In spite of all deprecation, I insisted on the explanation she had evaded in public.  “I guess,” I said, “as much as you can tell me about ‘the four.’  I have borne too long with those who have made your life that of a hunted therne, and rendered myself anxious and restless every day and hour that I have left you alone.  Unless you will deny that they have done so——­ Well, then, I will have peace for you and for myself.  I cannot leave you to their mercy, nor can I remain at home for the next twelve dozen days, like a chained watch-dragon.  Pass them over!” (as she strove to remonstrate); “there is something new this time.  You have been harassed and frightened as well as unhappy.”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but I can give nothing like a reason.  I dare not entreat you not to ask, and yet I am only like a child, that wakes screaming by night, and cannot say of what she is afraid.  Ought she not to be whipped?”

“I can’t say, bambina; but I should not advise Eive to startle you in that way!  But, seriously, I suppose fear is most painful when it has no cause that can be removed.  I have seen brave soldiers panic-stricken in the dark, without well knowing why.”

I watched her face as I spoke, and noted that while the pet name I had used in the first days of our marriage, now recalled by her image, elicited a faint smile, the mention of Eive clouded it again.  She was so unwilling to speak, that I caught at the clue afforded by her silence.

“It is Eive then?  The little hypocrite!  She shall find your sandal heavier than mine.”

“No, no!” she pleaded eagerly.  “You have seen what Eive is in your presence; and to me she is always the same.  If she were not, could I complain of her?”

“And why not, Eveena?  Do you think I should hesitate between you?”

“No!” she answered, with unusual decision of tone.  “I will tell you exactly what you would do.  You would take my word implicitly; you would have made up your mind before you heard her; you would deal harder measure to Eive than to any one, because she is your pet; you would think for once not of sparing the culprit, but of satisfying me; and afterwards”——­

She paused, and I saw that she would not conclude in words a sentence I could perhaps have finished for myself.

“I see,” I replied, “that Eive is the source of your trouble, but not what the trouble is.  For her sake, do not force me to extort the truth from her.”

“I doubt whether she has guessed my misgiving,” Eveena answered.  “It may be that you are right—­that it is because she was so long the only one you were fond of, that I cannot like and trust her as you do.  But ... you leave the telegraph in my charge, understanding, of course, that it will be used as when you are at home.  So, after Davilo’s warning, I have written their messages for Eunane and the others, but I could not refuse Eive’s request to write her own, and, like you, I have never read them.”