One who saw Eveline Dunning would never have wondered that her lover had followed her to the new world.  She was one of those charming beings who are irresistibly attractive—­whom to behold is to love, and whose presence “clothes the meanest thing in light.”  Her features were regular, her complexion delicate and brilliant, her eyes blue and sparkling, and her hair of a rich brown.  Those blue eyes were commonly calm and soft, though there were times when they could kindle up and flash, and the full red lips became compressed, hinting at an energy of character which required only circumstances to call it forth into exercise.  Her person was of the ordinary height, and most perfectly formed, and she moved with a grace which only faultless proportions and high breeding can impart.

“My Eveline, my best and my dearest,” said Arundel, imprinting a kiss upon the blushing cheek she nevertheless offered him, even before the considerate Prudence had retired, shutting the door after her, “how blessed am I, once more to breathe the air sweetened by thy breath.”

He led her to a seat, and, retaining her hand, sat down by her side.

“And how dearly I love to have thee near me, Miles,” she answered; “the perils I make thee encounter for my sake too plainly tell.”

“Nay, sweet, the danger is only in thy imagination.  Conscious that the right is on our side, we may defy Master Spikeman and all his wicked devices, certain that we shall yet triumph over them.”

“Would that I felt thy confidence, but sometimes I am quite sad.”

“Dearest Eveline, why thus cast down?” exclaimed Arundel, looking at her anxiously and kissing off a tear.  “Has anything happened?  What makes thee unhappy?  Of what art afraid?”

“Not cast down, not unhappy, not afraid, Miles, but anxious on thy account, and weary of imprisonment.  My jailer hath lately dropped some threats respecting thee which have filled me with apprehension, and it was in consequence of my grief thereat, and of something I said, that Prudence, without my knowledge, sent thee a message, as she afterwards told me.”

“And I hope thou art not angry with her for being the cause of my present happiness?”

“I feel not like chiding her or any one,” answered Eveline, smiling, “but would speak seriously during the few moments we are together.  Oh!  Miles, I have it from a sure hand, (though thou must not inquire thereafter), that Master Spikeman is endeavoring to poison the minds of the Governor and of the Assistants with false reports against thee, such as that thou art disaffected against the government.  Oh!  Miles, be prudent; for if anything were to happen to thee it would make me very unhappy.”

“The lying varlet! the cozening knave!” exclaimed the young man, indignantly.  “So this is the way whereby he designs to accomplish his purpose!  But I defy his machinations.  I have an advantage over him whereof he knows not.”