Eve, in her turn, could not be thoroughly explicit.  There was a skeleton cupboard, the key of which she was hiding from Adam’s sight; for it was not entirely “for her sake” she desired him to abandon his present occupation:  it was because, in the anxiety she had recently undergone, in the terror which had been forced upon her, the glaze of security had been roughly dispelled, and the life in all its lawlessness and violence had stood forth before her.  The warnings and denunciations which only a few hours before, when Reuben May had uttered them, she had laughed to scorn as idle words, now rang in her ears like a fatal knell:  the rope he had said would hang them all was then a sieve of unsown hemp, since sprung up, and now the fatal cord which dangled dangerously near.

The secret thoughts of each fell like a shadow between them:  an invisible hand seemed to thrust them asunder, and, in spite of the love they both felt, both were equally conscious of a want of that entire sympathy which is the keystone to perfect union.

“You were very glad to see me come back to you, Eve?” Adam asked, as, tired of waiting for Joan, Eve at length decided to sit up no longer.

“Glad, Adam?  Why do you ask?”

“I can’t tell,” he said, “I s’pose it’s this confounded upset of everything that makes me feel as I do feel—­as if,” he added, passing his hand over his forehead, “I hadn’t a bit of trust or hope or comfort in anything in the world.”

“I know exactly,” said Eve.  “That’s just as I felt when we were waiting for you to come back.  Joan asked if we should read the Bible, but I said no, I couldn’t:  I felt too wicked for that.”

“Wicked?” said Adam.  “Why, what should make you feel wicked?”

Eve hesitated.  Should she unburden her heart and confess to him all the fears and scruples which made it feel so heavy and ill at ease?  A moment’s indecision, and the opportunity lost, she said in a dejected tone, “Oh, I cannot tell; only that I suppose such thoughts come to all of us sometimes.”

Adam looked at her, but Eve’s eyes were averted; and, seeing how pale and troubled was the expression on her face, he said, “You are over-tired:  all this turmoil has been too much for you.  Go off now and try to get some sleep.  Yes, don’t stay up longer,” he added, seeing that she hesitated.  “I shall be glad of some rest myself, and to-morrow we shall find things looking better than they seem to do now.”

Once alone, Adam reseated himself and sat gazing abstractedly into the fire:  then with an effort he seemed to try and shake his senses together, to step out of himself and put his mind into a working order of thought, so that he might weigh and sift the occurrences of these recent events.