who had
spoken to them in the morning.
^ Hullo, Poll 1 Why, where be you
bound for V said Joan.
' Who be you ?' exclaimed the woman, in
her gruff, harsh voice. ^What, Joan
Hocken, is it V and seizing Joan by the
shoulder, she peered into her face. ^Here,'
she added, apparently satisfied, and letting
ADAM AND EVE. 206
go her hold. ' What's this they'm tellin'
up 'bout Jerrem, as has bin left behind ?
Tain't true that that Adam started with-
out un a purpose, eh V
' I don't know that 'twas a purpose/
said Joan. * But Jerrem knowed the time
o' startin' same as t'others did ; and when the
time was up, and no Jerrem, why, they comed
without un. But 'tain't likely Adam 'd got
more to do with it than others had.'
*They that can swaller such words as
they needn't fear that lies 'ull choke em/
returned Poll, contemptuously. ^ Why,
now, you knaws better than to say if
Adam hadn't bin so willed, either wan
aboard the Lottery ha' durst to lave the
boy behind. But 'twill come home to un
yet ; he'll try on his masterful waj^s too
often. And mind this, Joan Hocken '
But Joan had turned aside.
206 ADAM AND EVE.
' I don't want to hear no more o' your
talk/ she said snappishly. ^ I b'lieve
you've bin drinkin' ; that's what 'tis.'
'Where to, then?' retorted old Poll,
fiercely. ' Who's to bring a poor ole sawl
like me a drap o' liquor, 'ceptin' tis Jerrem?
and he left behind, what promised that this
time I should ha' tay and brandy too, and
was a-bringing it, like he allays does.'
' Oh, well, I dare say Adam '11 find
somethin' for 'ee,' said Joan.
^ Sommut for me !' exclaimed Poll ;
* curses and oaths, that's all I ever gets
from he. Lord ! but I pays un they back
agen,' she added, brightening up at the
recollection of her powers. ' I can sarce
so well as ever he can. Drinkin', is it,
I've bin X and her voice chano-ed into a
whine. ' Wait till you'm up seventy-four,
Joan Hocken, and see then if you hain't
ADAM AND EVE. 207
glad o' a mouthful o' sperrits to keep life
in yer insides ; but want T may 'fore any
but Jerrem 'ud think to trate me ; and he
a left, too !'
^ There, come long, do !' exclaimed the
impetuous Joan. * Now, what '11 'ee have %
I'll stand treat for it, so say the word ;
what's it to be ?'
*Why, now, will 'ee, sure 'nuff ? Awh, but
you'm a dear sawl, Joan Hocken, that you
be ; and you shall have a baw so handsome
as he's lucky, and so I tell 'ee/ And
talking as she went, she turned a little to
the right, leading the way towards a small
public-house, with a hanging- board an-
nouncing it to be the sign of the Three
Pilchards, which was lighted up in certain
anticipation of an increased run of busi-
ness.
* Now, don't 'ee hinder we,' exclaimed
208 ADAM AND EVE.
Poll, in remonstrance to some men
gathered near, one of whom laid familiarly
hold of Ann Lisbeth. ^ Us is a-goin' in
here to have a drap o' drink to-
gether.'
' One word for us and two for herself,'
laughed Joan. ^ There, get along in and
have what you're a mind to, Poll. I'm
goin' to stand treat,' she said, in explana-
tion.
^ Noa, I dawn't like that w^ay o' doin' it
at all,' said Poll, trying to expostulate by
her gestures more than her words. ' Waal,
woan't wan of 'ee come ? You come, my
dear,' she said, catching hold of Eve.
* Iss noAv, do 'ee, 'cos I knawed yer
feyther.'
' No, no,' said Joan, decisively ; ' let Eve
be. We'se goin' for a walk, and 'twill be
too late if we stop. Besides, you ain't in no
ADAM AND E VE. 209
hurry — stop, to be sure, and you'll get
sometliin' more gived to 'ee.'
* Only hark to her,' exclaimed old Poll,
well pleased at the cheering prospect.
'Awh, 'tis a thousand pities I bain't a
ban'som' young sailor chap, I'd see if Joan
Hocken should go begging for a husban' ;
but Lord, nowadays men's such a poor lot,
with no more sperrit in 'em than a Porty-
gee. I'm main glad I had my time afore
any sich was born.'
This last speech set them all laughing,
in the midst of which the girls turned to
cross the bridge, so as to get by the
Warren to the cliff. As they passed by
the houses they received several invitations
to 'step in a bit,' to all of which Joan
answered, ' later on they would, but now
they were goin' for a little walk.'
' There's a goodish lot gone by,' said one
VOL. I. 14
210 ADAM AND EVE.
woman, who was standing at her door ; ' I
don't know whether 'tis wrastUn' or fightin'
they'm up to, sommat or 'nother's goin' on
there ; anyways Kawes Chmo's in it.'
' Oh, my dear hfe ! here, Joan, let's come
on !' exclaimed Ann Lisbeth, who took a
very lively interest in the movements of
Mr. Kawes Climo.
' But if it's a fight,' said Eve, ' hadn't we
best go back f
' Why for, then ? So long as they fights
fair I'd so soon see 'em fight as wrastle,
wouldn't you, Joan ?'
^ Depends 'pon who 'tis,' said Joan, philo-
sophically. ''Tain't no fight. Eve/ she
continued ; ^ and wrastlin's only play, you
know.'
Thus encouraged, Eve proceeded on
towards a crowd which they now caught
sight of, assembled together on a small flat
ADAM AND EVE, 211
space of ground not far off from the build-
ing-yard.
The moon ^vas at its full, and its light
made all around easily discerned. Joan
first ducked her body to try and get a peep
between the taller people's legs, then she
gave a jump to see if she could catch a
glimpse of anything over their heads ; and
both these endeavours proving futile, she
announced it as her opinion tliat if they
didn't try and elbow in they might as well
have stayed at home.
Ann Lisbeth was by no means loth to
use the necessary exertions, and the three
soon found themselves — in considerable
advance of the outer circle — pausing to
take breath before they attempted a further
passage of arms with a formidable-looking
opponent in the shape of a thick sturdy
girl standing in front of them.
14—2
212 ADAM AND EVE.
* Who's t'other one V asked Joan.
' A Looe chap,' returned the gh'l ; * I
ha'n't a heerd what he's called, but he
might so well ha' stopped home, he's a bin
thrawed twice afore, and now all the sense
is knacked out of 'im, and he hes bleedin'
like a bullock.'
' Oh dear !' cried Eve, but the exclama-
tion was quite lost on her two compan-
ions, w^hose fresh- whetted cariosity urged
them to more vigorous efforts ; so that
while they pressed forward Eve found little
difficulty in slipping her arms from under
theirs, and turning her exertions in an
opposite direction, she soon found herself
outside again, and free to follow her own
desires.
She did not wish to go back with-
out Joan, and it was not pleasant to
stand loitering on the outskirts of a crowd,
ADAM AND EVE, 215
SO she determined to walk a little distance
on alons: the clitF.
A knot of men, sitting and standing
ahout a rough seat hollowed in the rock,
determined her upon taking the lower path,
and, without looking in their direction, she
Avalked on, her pace gradually slackening
as she got beyond fear of observation.
How calm and still the water looked !
Eve was just beginning to drink of the
fulness of this new phase of its beauty,
when a voice behind her said :
' Cousin Eve, is that you V
' Oh, Cousin Adam !' and her tone and
face showed that his presence was by no
means unwelcome.
'Why, how is it you're all by yourself?
Where's Joan got to that you're alone ?'
' Oh, she's not very far ofi*. We were
both together till just this minute. There's
214 ADAM AND EVE.
a fight or something goin' on, and she's
just stopped to look at it. Somebody said
one of them was bleeding, and that was
enough for me. I didn't wait to see any
more.'
Adam laughed.
^ Why, you're never such a coward as to
be afraid of a drop of blood V he said.
'Not you!'
' Indeed, but T am. If anybody but
cuts their finger I feel faint.'
' That's nice stuff to make a sailor's wife
out of,' said Adam.
' I'm not going to be a sailor's wife,' re-
turned Eve, promptly.
' Oh, indeed ! how do you know that ?
I s'pose some of your fine London chaps
have stolen a march upon us. Never
mind ; we'll manage to give 'em the go-by.
All's fair in love and war, you know.'
ADAM AND EVE. 215
* I don't iu the least know what you
mean,' said Eve, trying to assume a very
indifferent tone. ' But I've no doubt Joan
will be looking for me by this time, so I'd
best 2:0 back.'
' I wouldn't advise you to,' said Adam,
standing so that without pushing she could
not well pass him. * 'T won't be over for a
good half-hour yet, take my word for it ;
and Joan won't come away till it's ended.
There's plenty of time to walk to the end
twice over before 3^ou'Jl catch sight of her ;
that is, if you've a mind to go.'
' Oh, I want to go very much,' replied
Eve ; ' but there's no need for me to take
you,' she added demurely. ' I don't mind
a bit going by myself
* All right, then ; I'll go back,' said
Adam.
^ Yes. do.'
216 ADAM AND EVE.
But the words did not come out very
readily, for Eve had certainly not expected
to be taken literally. Before she had
time to turn, Adam had burst into a laugh.
^ So that's the way the London dandies
treats the maidens, is it ? Well, they're a
nice lot to choose from, instead of a good,
honest sailor chap, who'd live and die for
ye. Now, you take my advice, Cousin
Eve : send him a mitten ; give him
'^ turmits," as they say hereabouts, and
leave it to me to find somebody else to
stand in his shoes/
* You're very kind, upon my word,' said
Eve, laughing ; ' more like a father than a
cousin. But, thanking you all the same,
Cousin Adam, when I am on the look-out,
and that won't be yet awhile, I think I'd
as soon choose for myself
* All right ; so long as he isn't one of
ADAM AND EVE. 217
your counter-jumpin', tape-measurin' town
fellows, I'll give my consent. But there, I
needn't waste words ; for I'll bet a guinea,
before twelve months is past you won't
own you ever saw a man who wasn't a
sailor. Why, if you'd bin a man, what
would you have bin ? Why, a sailor of
course, aboard the LotteTy, eh V
' And get left behind, like the young
man you wouldn't wait for at Guernsey,'
said Eve.
But the speech was not out of her mouth
before she repented making it, for Adam's
face clouded over.
' I only served him right,' he said.
' He's always up to some fool's game or
'nother, which those, who ought to know
better, look over, because he's hail fellow
with every one he meets. That was all
very well years ago, but it doesn't do now-
218 ADAM AND EVE.
adays ; and 'cos I see it, and try to keep
things up a little, nothing's bad enough to
say of me. 'Tisn't of much use tryin' to
alter things while the old man's alive ; but
if some of them don't learn to spell obeij
before they die, I'm a Dutchman.'
They had by this time reached the pro-
jecting flat, and Eve, wishing to turn the
conversation into a more pleasant channel,
proposed that they should stand for a few
minutes and look around them.
^ Isn't it most lovely?' she said. 'I
didn't think any place in the world could
be so beautiful.'
' Yes ; 'tis a pretty look-out enough
now/ said Adam, ' with the moon shining
on the sea like silver, and the stars
twinklin' out all over the sky ; but, by the
Lord ! it can put on an ugly face some-
times. I've seen the sea dashing up over
ADAM AND EVE. 219
where we're standin' now, and the Avind
drivin' dead on the land, and a surf no
vessel could live in. Ah 1 'tis time to
think o' sayin' your prayers then, for
you're within hail of kingdom come, and
no mistake.'
' How dreadful !' said Eve, with a
shudder, as she conjured up the scene.
' It wouldn't be half as dreadful if the sea
looked as it does now. I seem as if I
shouldn't hardly mind jumping into it a bit.'
* Shouldn't you V said Adam, throwing
his arm round her waist and impelling her
to the brink of the cliff; ' s pose we try it
together V
Eve gave a terrified cry ; and drawing
her back, Adam said, in a soothing tone :
* Why, what a little coward it is, to be
sure ! Did you think I meant to throw you
over V
220 ADAM AND EVE,
' Of course I didn't/ said Eve, recover-
ing herself ; ^ it was only because I was
startled. I shouldn't have minded else.
I should like to look over.'
* Come along, then ; I'll hold you tight
enough ;' and he allowed Eve to bend for-
ward so that she could see the gleaming
surf as it rippled and lapped the rocks
below.
Eve gave a sigh of satisfaction.
^ I feel,' she said, 'as if I could stand
like this for ever.'
' So do I,' said Adam.
' I don't want to go indoors. '
' Neither do I.'
* Nor to speak or say a word.'
^No.' —
' Only to look, and look, and look !'
And her voice died away with the last
word, and she seemed to abandon herself
ADAM AND EVE. 221
to the full enjoyment of the scene before
her. It was one which might well absorb
every thought. The vast unbroken mirror
of waters, over which the moon flung the
great mantle of her light — the fleecy
floating clouds — the tall dark clifls, behind
which lay shadowed the little town. At
another time Eve would have had neither
eyes, nor ears, nor thoughts for anything
but this ; but now, overpowering these sur-
roundinofs came a tremulous emotion from
within ; a something new,which was sweeter
than pleasure and keener than pain ;
which made her long to speak, and yet
dread to break the silence. Another
moment passed ; the spell grew stronger.
Then a warm breath stirred the air
close to her cheek, and, with a sudden
effort, Eve gave a dexterous movement
which freed her from Adam's arm, and
222 ADAM AND EVE.
placed lier at a little distance from his
side.
' It's quite time we went back/ she said,
in an altered voice. ^ Joan must have
been wondering, for ever so long, where
I've got to.'
' The wonder is you ain't at the bottom
of the cliff,' said Adam, surlily. ^ The
next time you think o' being so nimble,
I'd advise you to choose some safer place
than here.'
CHAPTER IX.
YE and Adam walked back in
comparative silence. The fight
was over ; the crowd dispersed ;
and as neither of them displayed any wish
to join the revelry which, on and about
the quay, was now in full-swing, they took
their way home by a different road.
Eve was vexed and angry with herself —
unduly so, she thought — for she could not
help losing Joan, neither could she help
Adam following her ; and as for the rest^
224 ADAM AND EVE.
she did not know what else she could have
done. It was all Adam's fault. She
wished he would leave her to herself.
She could see they should never agree,
and the sooner he found out that she
wasn't sfoino^ to let him take such free
ways with her, the better friends they'd
be.
As for Adam, he looked the picture of
ill-humour, and the expression on bis hand-
some face was anything but a pleasant
one ; and his thoughts, taking, as they did,
the form of a volley of expletives, were
the more bitter and lasting because he
€0uld not give free vent and expression to
them.
The house reached, he pushed open the
door, saying, as he let Eve pass in :
' I told you Joan wouldn't put herself
out. There she is.'
ADAM AND E VE, 225
And there, as he said, dimly discernible
through a cloud of smoke, in the midst
of several men, sat Joan, before her a glass
of a smoking compound, a large bowl of
which occupied the place of honour on the
table.
* Oh ! so you've come at last !' she said,
as Eve entered.
* Yes. Didn't you wonder what had
become of me, Joan ? I was so afraid
you'd be frightened to think where I'd got
to.'
* Not I,' said Joan, recklessly ; * when
I got out they told me where you was
gone, and that Adam had gone after
ee.
' Oh : then why didn't you come, too V
said Eve, in an aggrieved tone ; ^ I hadn't
gone but a very little way.'
' 'Cos two's company and three's trum-
VOL. I. 15
1
226 ADAM AND E VE.
pery, my dear ; ain't it, Adam ? You'd ha'
told me so if she hadn't ; that's the best o'
bein' cousins, you can speak your mind so
free.'
'- There, Avhere be goin' to sot to, my
dear ?' interrupted Uncle Zebedee, feeling,
according to his expression, that there was
a screw loose somewhere ; ^ here, bide a
bits here,' and he pulled her down on his
knee. ' Messmates,' he said^ * this is my
poor brother Andrew's daughter, comed a'
the ways fro' London to live wi' her old
uncle, and keep that raskil Joan in order.
What do 'ee say to drinkin' her good health
and a welcome home to her, eh f
Without replying, the company filled
their glasses, and, one of them giving the
signal by nodding his head towards Eve,
the rest followed his example, took a good
drink, and then, to signify their unqualified
ADAM AND EVE. 227
assent to a remark by their leader, that he
wouldn't mmd ' a foo more o' her sort
bein' shipped to this port,' rapped their
pipe-stems vigorously on the table.
' Now 'tis your turn to make a speech,
said Uncle Zebedee.
* Her wants to wet her whistle first,'
said the w^eather-beaten old fellow nearest
to her, judging Eve's hesitation by the
own cause which alone could influence his
loquacity. ^ Here, Joan, get a glass for
her.'
' No, no, Joan, don't ! I'll '
' Take a drap out o' mine,' he interrupted
gallantly, pushing his jorum of grog in
front of her. ' Doan't fear to take a good
pull. I'm a moderate man mysel' ; I never
exceeds the wan glass.'
* That's true,' replied a sour-faced man
with one eye ; ' only, somehows, you
15—2
228 ADAM AND EVE.
manages not to see the bottom o' he while
there's a drap standin' in the bottle.'
' Then 'tis we won't go home till mornin*
this time,' said Uncle Zebedee heartily, ' for
there's lashin's more than's put 'pon table ;
so at it with a will, my boys, for you may
walk a deck-seam after a tub o' such stuff as
this is. Come, Adam lad,' he added, turning
to his son, ^ make a pitch somewheres -,
can't 'ee find room for un beside o' you,,
Joan ?'
' No, I'd rather have his room than his
company,' said Joan, getting up to fetch
some more glasses ; then, catching Eve's
rather wistful gaze following her, she
selected one with bright-coloured flowers
painted on it, saying, as she set it before her :
' There, that putty one's for you !'
Eve's face brightened at what was evi-
dently intended as a peace-offering. She
ADAM AND EVE. 229
took the glass, expressing her admiration
of it; and, having it in her hand, there was
no further good in protesting against its
beinof filled.
* 'Tis quite a ladies' tipple, this/ said the
visitor who was doing the honours of the
punch-bowl. ' Here, Joan, my dear,
hand over your glass agen. You've only
had a thimbleful.'
Joan did as she was desired, and then
Eve's neio-hbour said :
o
*' Come, we ha'n't a had your speech yet,
you know.'
' Oh ! I can't make a speech,' laughed
Eve. * 1 — I can only say I'm very much
obliged to everybody.'
* Waal, that'll do,' said the old fellow,
approvingly ; 'I'm not wan for many
words myself, I likes a foo here and a foo
there, turn and turn about ; give all a
230 ADAM AND EVE.
chance, and pass the grog round — that's
what I calls behaviour in good company.
Now then, Hsten to what the maid's got to
say/ he said, bringing down his fist on the
table, and thereby setting everything on it
in a jingle, ^Zebedee's niece is a-goin to
spake.'
Thus signalled out for observation, there
was nothing for it but to repeat her former
words, and having got out : ' I feel very
much obliged to everybody,' Eve turned
her blushing face round to her uncle, un-
aware that Adam was behind, and that he,
as well as his father, could see her pretty
air of shy embarrassment.
^ Hear ! hear I Well said !' roared out old
Zebedee, reassuringly, giving her cheek at
the same time a hearty, sounding kiss
while Adam exclaimed, with ill-suppressed
irritation :
ADAM AND E VE. 2 3 1
* Why don't you let lier sit down like the
rest, father ? — there's chairs enough for all,
surely ;' and he pointed to a vacant chair
next to Joan, of which, with a nod to
Uncle Zebedee, Eve took possession
leaving Adam to seat himself at a little
distance off.
Without further remark, Adam plunged
into conversation with the guest who hap-
pened to be his neighbour ; Eve entered
into an explanation with Joan ; and the rest
of the company returned to their grog and
pipes, and the repetition of their oft-told
tales of privateering, press-gang ad ventures,
and escapes from French prisons. Eve's
interest had just been aroused by one of
these narratives, when Joan, noting that
her glass remained untouched, pushed it
significantly towards her. Eve waited for
an instant, and then pushed it back again ;
232 ADAM AND EVE,
but Joan would not be denied, and thej
were still engaged in this pantomime when
Adam, who had apparently been watching
them, said dictatorially :
' Let be, Joan ! Why do you press, if
she don't want to drink it ?'
Thinking he Avas annoyed at her non-
compliance, Eve said :
' Yes ; I'm sure it's very good, but I'm
not used to such things. I don't know
that I ever tasted spirits in my life.'
' Well, taste that, then,' said Adam.
She shook her head.
^ Do,' said Adam, entreatingly. ^ To
oblige me, put your lips to it.'
^ Oh, well, I don't mind doing that,' said
Eve, raising the glass to her mouth.
^ Now,' he said, turning it so as to drink
from the same place, ' I'll finish it for you ;'
but before he could carry out his intention.
ADAAf AND EVE. 233
Joiiii, whose face had suddenly blazed up
with colour, knocked the glass out of his
hand, and before he had time to recover
his surprise, her own and its contents were
shyed to the other end of the room.
* I say, what's the row^ there V exclaimed
Uncle Zebedee. ' Why, Joan, what's come
to 'ee maid, that ^^oure smashin' up the
glasses ? 'tis reyther early for that sort o'
game yet awhiles.'
' Best to take a drap more,' said the dis-
tributer of the punch. ' There's no coor
like a hair o' the dog that bit 'ee.'
^ 'Tisn't nothin' but a bit o' skylarkin',
uncle,' said Joan, ashamed of her outburst
of temper. ' You ain't offended, Eve, are
youf
* Xo, I'm not offended,' said Eve, who
sat aghast and dumbfoundered at such
reckless breakasre.
234 ADAM AND EVE.
' I haven't angered you, Adam, have I ?
said poor Joan, humbly.
' Certainly not,' said Adam^ coldly. ' If
you haven't angered Eve, you haven't
angered me. You've broke two glasses,
that's all'
* Oh, darn the glasses !' said Zebedee,
who saw there was some antasfonism be-
tween the two. ' You'm welcome to break
all the glasses in the house, if it plases 'ee —
only let's have pace and quietness, and
sommut to drink out of
' Suppose somebody gives us a song,'
said Zekiel Johns. ' Here, Joan,' he
added, by way of throwing oil on the
troubled waters, ' come, strike up '^ Polly
Oliver" — us ha'n't a had she for a brave
bit.'
Joan felt in little mood for singfinof, but
after causing this temporary disturbance,.
ADAM AND E VE. 235
some amends for it was due from her ; so
without more delay than was occasioned by
the request that she would not begin until
pipes and glasses were made ready for
undisturbed enjoyment, she commenced.
The tune, though not vmmusical, was
somewhat monotonous — a defect com-
pensated for by the dramatic pathos of
the narrative, and Eve was soon com-
pletely engrossed in the fortunes of the
girl who, in order to follow her lover, had
donned male attire.
*Now Polly being sleepy, her hung down her head,
And asked for a candle to light her to bed,'
sang Joan, when open flew the door, and
on its threshold stood a tall gaunt figure,
whose sudden appearance seemed to strike
consternation into all present. Glasses
were overturned, pipes thrown down. Some
.236 ADAM AND EVE.
of the men sprang to their feet — all was
instant confusion.
' What news, Jonathan V hastily ex-
claimed Adam, who had advanced to meet
the new-comer. ^ Where are ye come
from V
' Liskeard/ answered the man. ' I was
'bliged to give 'em the double by comin'
that ways. Word's passed along that you
be looked for with a fine rin o' goods.'
' H'm, I thought us was safe this time,
anyhow,' exclaimed Zebedee. ' Now, how
did they come to know that, I wonder T
'But they can't tell that we're in yet,
surely V said one of the men.
' Noa ; they'm thinkin' you'll make the
land sometime to-morrow. The cruiser's
to get under weigh 'bout daybreak, and
the sodgers is to come on here and be
ready for 'ee ashore.'
ADAM AND EVE. 23^
' Then there's no time to be lost,' said
Adam, decisively. ' Wc must land as soon
as we can, and after that make ourselves
scarce/
Some more talking ensued, during
which hats were found, lanterns produced
and trimmed, and then the two girls and
Jonathan were left alone.
' They ain't going to sea again, are
they V Eve ventured to ask.
* Not yet awhile,' said Joan ; ' they've
got somethin' to do to the boats first. But
you must go ofii* to your bed. Eve. You
ain't used to sittin' up late.'
' No ; let me keep you company, Joan.
I'd rather do that than go to bed,' pleaded
Eve.
Joan hesitated.
' I think best not this time,' she said.
' I fancy uncle 'ud rather you was to bed
238 ADAM AND EVE.
when he comes back agen ; and Jonathan
'11 be here, you know. You ain't gomg
yet awhiles, I s'pose, Jonathan ?
' Noa, not I. I wants sommat to
ate, I does. Got any mate-pasties or
that put by, Joan Hocken ? 'tis no good
hidin' things frae me.'
^ Here, you haven't spoke to my cousin
yet ?' said Joan, laughing.
'What, sheT said Jonathan, who had
drawn a chair to the fire, over which he
sat cowering. ' What's her called ? I've
a seed she some where' s afore. I don't
like her looks at all, I doesn't.'
^ There, that ain't no way mannerly,'
said Joan, intimating by a look towards
Eve^ and a tap on her forehead, that
Jonathan w^as weak in the head.
' Has her got any money V he asked,
suddenly turning round.
jlDJJ/ AA-JD EVE. :>39
' I don't know,' said Joan. ' You have
though, haven't ye V
' A bag full !' exclaimed Jonathan.
' Go widen guineas I and half-guineas and
crowns I' he added, with an unction that
showed that the very mention of their
names was a positive enjoyment to him.
' No pound-notes for you, Jonathan, eh !'
said Joan.
' No, I b'lieve 'ee,' chuckled Jonathan.
^ They dosn't dare to give me sich.'
' Now you'm goin' to tell me where you
keep 'em all to, this time V said Joan,
trying by her banter to keep him quiet,
until she and Eve had set the room a little
straight.
Jonathan shook his head.
' I shan't tell 'ee nothin', not while her's
here,' he said, jerking his elbow in Eve's
direction. ' Herd go and blab, and be the
240 ADAM AND EVE,
ruin o' us all, her would. Can't 'ee send
her home, Joan V
' Don't take no notice of un,' Joan said
in an undertone. ' He ain't got his wits
about un like me, so he says just what
comes into his head. Ill soon stop his
mouth, though ;' and she went into the
kitchen and lifted down the best part of a
large pie. ^ Now what else is there ?' she
said reflectively, ' for when he sets to, that
won't go far. His head can't stand drink —
it drives un mad,' she added in explanation
to Eve's look of amazement, ' so he makes
it up with vittals ; and if he could ate the
same meal twice over in every house in
the village, he'd be welcome, for the good
service he does us all.'
Eve only waited until Jonathan's meal
was spread before him, and then, yielding
to a further entreaty from Joan, she rather
ADAM AND E J 'E. 241
reluctantly went oft* to bed ; half induced
by Joan's assurance that she intended very
soon to follow.
' I shall only wait till they've had all
they want/ she called out, ^and then I
shall come too, Eve.'
Eve determined that thouo-h she went
o
to bed, she would not go to sleep, a resolu-
tion which she kept for fully ten minutes
after her head was on her pillow, and
which she was not certain she had for
more than a few moments broken when,
some hours later, she started up to find
Joan's place beside her still vacant. J
must have been sleeping, she thought, and
then, as consciousness returned, she be^mn
to feel that, instead of a doze, her sleep had
been one of some duration. She sat up
and listened : not a sound could she hear.
The room was dark, the house quite still. A
VOL. I. IG
242 ADAM AND EVE.
feeling of undefined fright took possession
of her. Surely Joan had not gone out ;
they would never leave her in the house
alone. What was to be done ? She had
no light, and no means of getting one, for
those were the days of tinder-boxes and
brimstone matches, and with even these
appliances, few, save the prudent house-
wife, provided themselves against emer-
gencies.
Growing desperate, Eve slipjDed out of
bed, and listened with sharpened attention.
Not a sound save that which came from
the clocks, whose measured tick, tick,
seemed mocking the nervous thumping of
her heart.
Something must be done — she could not
go back to bed again ; so, groping about,
she found her gown, and then her
cloak, and hastily throwing these on, she
ADAM AND EVE. 243
cautiously crept down the stairs to the
door Avhich opened on the sitting-room.
There was evidently a light, for its
o'limmer came throuo^h the chinks of the
door. Timidly she laid her fingers on the
latch ; it lifted, but she pushed in vain.
The door would not yield ; it was bolted on
the outside. Pausing to recover this
surprise. Eve braced up her trembling
courage, and then she turned and re-
mounted the stairs, her heart no longer
fluttering, and most of her fears ousted
from their place by a sudden determina-
tion to find out the reason of this mystery.
Leading from her bedroom was another
door and a passage from which stairs led
down to the kitchen below. Along by this
way Eve crept. To her amazement the
kitchen, though empty of people, was
nearly filled with furniture, between the
IG— 2
244 ADAM AND EVE.
various articles of which she stepped her
way, and then catching full sight of the
room beyond, she paused. Surely no !
that wasn't the place she had been sitting
in % — bare and stripped of everything.
Why the very walls were gone, and in
their place, arranged one above another,
stood rows of small barrels. The floor
was strewed with ropes and tools, the fire
was out, and candles flared in the wind
which came in at the half-open hatch of
the door.
Eve stood bewildered, not knowing
whether to go forward or back ; but
another instant decided her, for in front
of the hearthstone, close by where, on the
previous night, she had sat, emerging from
below, a head slowly appeared, and another
glance showed her that the face was the
face of Uncle Zebedee. Eve cauofht her
ADAM AND E VE. 245
breath. This then must be smuggUng,
and ^vithout further thought she turned,
fleAv up the stairs, jumped into bed, and
hid her head under the clothes.
With returning cahnness, however, came
the recollection, that if Joan came up, the
-dress and cloak would betray her ; so she got
up and put them back into their place, and
then again lay down to listen and wait —
not long — before the noise assured her the
furniture was being replaced. Then, after
an interval, came a buzz of voices, but not
until a faint glimmer of grey had crept
into the room did Eve hear the bolt
undone, footsteps ascending the stairs, and
Joan coming stealthily in. Involuntarily
Eve shut her eyes, nor though Joan
seemed to have brought over a candle to
look at her, did she open them, deter-
mining that while Joan was engaged in
246 ADAM AND E VE.
undressing she would pretend to be
aroused, and awaken. But tliere was no
opportunity afforded for the carrying out
of this deception, for Joan having satisfied
herself concerning her companion, merely
set down the candle, blew it out, and
threw herself, dressed as she was, on the
bed.
CHAPTEE X.
HE sun was streaming into the
window Avhen Eve awoke with
a sudden confused recollection
of something having happened. She started
to find Joan sitting on the edge of the
bed, rubbing her half-open eyes.
' Why, Joan/ she exclaimed, ^ whatever
time can it be ? And do you know how
you went to sleep last night ? You never
undressed yourself
'No,' said Joan, drowsily, 'I know I
M8 ADAM AND EVE.
didn't. What with one thing and 'nother,
I couldn't get the rids of 'em till ever so
late, and then I was so tired I'd no heart
to take my things off.'
' Look at your nice gown/ said Eve,
vexed that the pretty chintz should present
such a bedraggled appearance.
* Iss, I s'pects 'tis in a proper cram,'
returned Joan ; * but there, I can't help
it. I must put on something else, I
s'pose.'
' Oh, I'll soon iron it out for you,' said
Eve ; ' so let's make haste and get our
breakfast over. I s'pose uncle and Cousin
Adam have gone ?'
Joan by a nod of her head intimated
that they had.
* What, to Guernsey again V asked
Eve.
' To Guernsey ! no,' said Joan : ' not
ADAM AND EVE, 249
near so far. They'll be home again to-
morrow, or maybe next day.'
' But what made them go so sudden ?'
' Well,' said Joan, ' I don't know that
you'd be much the wiser if I was to tell
"^ee, Eve ; still, I don't see how you're to
bide here without some word bein said.
Uncle was for trustin' 'ee altogether, only
Adam wouldn't have it. He said 'twas
enough for you that they was gone out
pilotin'. Now you know, Eve, I'm
measurin' you by my own bushel, and
I know such talk wouldn't take me in,
more partickler as I've got to ask 'ee to
tell anybody that comes that you've never
cast eyes on 'em.'
*Adam must think I'm silly,' said
Eve, indignantly.
' I don't know what he thinks,' replied
Joan. ' I only know I ain't goin' to follow
250 ADAM AND EVE.
out his biddin' without seein the reason
for it, no more than anybody else's ; besides,
there's nothin' that I see to hide from 'ee^
nor to be ashamed to tell 'ee of What
uncle brings he buys and pays honest
money for, and if there's a risk in bringin
it, why he takes that risk ; and if that
isn't havin a right to keep it if he can,
why I don't know nothin' about it, that's
all'
' But what is it that he does bring X
said Eve.
^ Why, sperrits to be sure. 'Tis like this :
they says, ^' Here, you must pay dooty."
" No," uncle says, '^ I won't — I'll bring it
dooty free." Well, he does so, and if he
can land it safe, well and good ; 'tis his to
sell or to drink, or to do what he like&
with. But if the excise gets scent of it,
down they come and tries to seize it all^
ADAM AND E VE. 251
and if the}^ do seize it, 'tis gone, and so's
the lives of any they catches with it. So
no blame to 'em, if they'm took hard, when
each man knows the bit o' hemp's ben
growed to make the rope his neck's to
swing by.'
' Oh, Joan !' exclaimed Eve, ' not hung I
you don't mean that they'd hang them !'
* Iss, but they would. They hanged ole
Israel J ago. ^Twas long afore any o' our
times, but uncle minds it. His feyther — why
your grandfeyther, then — was one o' they
who went up to London with Israel's wife
to try if they couldn't get un off; but
'twasn't o' no good.'
' What did his poor wife do ?' said Eve,
sympathetically. ' Wasn't she in a dread-
ful way X
' Well, I don't know,' laughed Joan ;
* they do say her stayed waitin outside
252 ADAM AND EVE.
the gaol-doors all night, and in the mornin',
'stead o' biddin' un a last farewell, as they
all thought her'd corned to do^ her pushes
into his hand a red cotton handkercher.
^' There," her says, '^ take thickee and gie
me thuckee, for sure thee doesn't want a
silk neckercher to be hanged in." '
' What a dreadful woman, Joan !'
' No, her wasn't — her didn't leave no
stone unturned to get un off ; but, as her
said, her knew then 'twas no more good ; so
what call was there to waste more than
had bin 'pon un V
' Well,' said Eve gravely, ^ I'd rather
live on dry bread and water, Joan, than
have any one get their living in such a way
as that. Why, I should never know a
minute's peace. Each time they went
a,way I should never expect to see them
again.'
ADAiV AND E VE. 25a
* So you think,' laughed Joan, ' but
you'll very soon get over that, and make
as sure of their bein' back as if they was
comin' by the mail-coach. Oh, it doesn't
do to be fainty-hearted about anything !
What is to be will be, I say, so there's no
need to run out to meet trouble on the
road. But, remember,' she added, chang-
ing her voice to a graver toiiO, ^ you've a
part to act to-day. Eve ; and if the sodgers
comes to search, you must carry on with
them, as if there wasn't such a things as a.
keg to be found for twenty miles around.'
' But is there any hidden near here ?'
asked Eve, determined to test how far
Joan's confidence would extend.
' Come 'long down wdth me,' said Joan,
' and I'll show 'ee. Now, you see these
walls,' she continued, after they had
reached the sitting-room, which was re-
254 ADAM AND E VE.
arranged in the same order in which Eve
had first seen it. ' Well, the sides here
and there are hollow, and will open behind
this,' and she pointed to a recess in which
stood a chest. ' There's a hidin'-place,
and there's another underneath the floor.
They're all full o' liquor now, but when
they'm empty again you shall see 'em. I'll
get uncle to show 'em to 'ee, for it takes
more than my strength to get 'em open.'
Eve smiled. Turning, she took hold of
Joan's hand.
' No need for that,' she said. ' I've seen
them already.'
' You have !' exclaimed Joan. ^ Why,
when ?'
' Last night.' And Eve related her ad-
ventures, and how in her fright she had
had her curiosity satisfied.
* Well, I never did !' said Joan, in amaze-
ADAM AND E VE. 255
menfc ; ' only to think now, if I hadn't told
'ee, what a sly one you'd ha' took me for !'
' No, I don't know that— but I am glad
you trusted me, Joan. I don't think any-
body need ever fear to do that.'
' So I knew when I told 'ee,' said Joan,
promptly ; ^ and though I listened to what
Adam said, I made up my mind all the
time to folio' out my own mind. Women
knows one another a deal better than the
men ever finds 'em out, and right they
should to.'
* T shan't forget Mr. Adam's opinion of
me for one while,' said Eve, huffily. ' I
am sure I ought to be very much obliged
to him for thinking so ill of his own
cousin.'
' I don't know that I ever saw un think
quite so much of any one before,' answered
Joan, looking wistfully at her. '■ Oh !'
256 ADAM AND E VE.
she exclaimed passionately, biting her
lips, and drawing in her breath, ' I'd
forgive anybody who'd make him mad in
love, so that he'd no hold over hisself, but
just showed what a fool he was^ whether
one or twenty stood by.'
' Hasn't he ever cared for anybody^
then f asked Eve.
* Not he,' said Joan ; ' there ain't ne'er a
one in Polperro good 'nuf for un. There's
they you'll hear tell up, that Adam said
this and told 'em the other ; but what if he
did ? He hadn't got no manein' in it, and
so they oft to know by this time.'
' Then I don't think he has any right to
act so/ said Eve, pleased to make a hole of
the slightest flaw in Adam's conduct. ' I
haven't much opinion of those who try to
mislead others. Everybody ought to say
what they mean, and mean what they say.*
ADAM AND EVE. 257
The earnestness with which this sentiment
was deHvered seemed to amuse Joan, and,
beginning to laugh, she said :
' I shall set you to talk to Jerrem when
he comes back. 'Tis he's the raskil with
all the maidens 'bout liere ; and that minds
me. Eve, 'bout that letter you said you'd
write. Will 'ee do it some time to-
dayl'
' Yes, of course I will, if you'll tell me
what uncle wants to say.'
' Well, uncle thinks 'tis best it came
from me like, warnin' un not to take no
notice, 'cos nothin' more than a trick was
meant, and sayin' he's not to stop loiterin
there, but to come across back home to
wance in anythin' he can get passage in.
And,' she added, after a minute's reflection,
' to soften it down a bit, you might say
that we're all well — and that you'm here,
VOL. I. 17
258 ADAM AND EVE,
and have wrote the letter. That'll do, won't
itr
' Capitally/ said Eve ; ^ the best way-
will be for me to write out what you've
said as I think, and then when it's done,
read it out loud to you/
This plan meeting with Joan's approval,
Eve sat down, and as soon as the necessary
materials were supplied, commenced the
epistle, which she worded as though it
came from Joan. This pleased Joan
mightily, and she stood leaning over Eve,
watching her fold up the letter, and direct
it to Jeremiah Christmas, at Louis
Reinolds's, Guernsey.
'Now you shall seal it yourself,' said
Eve, when all else was completed.
' Well then, I must look for my thimble,'
said Joan, delighted that some portion of
the performance was to be really her ow^n,
* 'cos I haven't got no seal.'
ADAM AND EVE. 259
' Oh, but I have; said Eve ; ' I'll run
and fetch it.'
The seal was one which had hung on a
watch that Eeuben May had taken in
exchange. It was of little value, but the
old French motto, Amour avec loiatdtey had
struck Reuben, and he had begged Eve to
accept it.
The circumstance of its being Avanted
brought the donor to Eve's mind, and as
she turned over her small hoard of treasures,
seeking it, her conscience smote her for her
forofetfulness of her friend. Since the
morning after her arrival she could not
remember having cast a single thought in
his direction. These were not the days of
universal letter-writing, so that though Eve
had promised to send Keuben a letter, and
tell him how she found herself among her
new relations, she did not intend, neither
17—2
260 ABAM AND E VE.
did he expect her, to write this until she
was thoroughly settled down. Still, she
had never thought fresh faces could have
so completely driven him from her mind,
and she was trying to find some excuse
for her apparent heartlessness, when there
came a sudden clatter of horses' hoofs.
' Eve, they'm here ! the sodgers ! Come
down !' called out Joan, hurriedly.
Eve ran down with a scared face.
^ Oh, Joan ! What am I to say ?'
' Why, nothin' ; seem as indifferent as
you can. I didn't talk about it a purpose,
'cos you shouldn't go workin yourself up.
Just seem to take it all off-hand, and as if
you thought it like their impidence to
come anigh the place ;' and the sound
drawing close to, she caught up the towel
she had a little time before laid down, and
went on with her employment of washing
ADAM AND EVE. 261
the breaktast-thiiigs. Another minute, and
the rap of something heavy sounded against
tlie door.
' Come in !' cried Joan.
Kap, rap, rap ! sounded more vigorously.
' Come in!' repeated Joan, in a louder tone.
' Shan't you open the door V whispered
Eve.
Joan was going to shake her head, but
just at this moment the hatch was flung
open, and a man's voice said :
' I don't know whether you want me to
come mto your house horse and all, young
woman ? taking it for granted by the voice
that the speaker was a woman, and a young
woman.
* I don't want neither you nor your
hoss,' returned Joan ; ' so if you'm waitin'
for a welcome from me, you'm both like to
take root in the place where you be.'
262 ADAM AND EVE.
' Ah, I see; you know what we're after.'
'Glad to hear I'm so sharp/ retorted
Joan. '■ I s pose they've told 'ee 'twas a
complaint that's catchin', that you'm all
come peltin' down here alongs.'
* We've come to catch somethinof that
it's no use your hiding, Mrs. Pert/ laughed
the man, a good-looking sergeant ; ' and
we've a warrant to search the house in the
King's name.'
^'Tis very much to his Majesty's credit
to be so curious about such humble folks,'
said Joan, with a look of saucy defiance.
'■ P'rhaps you'll ask un' to send word next
time, then we'll be a little better prepared
for 'ee.'
' Oh !' laughed the man, 'we take things
as we find them ; so pray, ladies, don't dis-
turb yourselves on our account.'
* Oh! are they going upstairs?' exclaimed
ADAM AND EVE. 263
Eve, starting up, as the party having entered
and divided, one of them opened the door
which led to her room. * My ! and I've
left my workbox open, and the things all
about.'
* Well, go up with 'em,' said Joan. ' I
don't know what they'm here for, but I
s'pose 'tain't to demand our scissors and
thimbles.'
' I should be very sorry to demand any-
thing but a kiss from two such pretty
lassies,' said the sergeant, who had re-
mained in the room, bestowing a look of
most undisguised admiration on Eve.
' If you'll come upstairs with me,' he
added, addressing her, * you'll see that
nothing of yours shall be touched.'
At a glance from Joan, Eve rose up to
go ; and then remembering that the letter
lay on the table, she reached back to take
264 ADAM AND EVE.
it up, but the soldier's quick eye had antici-
pated her.
'Allow me,' he said, catching it from
under her hand, and reading the direction :
* '^Jeremiah Christmas — Louis Keinold's
— Guernsey." Oh ! so Jeremiah's at
Guernsey is he \ I've got a friend going
there, and he'll be proud to take this for
you ;' and he made as if about to put the
letter into his pocket.
Eve held out her hand.
'Give it back to me,' she said ; ' there's
things in it,' she added shyly, ' I shouldn't
care for anybody else to see.'
' All the more reason why I should take
care of it,' replied the young man ; only too
well pleased to detain anything which
might afford an opportunity of feeding the
admiration the sight of Eve had filled him
with.
ADAJJ AND EVE. 265-
*No, but it isn't anything to do with
anybody here.'
' Why, is it a love-letter then ? and is
Jeremiah your sweetheart ?'
'Don't answer him, Eve,' exclaimed
Joan, wdth pretended Indignation. * Let it
go — I would ; 'twon't take 'ee much trouble
to write another. Far rather that, than
spend words on such as think they'm doin
a fine mornin's work, to try and cower
two lorn maidens whilst their men's all out
o' the way.'
' Oh no, they're not,' said the sergeant^
with a derisive smile. * We shall come upon
the men presently, hiding under the straw,,
or in the cupboards, or up the chimney,
stored away with the kegs.'
' Why, now, if somebody musn't ha' split
'pon 'em,' said Joan, with a gesture of
mock fear.
266 ADAM AND EVE.
' Here ! Dick, Bill, Tom !' she cried, * do
'ee come 'long down ; the sodgers is sent
to sweep the chimleys, my dears.'
' I don't think you can be one of this
place,' said the soldier, seeming to take no
heed of Joan's banter. ^ You haven't got such
a saucy tongue as most of the young women
about here. Where might you come from?'
* From London,' answered Eve, hoping
to propitiate her interlocutor. ' I have
only been here a week.'
' And how many sweethearts have you
got in that time ?'
* Not any — there hasn't been any to
have. Besides, if there had, I ' and
hesitating, she cast a wistful glance at the
letter, exclaiming, ' Oh, do give it to me !'
with such an irresistible look of entreaty,
that the sergeant held the letter towards
lier, saying :
ADAM AND EVE. 2G7
' I don't know that I've any right to
keep it, though before I give it up I must
know the name of its pretty owner. What
are you called V
* My name is Eve.'
* Eve,' he repeated dubiously.
* Lss, and my name's Timersome,' called
out Joan. ' Come, I knaw'd you was
dyin' to knaw what I be called, only
you'm too sheep-faced to ax the question.'
* I'll tell you what it is — ' he began, but at
that moment the soldier from upstairs came
down, and, without waiting to conclude
his speech, he turned hastily round, saying
to Eve : ' Now I am going upstairs, so will
you come and look after this work-box V
Joan made a movement to let them
pass, and Eve, taking the hint, followed
the sergeant upstairs. The plan of search
seemed to be arranofed so that while a cer-
2G8 ADAM AND EVE.
tain number of the party were told off for
the actual hunting about, the remainder
were left to guard the rooms and the
various exits and entrances of the house.
In order that each one should stand his
chance of discovery and be free from all
suspicion of bribery and connivance, the
men constantly changed posts, and so it
happened that all had to run the gauntlet
of Miss Joan's cutting remarks and sharp.
speeches ; but they had a soldierly weak-
ness for a saucy tongue with a pretty face,,
and took all she had so comj)laisantly,
that a strict disciplinarian might have ac-
cused them of a decided lack of zeal in the
performance of their duty. For want of
knowing what else they could do, they
stamped on the boards of the floors,,
opened the cupboards, pushed about the
chairs and tables, made dives in and under
ADAM AND EVE. L>69
the beds, and then, wondering if they were
not there, where on earth they could be,
began and did the very same thing over
and over again.
In their hearts they wished the runners
rather than themselves were set after this
sort of game. It was not the business
they cared to be up to, and would only
turn all the people against them ; which
would not be so pleasant, seeing that not
a landlord in Fowey, Looe, or Liskeard
ever kept a score against a soldier.
However, it would not do to be too
lenient in their bearing ; so, to keep up
appearances, each fresh comer knocked
about the things, flung ojDen the doors, and
made grand discoveries of heaps of straw
which turned out to be stored apples, and
mysterious barrels which proved only salted
pilchards.
270 ADAM AND EVE.
The same thing, with shght variations,
was gone through in each house they
entered ; until about one o'clock the sergeant
decided it was of no use remaining longer.
The goods were not to be found, the men
had evidently not landed, and they
had best get back to Fowey, and
leave the revenue cruiser the glory of a
capture.
Joan, with her elbows leaned on the
door-hatch, stood watching the little party
take their departure.
^Wish 'ee well, if you'm goinV she called
out saucily.
' Oh, don't break your heart about us,
young woman,' replied one of the men.
' We shall be back ao^ain soon ; 'twon't be
long before you have the pleasure of our
company again, so keep yer spirits up.'
^ Thank 'ee,' said Joan ; ^ what sperrits us
ADAM AND EVE. 271
has got, us generally try's to keep, though
'tis a hard matter agen such a knowin' set
as you sodgers be.'
' Ah, you're a saucy wench,' laughed the
sergeant, who had by this time ridden up.
' I won't have nothing to say to you, but I
must say good-bye to my pretty friend
Eve. Where has she hidden herself to, eh V
and stooping, he tried to catch sight of her ;
but Eve only drew herself farther back, and
the horse beginning to grow fidgctty, the
young fellow had to ride away without
having accomplished his wish.
* There, let's run out and have a last look
at 'em,' cried Joan. * Good riddance to
bad rummage !' she called out.
At the sound of her voice the soldier
turned and flung back an answer ; but he
had gone too far, the words could not
reach them.
272 ADAM AND EVE.
'I can't tell what 'tis he's say in' of/ laughed
Joan, her spirits rising as the sound of the
retreating hoofs grew fainter. ' 'Twas some-
thin' 'bout you I reckon, Eve,' she added,
as they turned back into the house ; ^ and
hadn't he got somethin held up in his
hand a-dangling of? Whatever could it
be, I wonder V
CHAPTER XI.
OE, some time after the soldiers
had taken their departure all was
bustle and excitement. Neighbours
ran in and out of each other's houses, telling
and hearing of narrow escapes and many
adventures. Friends laughed and joked
over their thoughtlessness or their discre-
tion ; here a stray keg had been dropped
into the pig's bucket, there one caught up
and i^opped under the baby in the cradle.
Every one grew bolder, their usual reckless-
VOL. I. 18
274 ADAM AND EVE.
ness gaining strength as they saw how little
they had to fear from such a set of Johnnie
Raws as the unlucky searchers were uni-
versally voted.
* Well, now 'tis most time to think o'
dinner,' exclaimed Joan, sitting down
almost exhausted with chattering and
laughing.
^ Oh, don't let's bother about getting
dinner for us two,' said Eve.
'All right,' replied Joan; 'we'll just
take what's to hand, and then we'll put on
our things and go up alongs. I want to
see how Ann Lisbeth's folks have got on ;
they'd got more stowed away than we
have.'
' But don't they never find any of it V
asked Eve.
' Not in the houses, they never have. Back
'longs in the summer there was a pretty
ADAM AND EVE. 275
good iind in the standiii' corn near Land-
aviddy, but though they seized the kegs
they couldn't tell who'd put 'em there/
Eve gave a shake of her head. ' I can't
bring my mind to think it's exactly right/
she said. ' I wish uncle had nothino*
to do with it. Couldn't he give it up if he
liked r
' He could, so far as money goes/ an-
swered Joan ; 'but Lord! he never will,
and I don't see neither why he should.
Everybody must get their livin' one way or
'nother ; and as he often says, 'tis child's
play now compared to the war-time. Then
you never did know when you'd see 'em
again. What with bein' pressed into the
king's ships, and taken off to French
prisons, 'twas a terrible time of it.'
' Has uncle ever been in prison ?' asked
Eve.
18—2
276 ADAM AND E VE.
' I should think he had, and never
expected to get out agen neither ; but
they managed it, and he and three others
broke out one night and got clear off. And
'twould make your blood run cold to hear
of all they went through — how they'd to
lie all day long hid away in the ditches,
half dead with hunger and cold ; then as
soon as night came they'd push on, though
where to^ they couldn't tell, only 'twas to-
wards the sea.
' But how ever did they live through V
said Eve. ' Had they got any money with
them r
' Not a penny piece ; and if they had,
'twouldn't ha' been o' any use, for they
couldn't spake the tongue, and durstn't ha'
gone anighst a shop, 'cos o' bein' knawed
as prisoners o' war wherever they shawed
their faces.'
ADAM AND EVE. 277
* How did they manage, then V
' Well, UDcle says to this day 'tis more
than he can tell ; but manage they did, and
to reach the watter-side too ; and then they
watched and watched, and at last a boat
comes in sight, with a young French chap
rowin' his sweetheart, and making for the
shore. Well, they lands ; and then, by what
uncle could make out, the maid persuaded
the young man to see her a bit on her
way home. So he looks round, and seeing
the coast clear and nobody nigh, he hauls
up the boat, stows away the oars, and off
they goes ; and then 'twas oh, be joyful !
and no mistake, with th' other poor
sawls. They didn't take long afore they
was out o' their hiding-place, afloat, and
clean out o' sight o' land and everybody
'pon it ; and there they was tossin' about for
I can't tell 'ee how long, and had given up
278 ADAM AND E VE.
all for lost, and made sure to the bottom of
the say they must all go, when all to wance
a vessel hove in sight, and after a bit picked
'em up ; and somehow the capen — though
'twas a French privateer — was got over to
land 'em at Jersey, and from there they got
on to Plymouth, and so comed back safe
and sound after all.'
^ Oh !' exclaimed Eve, ' after one escape
like that, I'd never have gone to sea again
— never !'
' Lor' bless 'ee, iss, you would,' said
Joan, decidedly. ' Why, only see what a
muddlin life 'tis for a man to be stoppin'
ashore week in and week out. He grows
up a reg'lar cake, like that Sammy Tucker
o' ourn, one side half baked and t'other for-
got to be turned. Here, I say, Eve,' she
exclaimed, with sudden emphasis, ' us'll have
to go up and see mother agen, or else the
ADAM AND EVE. 279
place won't hold her. I wonder her hasn't
bin down before now ; her's generally putty
nhnble when any thin' o' this sort's goin' on.'
' She doesn't approve of it at all, does
she V said Eve.
* So she says/ returned Joan.
' But why should you think ^he says what
she doesn't mean, Joan ?'
' Because she don't act consistent — no
more don't none of 'em up there. Mother's
very high and mighty in her talk 'gainst
smuggled goods and free-tradin', but she'd
be in a nice quondary if she didn't get her
tea cheap, and her sperrits for next to
nothin' ; and after arguin' with me for the
whole afternoon 'pon the sin and wicked-
ness o' such ways, her'll say, '' Mind, Joan,
the next lot o' chaney uncle gets I wants a
match to my plates, an' you can set a bowl
or so aside for me to look at." '
280 ADAM AND EVE.
' What, does uncle bring china too?' said
Eve.
' Not exactly bring it/ said Joan, ' but he
often gets it out o' the homeward-bound
Injiamen and ships comin up Channel.
They'm glad enough to get rids of it before
the Custom-house gentry catches sight of
it. There was some talk of their Qfettinof
somethin' this time. I wish they may,
then we should come in for pickin's.'
Eve smiled.
^ Why, what should I do with china ?' she
said.
^ Oh, but 'tisn't only chaney. There's
chintz, and silk, and crape shawls, and lots
of beautiful things. We'd find 'ee some-
thin' you'd know what to do with : 'sides,
you ain't always goin' to wear black, you
know ; and some o' the chintzes is sweet and
pretty, sure 'nuf '
ADAM AND EVE. 281
' 1 shan't leave off my black for many a
long day to come, if ever,' said Eve, gravely.
* Why,' she added, smiling, ' I shouldn't
know myself for the same in such finery as
you wear, Joan.'
* Oh. wait a bit,' said Joan, significantly.
' Time 'nil tell. We shall see what we
shall see.'
* No,' returned Eve, resolutely ; ' you'll
never see any difference in me. I ain't one
to change. What you see me to-day you.'ll
find me to-morrow.'
The necessity for going into the kitchen
to seek what remained for this substitute
for dinner created a diversion in the con-
versation. Some minutes elapsed, and
then Joan reappeared, laden with the rem-
nants of a squab-pie, some potted conger,
and a couple of good-sized apple-
pasties.
282 ADAM AND EVE.
* There, this '11 do/ she said, setting the
dishes down on the table which Eve had
made ready. ' I dcn't want much, do
you V
* No ; T could have gone till tea-time,'
said Eve.
' Oh, I think us 11 have our tea out
some place, 'twill make a change ; and
there's lots has asked me to bring 'ee.'
This decided, they sat down to their
meal, laughing and chatting with that
unflagging loquacity which is natural to
young girls with light hearts and un-
clouded spirits. The events of the morn-
ing were still naturally uppermost in their
minds, and Joan commenced rallying Eve
on the evident impression she had made
on the young sergeant.
* I never thought he'd ha' given 'ee the
letter agen,' she said. ^ Oh my ! I did
ADAM AND EVE. 283
have a turn when I seed it in his
hand;
* So had I !' said Eve. ' I made certain
he was going to put it in his pocket.'
' So he was, till you give him that inni-
cent look;' and Joan tried, by casting
down her eyes and raising them again, to
give a comical imitation. ' Lord,' she
laughed, ' I wish to goodness I could do
it ! Wouldn't I gammon 'em all !'
' But I didn't mean nothing particular/
protested Eve. ' I only looked up quite
natural.'
' Natural or no, it melted his heart, or
w^hatever sodgers has got in the room of
it.'
' I think you're all too hard on the poor
soldiers,' said Eve. ' If they do come
searching, 'tisn't on their own account ; 'tis
only because it's their duty.'
284 ADAM AND EVE.
* Oh, well then, let 'em take then- duty
some place else, laughed Joan ; ' for in
Polperro 'tis sperrits dooty free, and men.
free o' dooty.'
* I think the men certainly make free
enough/ said Eve.
' Why, how V returned Joan. ' You
haven't hardly seen any of 'em yet,
'ceptin'/ she added, after a pause, ' 'tis
Adam. Was it he you was meanin', Eve V
Eve blushed.
' Oh, I don't know that I meant him in
particular, though I do think he makes
much more free than he need to.'
' In what way ? Do 'ee mean by
offerin' to kiss 'ee V
' Well, yes.'
* But you let un when you two was out
together last night ?' said Joan, half ques-
tioningly.
A£>AM AND EVE. 285
* No, indeed I didn't/ replied Eve, de-
cidedly.
' What, didn't he try to ?' continued
Joan.
' Whatever he may have tried he didn't
get,' said Eve, the colour heightening on
her face.
' Well, I never did !' exclaimed Joan. ' I
wouldn't ha' believed any maid alive could
ha' baffled Adam !'
' Why not '?' and Eve assumed an expres-
sion of great surprise. ^ Can't you refuse
him what you don't want to give him ?'
* Oh !' said Joan, with lauo:hinof bitter-
ness, ' I'm his cousin, my dear. He don't
ask no thin' o' me — what he wants he
takes.'
* I'm his cousin too,' said Eve, setting
her mouth firmly, ' but he'll never do that
with me.'
286 ADAM AND EVE.
' Awli, don't you make too sure o' that/
said Joan. ' Others ha' thought the same
afore noAV, but Adam's proved one too many
for 'em.'
'- You speak as if everybody must give
way to Adam,' exclaimed Eve. ^ Why,
Joan, quite as good men as Adam have
been forced into faUing in love, and with
no hope of having it returned neither.'
' Iss, but had they got his ways f said
Joan, doubtfully. ^ If so, I've never met
none of 'em.'
^ Nonsense,' said Eve, contemptuously.
^ Why, you told me yourself that most of
the girls cared for Jerrem more than they
did for Adam, and by your manner I
thought so did you.'
' Well, I b'lieve I do sometimes, only
that — but there !' she cried, breaking off
impatiently, * tis o' no use talkin' nor
ADAM AND EVE. L'87
tryin' to show the wliy nor wherefores, but
unless I'm very much mistook, 'fore you're
many months older you'll find it out for
yourself.'
Eve ofave a confident shake of her head.
' If your head don't ache, Joan, till you see
me running to Mr. Adam's beck and call,
you'll be pretty free from pain, I can tell
you. I'm not at all one to be taken by a
man's courting ; and if I had been, you and
me would never have met, for up to the
last minute of my coming away somebody
was begging and praying, and all but going
on their knees to me to keep me in London.'
' And you wouldn't stay V said Joan,
immediately interested in the confidence.
Eve shook her head.
' Didn't 'ee care for un then ? Was that
the reason of it ?'
' Oh, I cared for him, and I care for him
liSS ADAM AND EVE.
now ; and don't think, for goodness and
kindness to me, I shall ever meet his fellow
anywhere. But somehow I couldn't love
him, and the more he strove, the more shut
against him I seemed to get.'
' H'm !' said Joan, with surprised per-
plexity ; ' still I don't see, 'cos you couldn't
like he, that that's to hinder 'ee from caring
for Adam. Wan thing is certain, though,'
she added, 'there's no fear if you shuts your-
self against he, of his striving over much.
The boot's on the other leg with Adam.'
Eve laughed. ' There's no need of our
wasting words on talking about what's
so little like to happen ; and if we're going
out, I think 'tis time to go. So I'll run up
■and put on my things ; shall I V
' Yes, do,' said Joan ; adding, as
Eve was turning from the table : ^ Was
the wan who wanted 'ee to stop in
ADAM AND EVE. 289
London, he vou was tellincr me about be-
fore — Reuben May — eh, Eve ?'
^ Oh, you mustn't ask no more questions/
said Eve ; * I'm not going to give any
names.'
' Come, you might so well,' said Joan,
coaxingly. ' I shouldn't tell nobody, and
I always have a sort o' feelin' for they that
places their love at the wrong door.'
' To be left till called for,' laughed Eve,
saucily.
* Oh, I can see that you're a hard-
hearted one,' said Joan, as she pushed
back her chair and rose from her seat. ^ I
only wish,' she sighed, ' that I could be the
same. I b'lieve things w^ould ha' gone ever
so much smoother than they have.'
'Well, I haven't asked any questions,'
said Eve, ' and I don't mean to, either. I
shall wait till Jerrem comes home, and I
VOL. I. 19
290 ADAM AND EVE.
see you and him and Adam together ; then,
I suppose, it Avon't take long to tell who is
Mr. Eight;
* T don't know that/ laughed Joan. ' Wan
thing is certain, 'twill ^vXi^ soon be
known who is Mr. Wrong — there'll be no
mistakin' that. But that minds me 'bout
the letter ; don't let's forget to take un
with us, and on our way I'll give it to
Watty Cox, to take with'n to Looe to-
morrow. We didn't put the seal to it, did
we?'
' No. I'd just gone up for it ;' and Eve
felt in her pocket, and then began looking
among the things on the table.
' What be looking for ?' asked Joan ;
' there's the wax and the candle.'
' I'm looking for the seal,' said Eve. ' I
know I brought it down with me.'
' Isn't it in your pocket % You didn't
AjDAM and eve. 291
sliow it to me. I never saw you with
it.'
' I'd just got it ill my hand when you
called upstairs,' said Eve ; '■ and I remem-
ber I didn't wait even to put back the till
of the box. I jumped up off my knees and
ran down, and I'd got it in my hand
then.'
'Well, p'rhaps you took it up agen.
Piun up and see.'
Eve ran up, but in a few minutes she
returned with the little box in her hand.
^ I've turned everything upside down,
and taken the things out one by one/ she
said, beginning to repeat the fruitless
operation, ' but there's no sign of the seal.
Besides, I feel certain, now, that I laid it
down 'pon the table.'
* Lord !' exclaimed Joan, giving vent to
a fear that had crossed both their minds,
19—2
292 ADAM AND EVE.
' that impident rascal of a sodger has never
taken it, to be sure ? But don't 'ee know, I
told 'ee I saw un danglin' a somethin' in
his hand.'
' Oh, Joan r
' My dear, depend on it that's where 'tis
gone — so you may make your mind easy,
then. For goodness gracious' sake, don't 'ee
tell Adam ; he'd vow we'd bin up to some
games with un, and the very sight of a
sodscer's coat drives un as mad as a bull.'
'Oh, bother, Adam !' said Eve, in a vexed
tone ; ' 'tis losing the seal I care for. I
wouldn't have parted with it for anything.'
' Why, was it a keepsake from your poor
mother T
' No, not from her, but from a friend. I
valued it very much.'
' Did he give it to 'ee. Eve V
' I don't know who you mean by he,' said
ADAM AND E VE, 293
Eve, refusing to accept Joan's evident
meaninof • ' but there's no secret as to the
giver. 'Twas given me by the only friend'
— and she laid unnecessary stress on the
word — ^ I had in London.'
* Eeuben May/ put in Joan, filling up
the slight pause which Eve had made.
* Yes, Keuben May. 'Twas he gave it
to me.'
' Was it his first gift X asked Joan.
' His first and his last,' said Eve, smiling.
'You forget that people there haven't got
money to be so free with as they have here,
Joan. Reuben was like mother and me,
had to work for every penny he spent.'
' What's his trade, then 1'
* A watch and clock maker,' said Eve,
with becoming pride ; ^ and very clever he
is at it too. Mother always said if E-euben
couldn't make anything go, 'twas no use
294 ADAM AND EVE.
anybody else trying. But there, he's the
same with everything,' added Eve, distance
holding a magnifying-glass over Keuben's
oft-despised superiority. * His reading's
like listening to a sermon, and his writing's
beautiful and like print, 'tis so easy to read ;
and as for kno wince about thino^s, I don't
believe you could ask him a single question
but he'd find an answer for it.'
^ And yet with all that you couldn't
bring your mind to care for un. No, now ' —
and Joan held up her hands to drive away
all denial — ^ 'tis o' no manner o' use your
sayin ^^No," for I'm as certain that 'tis
Heuben May you was speakin' of as if you
was both standin' before me too^ether.'
^ Oh, well, if that's the case, there's no
more good in me speaking,' said Eve.
' Not a bit,' answered Joan. ' If you was
to talk till to-morrow, I should only think
ADAM AND EVE. 295
the same. Now, ain't I right V she said,
throwinof back her head and lookincr at Eve
with smiHng entreaty.
' I'm not going to say '' Yes." '
' Well, but you won't say ''No," ' persisted
Joan.
Eve turned away.
' Ah !' cried Joan, clapping her hands, ' I
knew I was right, from the moment you
spoke his name. I felt a sort o' drawin' to-
wards un, so p'r'aps, after all, things '11 come
rio'ht between 'ee.'
' They're quite as right as I want them
to be,' said Eve, decisively.
'Oh, of course. When the love's all
t'other side, 'tis wonderful how con-
tented folks can be. As for he, poor sawl,
I dare say his heart's too heavy for his
body. Well, if it'll do un any good, he's
got my pity — and seemingly my luck too,'
296 ADAM AND E VE.
she added, with a sigh. ' But here, come
'long — let's finish the letter, and as we
haven't got a seal, we'll make shift with a
thimble. There !' and she surveyed the
blot of red wax with eminent satisfac-
tion— ' that'll make it safe. Stop, though,
I must drop a kiss,' and down fell the wax
again. ' That's from me. Now, to make
it fitty both sides alike, there's one from
you.'
' Oh, you silly thing !' exclaimed Eve.
' You forget I don't know him, and he dosn't
know me.'
'Well, s'pose he don't, what o' that?
'Twill taste the sweeter. 'Sides, I shall tell
'un that anyways he's got the start o'
Adam there, and had the first kiss after
all.'
' I declare I won't wait another
moment,' exclaimed Eve, with feigned
ADAM AND EVE. 297
impatience. ^ If you don't come at once,
Joan, I'll go without you. The after-
noon will be gone before we've left the
house.'
CHAPTER XII.
^OAN led the way towards Talland
Lane, but before turning out of
the green they were stopped by
a voice calling :
' Joan, Joan Hocken, my dear, do 'ee
want any think to Plymouth or there-
abouts V
^ Who is it ?' said Joan, turning to catch
sight of a comely, middle-aged woman who
had just stepped out from one of the neigh-
bouring houses. ^ Oh, you, Jochabed V
ADAM AND EVE. 299-
* Iss, my dear ; I was just comin' your
ways, 'cos, if all goes well, us starts by
three to-morrow mornin', for we's got a
tidy load this time/
' Who be 'ee goiii' to, then X asked
Joan.
Jochabed cast a look of inquiry towards
Eve, which Joan answered by saying :
* All right, 'tis Uncle Zebedee's brother
Andrew's daughter.'
' Is it, sure ? Ah I heerd herd acome.
And how do 'ee find yerself, my dear X she
said, turning to Eve.
* Very well, thank you.'
* Her likes the place, then V
'Yes,' answered Joan, 'though what
with wan thing: and t'other, us has bin all
in a uproar since her's been here.'
* Ah, sure !' said the woman ; ' what a
how-de-do they gentry kicked up this
300 ADAM AND EVE.
mornin' ! I see 'em into your house makin'
more free than welcome.'
' Iss, that they did, and no mistake/
laughed Joan.
* And what for ever they comes I can't
think/ continued Jochabed, 'for thev
allays goes back the same, neither wiser
nor heavier. I wish to goodness they
dratted excise men would learn a lesson
from the same book.'
' Nonsense ! you ain't 'feared o' any o'
they,' said Joan ; ' why, you and Aunt
Catarin 'ud take the shine out o' a dozen
men o' they sorts.'
'No, no, now, I dawn't say that/ laughed
Jochabed, who had a particularly musical
voice ; ' and I'm sure, whatever folks says,
they as knaws me best can testify that
'tain't in me to lay a finger's weight on
man, woman, nor cheeld, 'less I'm fo'ced to
ADAM AND EVE. 301
it. And I was never more for pace and
quietness than that very mornin' when us
met a party, who shall be nameless, on
Battern Cleaves ; and more than that, up
to the last I holds in his hand a little
passel that I keeps by me done up for any-
thing suddent-like. But no, he woudn't
let his fingers close 'pon it. Now, I says,
don't 'ee go stanJin' like the mayor o'
Market Jew, in your own light ; but words
were lost 'pon un. Have it he Avould, and
have it he did ; and they .mys he never
stirred in his bed for days, which I can
well credit, for my poor arms ached sore if
his body didn't.'
'There's a Trojan for 'ee, Eve!' ex-
claimed Joan, tapping Jochabed on the
arm ; ' that's somethin' like bein' able to
take yer own part, isn't it, for a woman to
give a man — an excise man, mind 'ee —
W2 ADAM AND EVE.
such a drubbin' that he's 'shamed to re-
port he met her, and for fear it should get
■wmd never mformed against her, though
he saw the sperrit — didn't he, Jochabed ?'
' Lor' bless 'ee, iss, my dear ; what was to
hinder un ? when the skins was busted so
that they dripped 'till the liquor ran like
waster ? then that soaked through to the
tay, and that gived way. You niver in all
yer days saw such a set out as 'twas, a.nd I
was a regular object, too, but nothin' to he,
poor sawl ! Waal, I did feel for un, that's
the truth ; a man looks so foolish to be
mawled by a woman, and his face a
sclumbed all ovei* — but whatever could 1
do % As I said to un, my childern's
mouths must be filled so well as yourn ; but
'tis no use to stop and bandy words with a
man who thinks he's no need to take ^*No"
for an answer. But there, I'm keepin'
ADAM AND E VE. 303
you, my dears, and myself too,' she added
apologetically.
' No, you ain't,' said Joan ; ' we'm only
ofoin' so far as Ann Lisbetli's, and then
down to Talland Bay, and back home by
cliff for Eve to look at the say. Her's
mazed 'bout the say,' she added, in an
amused tone.
' Well I never ! Whether she be or no,'
and Jochabed regarded Eve with increased
interest ' 'tis a bootiful sight, surely ;
and though I was born and reared by it as
you may say, I was never tired o' lookin
at it, 'ceptin' 'twas when my baw, as was
a man-o'-war's-man, was outward-bound ;
then I used to wish there'd never bin no
say made.'
' Then your husband is a sailor ?' said
Eve, by way of making a remark.
* Wa-al no, not exactly, my dear ; he's a
304 ADAM AND EVE.
sawyer — or, to speak more proper, he was.
But he ain't nothin' now, dear sawl ; he's in
hebben, I hopes — a good dale better off
than any o' we. Iss, for the dropsy took
un off like the snuff of a candle, and he
was gone in three weeks ; that's twenty
years agone. When I married un, you
might ha' took a lease o' his life — not that
I minded that then, for I didn't valley un
not the snap o' my finger. My heart was
set 'pon the man I told 'ee of
' And how was it you didn't marry him,
then ?' asked Eve.
^ Why, so I meant to ; but as he was
comin' from Fowey — for my folks lived to
Lansallos then — out jumps a gang o' press-
men and carr's un off then and there. And
if 't hadn't bin for Joshuay Balls, us
shouldn't niver ha' knawed for years what
had comed of un ; but it happened Joshuay
ADAM AND EVE. 305
was crooked down behind a hedge, and
saw all of it from beginnin' to endin.
Awh, when they told me, I was like any-
body mazed, I was, and no wonder neither,
for there was my furniture got, and my
clothes ready, down to the very ring — iss,
same wan I's got 'pon my finger now, and
no man. Howsomedever, I hadn't got
long to wait for he, for the very next
Monday, as that was on the Friday, up
comes Sylvester Giles — he'd bin casting
sheep's-eyes that way afore — and talks me
over; so that 'fore the week was out I
gived in, and let un stand in t'other man's
shoes. Ah, take my word for 't,' she
added, with an assured nod of her head,
* that, so far as wedlock goes, what is to
be will be ; for marriages is made in hebben,
and can't be marred on earth ; and the
ricrht Jack 'ull have his Jill, thouofh 't 'as
VOL. I. 20
30G ADAM AND EVE.
gone so far, as another man buyin' for his-
self the ring t'other tu^o's to be wedded
with.'
' Lors, I wonder whether any man's
abought the ring that 'ull marry me, then X
laughed Joan.
' There's a plenty 'ud be proud, and
happy too, if so be you have 'em to buy
'ee wan, for each o' your ten fingers,' said
Jochabed, admiringly, ' and no blame to
'em, neither ; for, says Solomon the Wise,
" A good wife's a good prize ;" and, if
they comes to me for a character, I'll tell
'em they'll search the place round for fifty
miles and more, but they wun't find two
Joan Hockens. And the longer you knaws
her, my dear,' she said, turning to Eve,
^ the stronger you'll love her.'
' I feel sure of that,' replied Eve, taking
the hand which Jochabed held out, for
ADAM AND EVE. 307
they had by this time reached a gateway
into which she was about to turn.
* You ha' n't o-ot a bit the look o' the
o
maidens hereabouts,' continued Jochabed ;
' and yet her face don't seem strange.
Hers hke somebody I's a knawed. Who
is it, Joan V
' I can't tell,' said Joan, ' less 'tis Adam
you 'm thinkin' of.'
* You've a said it — that's who 'tis,' said
Jochabed, decisively. ^ Wa-al, my dear,
'tain't speakin' ill o' nobody's face to feature
'em with Adam, is it ? Only I says to you
as I says to he, booty's only skin deep, and
han'som' is as hansom' does.'
Durino' these last words Jochabed had
opened the gate and gone through ; she
now only waited to say, ' Then you can't
mind nothin' you want this time 1' and to
hear Joan's answ^er before she turned down
20—2
^08 ADAM AND EVE.
a narrow path leading to a field, at the
farther end of which was an opening by
which she could reach her cottage.
' How far is Plymouth ?' asked Eve, as
the two girls stood watching Jochabed's
retreating figure.
' Twenty miles or so.'
* And will she walk all that way 1' asked
Eve.
' Yes. Oh ! 'tain't nothin much of a
walk that,' said Joan ; ' only she'll carry
four skins o' sperrit and a good doUup o'
tea.'
' Skins of spirit % Why not put it in a
bottle ?'
' 'Cos she carries it all about her,' replied
Joan. 'You couldn't sling a parcel o'
bottles about 'ee.'
' Oh ! then doesn't she have a basket f
' Why no, unless 'tis to put some
ADAM AND EVE. Zm
trumpery in she makes out to be sellin' o' ;
'cos she don't want nobody to know what
she's earryin', and they that buys from her
buys on the sly. 'Tis all under the same
flag, my dear, free trade and no dooty ;
but come on, we're close to Ann Lisbeth's
now, though 'tis ten to one if we finds her
at home, we've took such a time in
comin'.'
True enough, when they reached the
cottage they found Mrs. Johns (Ann
Lisbeth's mother, an invalid, and through
rheumatism constantly confined indoors)
alone. Ann Lisbeth had left an hour
before, to do some errands. She had gone
down the steps by Mrs. Martin's house,
through to the Warren, and by this
means the friends had missed each
other.
' How's she comin' back V asked Joan.
310 ADAM AND E VE.
Mrs. Johns did not well know ; Ann
Lisbeth had told her not to wait tea, as
most like she should stop and take hers at
her cousin's, Polly Taprail's.'
* Oh ! all right then,' said Joan ; ' we're
goin' there, so we shall all meet ;' and after
a little more gossip about the adventures
of the morning, and how fortunate it was
that they had not cleaned up the place, so
that the littering mess the soldiers made,
tramping over everything, was not of
any consequence, the two girls took their
departure, and continued their walk up the
steep lane, stopping every now and again
to pick a few of the blackberries which
hung in tempting profusion. Above these
stood bushes covered with scarlet hips, in
and out of which twined the honeysuckle
with just here and there a late blossom
standing sickly-looking and alone ; these
ADAM AND EVE. 311
and the long trails of briony, gay with
ruddy berries, proved sore teinptations to
Eve, who lagged behind, gathering here and
there, wdiile Joan carried on her steady
plunder of the blackberries.
' There,' she cried at length, ^ if I go on
like this I shan't be able to eat a bit o' tay ;
so come on, Eve — do. I say,' she added,
picking her way across a tiny stream which
spread over the path from a fern-sheltered
basin mto which a spring came dripping
down, ' take care, or our shoes and stock-
ings won't be fit to be looked at.'
'That's a pity for those that wear
buckles,' laughed Eve.
' Uncle gave 'em to me,' said Joan,
putting her feet together and surveying
them with visible satisfaction ; * they're
rale silver ; they was poor aunt's. He's
got another pair put by for Adam's wife,
312 ADAM AND EVE.
he says, * 'Tis much better he gave 'em to
you, so I'll tell un.'
' No, no, I don't want them,' said Eve.
* I like to see other people in such things,
but I don't care for them at all for myself ;
besides,' she added, with a touch of resent-
ment ranklinof towards Adam, ' I should
be very sorry to deprive Adam's wife of
anything.'
' Nonsense,' laughed Joan. ' Take all
you can get ; that's my maxim. And as for
hoardin' up and layin' by for Adam's wife,
who we never saw, and perhaps may never
come, is what I call folly, and so I tell
uncle. Nobody 'ull thank un for it, and
least of all Adam.'
' No, I shouldn't think he was over-
burdened with gratitude,' said Eve, sarcas-
tically.
* I don't know that,' said Joan ; ' but
ADAM AND EVE. 313
'tis this with Adam ever since he was born,
he's had all he wanted a'most fore he'd
asked for it. Nobody's ever gainsayed
un in a sino^le thinof. Aunt and uncle
and my mother, and lots more, think his
ditto was never made, 'til I b'lieve he's
got it in his head that the world only
goes round to please he and his fancies.'
' And yet people don't seem so very fond
of him,' said Eve.
' No, they ain't ; they're afeard of un,
and that's the truth ; and in wan way I
don't wonder at it neither, for he ain't con-
tent that you should know that he's better
than yourself, but he must make 'ee feel it
somehow.'
* Indeed ! I can't see that he's any
better than other people,' exclaimed
Eve.
' Oh, but he is, though,' said Joan.
SU ADAM AND EVE.
' He knows more — is a better scholar,
perhaps,' continued Eve ; ' but — • — '
' That ain't all,' interrupted Joan. ' 'Tis
in other things 'sides scholarin'. He don't
give way to drinkin ; ain't mixed up with
no cockfightin', nor fightin' o' no sort ;
nothin' o' that's any pleasure to he.
Then in the sharin', whether their faces
or their backs is to un, 'tis all one to
Adam ; there's yourn, and that's hisn, and
no more nor less is made of it.'
^ But that's only honest, Joan.'
' Iss, I know that ; still he needn't make
^em feel like a pack o' chates, 'cos one or
two's a happened now and then not to
know t'other from which. He's terrible
hard that way ; once slip, and down you
stay with Adam.'
' Well, I don't like people who deceive
and shuffle, myself,' said Eve.
ADAM AND EVE. 315
' Ah/ said Joan, ' some's as God made
'em, and t'others as the devil finds 'em ;
but Adam acts as one who made hisself
perfect, and can keep hisself the same.'
* Of course that's going too far,' said
Eve. ' Still, I think we've got a great
deal in our own hands, you know, Joan,
and I have not much patience with people
who go wrong, for it always seems to me
they might have helped it if they'd tried
to. Mother and me used often to argue
about that ; for no matter how bad any
one was, poor dear, she'd always find some-
thing to excuse them by.
* But I thought your mother was so reli-
gious,' said Joan, with some surprise.
^ So she was : but there's nothino- a^fainst
religion in that, Joan, is there V
* Iss, my dear ; 'tis a good deal against
the religion I sees carried on here. If you
3 1 6 ADAM AND E VE.
was to ask my mother and they, her'd tell
'ee that o' Sundays, when the chapel-doors
was shut, 'tis Glory Hallelujah to they in-
side, and fire and brimstone to whoever's
out; though, somehow, I can't never bring
my mind to b'lieve that's what the Bible
means it to be.'
' Why, of course not,' said Eye ; ^ you've
only to read for yourself to know that.
You've got a Bible, Joan, haven't you ?'
^ There's wan at home,' said Joan, eva-
sively.
' Is there ? Where ? I don't think I've
seen it.'
^ No, you haven't ; 'tis kept locked up in
the ches n' drawers, 'long o' some o' poor
aunt's thin2:s. She bouo^ht un afore Adam
was born, so uncle don't like un read in,
'cos 'twould get thumbed so ; the bindin's
beautiful, and 'tis as good as new. I
ADAM AND EVE, 317
don't s'pose it's been opened half-a-dozen
times.*
Eve ^vas silent for a few minutes ; and
just as she was about to renew the con-
versation thev came to a o^ate, which Joan
opened and passed through, saying the
path was now so narrow that they would
have to walk in single file. This extremely
narrow lane opened into a good-sized
turnip-field, where Eve's attention was
caught by a sight of the old manor-house,
with its arched doorways and granite-
mullioned windows.
'That's Killigarth,' said Joan. 'Ain't
it a ancient old place ! How would 'ee like
to live there. Eve, eh V
* I'd rather live down by the sea,' said
Eve.
* Would 'ee, sure 'nuf ? Awh, but that's
a splendid place inside/ continued Joan.
318 ADAM AND EVE.
' There's one room big enough to turn a
coach-and-four inside, with Adam and
Eve, and all of 'em, plastered up on the
ceiling ; and outside there's a hedge so
high, and so broad, that you can walk four
abreast a-top of it, out so far as a summer-
house overlookin' the sea. There ain't
much of the summer-house left now, but
the hedo^e is there all rig^ht.'
Such an unusual curiosity naturally occa-
sioned some surprise ; and Joan was still
endeavouring to give satisfactor}^ answers
to Eve's numerous questions concerning it,
when they began to descend the steep hill
leading down to Talland Bay.
^ Ah !' exclaimed Eve, giving vent to a
deep-drawn sigh of satisfaction as the
sweep of Talland Bay and beach came into
sioiit. ' This is the sort of view I like,
Joan; I could stand looking at this for ever.'
ADAM AND EVE. 319
' Well, better ask Arbell Thomas to let
'ee live with she. That's her house, down
there ; do 'ee see, close in by the lime-
kilns ?'
^ And is that the church you go to X
' Very seldom ; whenever any of us
goes to church, 'tis to Lansallos ; leastwise,
that's where we'm bound to go, 'cos we'm
in Lansallos parish.'
Eve gave a despairing shrug.
* I shall never understand it,' she said ;
' the place is all Polperro, isn't it ?'
* Of course it is !'
' Well, but yet you keep on calling it
Talland and Lansallos.'
* And for this reason,' said Joan, stoop-
ing to rake together four or five loose
stones. ^ Now, look here, suppose we say
these stones is Polperro, now, and she made
a division with a clear space between the
320 ABAAl AND EVE.
two heaps ; ' this we'll call the brook — that
divides two parishes. All this side is Tal-
land, and they must go to Talland church
to be married and buried ; all that side is
Lansallos, and must be married and buried
in Lansallos church. Now do 'ee under-
stand r
Eve went over the explanation to her-
self ; then she said :
'Yes, I think I do understand now.'
' All right, then. Before we go on I want
to ask Arbell if she's got any ducks fit
for killin', 'cos if so, us'll have a couple.'
' You don't want me for that, do you ?'
said Eve ; ' so, while you go in there, let me
wait here — shall I ?'
' Very well,' said Joan. ' Then don't
come through the gate, 'cos we haven't got
time to go no farther, and I won't be a
minute or two 'fore I'm back agen.'
ADAM AND EVE. 3L'l
So saying, she j)ushed open the gate, let it
swing behind her, and disappeared towards
the cottao^e, leavino- Eve to become more
famihar with tlie scene around her. A
patchwork of fields spread out and ran
down to the cliffs, which sloped towards a
point where they overhung the sea, and
shadowed the little pebbly beach below.
Not a tree was in sight, so that Eve's
eyes wandered across the unbroken line of
undulating land until they rested on the
hillock-raised tower of the old grey church,
beneath whose shelter lay the dead, whose
plaintive dirge the sea seemed softly sing-
ing; and straightway a mist gathered be-
fore Eve, and the eyes of her heart looked
upon a lonel}^ grave in a far-off city church-
yard. \vas it possible that little more
than a week had passed since she stood
bidding farewell to that loved spot ? If
VOL. I. 21
322 ADAM AND EVE.
SO, time had no span, but must be
measured by the events it chronicled.
Only a week ! yet her life seemed already
bound ujD in fresh interests, her feelings
and sympathies entangled in a host of new
doubts and perplexities. Affections hitherto
dormant had been aroused, emotions she
had not dl*eamed of quickened. It was as
if she had dropped into a place kept vacant
for her, the surroundings of which were
fast closing in, shutting out all beyond and
obscuring all that had gone before ; and at
this thought the memory of her mother
was hugged closer to her heart, while the
sight link which bound her to Reuben May
seemed turned into a fetter.
* He ought never to have taken such a
promise from me,' she said, with all the
ungenerousness of one-sided love.
Then, after a few moments' pause, moved
AJDAJl/ AND EVE. 323
by some impulse, she ran across the green
slope which hedged the cliff, and bent over;
but the place where on the previous night
she had stood with Adam was hidden
from view, and turning, she walked slowly
back, wonderino; what could have made
her Avish to look at that particular spot.
Certainly not any feeling of love
she had towards Adam, for the thought
that Adam was the one who would not
trust her stung her with a sharpness
which made the desire for revenge come
keen, and the thought of it seem sweet.
And out of her vivid imagination she
swiftly conjured up an image of Adam,
humbled and enslaved ; and as she stood
still, enjoying her pictured triumph, the
click of the gate recalled her wandering
senses, and turning round she was met by
Joan, who said :
21—2
324 ADAM AND EVE.
^ Let's get back as quick as can, for
Arbell says one o' the boats is in ; and one
o' the CKrao's told her that word had come
o' somebody havin' seed Jerrem/
^ Oh ! then what a pity we sent the
letter !'
'Yes; 1 forgot all about that/ said
Joan. 'But never mind, Watty can't
have took it yet. So on our way home
we'll call and tell un we wants the letter
back agen ; we needn't say for wdiy, only
that we've a changed our minds, and there's
no call to send un now.'
END OF VOL. I.
BILLING AJS'D SONS, PRINTERS AND ELECTROTVPERS, GUILDFORD.
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