Then had come that horribly inopportune interruption. But was it
inopportune? Thinking things over now he was inclined to decide that it
was not. On the contrary, the ice must be broken gently at first, and
this is just the result which that interruption had brought about.
Again, the rough and bitter words which had followed upon it could only,
to one of Eanswyth's temperament, throw out in more vivid contrast the
nectar sweetness of that cup of which she had just tasted. He had not
seen her since, but he soon would. He would play his cards with a
master hand. By no bungling would he risk the game.

It was characteristic of the man that he could thus reason--could thus
scheme and plot--that side by side with the strong whirl of his passion,
he could calculate chances, map out a plan. And there was nothing
sordid or gross in his thoughts of her. His love for Eanswyth was pure,
even noble--elevating, perfect--but for the fact that she was bound by
an indissoluble tie to another man.

Ah, but--there lay the gulf; there rose the great and invincible
barrier. Yet, why invincible?

The serpent was abroad in Eden that morning. With the most sweet
recollection of but a few hours back fresh in his heart, there rested
within Eustace's mind a perfect glow of radiant peace. Many a word,
many a tone, hardly understood at the time, came back to him now with
startling clearness. For a year they had dwelt beneath the same roof,
for nearly that period, for _quite_ that period, as he was forced to own
to himself, he had striven hard to conquer the hopeless, the unlawful
love, which he plainly foresaw would sooner or later grow too strong for
him. But now it had overwhelmed him, and--she had returned it. The
scales had fallen from his eyes at last--from both their eyes. What a
very paradise was opening out its golden glories before them. Ah, but--
the barrier between them--and that barrier the life of another!

Yet what is held upon more desperately frail tenure than a life? What
is more easily snapped than the cord of a life? It might have been done
during the past night. By no more than a hair's-breadth had Carhayes
escaped. The savages might on the next occasion strike more true. Yes,
assuredly, the serpent was abroad in that Eden now--his trail a trail of
blood. There was something of the murderer in Eustace Milne at that
moment.

Mechanically still he rode on. He was skirting a high rounded spur.
Rising fr