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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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