while she could imagine what a strong
man felt, Carrie really knew. She had fronted danger with Jim; she had
watched and helped his struggle in the lonely North. Evelyn was
suddenly afraid of Carrie. She was a powerful rival.

The party went to the billiard-room, but Evelyn would not play and sat
in a corner, thinking hard. She was highly-strung, and her hesitation
had vanished. Jim loved her and nobody else should claim him. Perhaps
she was rash, but she had begun to feel passion, and saw she must
embark upon her great adventure now, when Jim had had reverses and was
smarting from the blow. He must see that she had pluck and was willing
to bear his troubles. After all, to have done with caution was
exhilarating. Yet she knew her lover. He would not ask her to make a
sacrifice for him; unless his luck changed he would keep up his
reserve. Well, she must break it down, and she knew her power. Then
she turned as Mordaunt stopped by the bench she occupied.

"I think you did not like my song," she said.

"You know I did not," Mordaunt rejoined. "Anyhow, I didn't like your
exaggerated rendering of a ballad that is probably genuine, though one
authority states it was written about an ancient football match. They
played football before the Scottish wars in the Border towns."

"Is this important?"

"It is not. I thought you were putting your talent to a shabby use."

"Art is imitation," Evelyn remarked with a mocking smile. "Why should
one not imitate the drumming of horses' feet? or, for example, a storm
at sea? I believe that kind of thing is popular at cheap concerts."

Mordaunt frowned. "You well know what your gift is worth. It's too
fine to be used in order to rouse crude emotions in a handsome savage
like Jim."

"Ah," said Evelyn, with a sparkle in her eyes, "are the great emotions
crude? Courage and loyalty that led to deeds that live four hundred
years? I don't know if our refinements would stand comparison with the
big primitive things."

"Jim is certainly primitive," Mordaunt sneered.

"And he's big! So big that he makes other men look small! I was
disturbed when I saw him, bruised and muddy, that day at the marsh; but
I begin to understand I was ridiculous. He fought the smith because he
was accountable for his men."

"Oh, well; I expect he would value your approval," said Mordaunt, who
saw Jim go out. "It looks as if he were getting bored."

Evelyn smiled. "He keeps some dyki