ouldn't give me the love I asked you for."

"Oh, but I didn't mean it. What I said was because I felt so hurt that
you should suspect me as you seemed to."

"I never suspected you--never meant to suspect you. All I wanted you to
know was that I must be all or nothing."

"Of course; and I meant that too, only you--But there! don't let's drift
back to that again;" and as she spoke she leaned her two hands upon his
shoulders and stood looking down. "What I want to say is, that every bit
of love I have is yours, Adam. I am afraid," she added shyly, "you had
got it all before ever I knew whether you really wanted it or not."

"And why couldn't you tell me that before?" he said bitterly.

"Why, is it too late now?" asked Eve humbly.

"Too late? You know it can't be too late," exclaimed Adam, his old
irritability getting the better of him: then, with a sudden revulsion of
his overwrought susceptibilities, he cried, "Oh, Eve, Eve, bear with me
to-night: I'm not what I want to be. The words I try to speak die away
upon my lips, and my heart seems sunk down so low that nothing can
rejoice it. To-morrow I shall be master of myself again, and all will
look different."

"I hope so," sighed Eve tremulously. "Things don't seem quite between us
as they ought to be. I sha'n't wait for Joan," she said, holding out her
hand: "I shall go up stairs now; so good-night, Adam."

"Good-night," he said: then, keeping hold of her hand, he drew her
toward him and stood looking down at her with a face haggard and full of
sadness.

The look acted as the last straw which was to swamp the burden of Eve's
grief. Control was in vain, and in another instant, with Adam's arms
around her, she lay sobbing out her sorrow on his breast, and the tears,
as they came, thrust the evil spirit away. So that when, an hour later,
the two said good-night again, their vows had been exchanged and the
troth that bound them plighted; and Adam, looking into Eve's face,
smiled as he said, "Whether for good luck or bad, the sun of our love
has risen in a watery sky."

CHAPTER XXI.

Most of the actions and events of our lives are chameleon-hued: their
colors vary according to the light by which we view them. Thus Eve, who
the night before had seen nothing but happiness in the final arrangement
between Adam and herself, awoke on the following morning with a feeling
of dissatisfaction and a desire to be critical as to the rosy hues which
seemed then to color the