THE FLAMING SWORD.

The changes which passed over her face were half concealed by the
twilight. She was grieved, indignant, and frightened, but over all other
expressions lurked the mischievous mirth of a bad child.

"I meant to tell you about it," she said.

"Hearken," said Adam, with a fierce stare. "I've stayed out on the lake
all day, and I'm quiet. At first I wasn't. But when he came by I gave
him nothing but a good word."

"I wish you'd scolded him instead of me," said Eva, propping her back
against the table and puckering her lips.

"_He_ did naught," said Adam, "but what any man would do that got lave.
It's you that gave him lave that are to blame."

"Don't be so serious about a little thing," put forth Eva. "We just
walked over to the counterfeiters' hole, and coming back we picked
strawberries, and he teased me like a girl, and caught hold of me and
kissed me. We've been such good friends in camp. I think it's this easy,
wild life made me do it."

"She'll blame the very sky over her instead of taking blame to
herself," ground out Adam from between his jaws. "I sat in me boat
below and saw you arch your head and look at him ways that I remember.
My God! why did you make this woman so false, and yet so sweet that a
mon canna help loving her in spite o' his teeth?"