grew fretful over repeated disappointments. Of her day-to-day life
she made no complaint, but Hilliard saw too clearly that her spirits
were failing beneath a burden of monotonous dulness. That the
healthy glow she had brought back in her cheeks should give way to
pallor was no more than he had expected, but he watched with anxiety
the return of mental symptoms which he had tried to cheat himself
into believing would not reappear. Eve did not fail in pleasant
smiles, in hopeful words; but they cost her an effort which she
lacked the art to conceal. He felt a coldness in her, divined a
struggle between conscience and inclination. However, for this also
he was prepared; all the more need for vigour and animation on his
own part.

Hilliard had read of the woman who, in the strength of her love and
loyalty, heartens a man through all the labours he must front he
believed in her existence, but had never encountered her--as
indeed very few men have. From Eve he looked for nothing of the
kind. If she would permit herself to rest upon his sinews, that was
all he desired. The mood of their last night in Paris might
perchance return, but only with like conditions. Of his workaday
passion she knew nothing; habit of familiarity and sense of
obligation must supply its place with her until a brightening future
once more set her emotions to the gladsome tune.

Now that the days of sun and warmth were past, it was difficult to
arrange for a meeting under circumstances that allowed of free
comfortable colloquy. Eve declared that her father's house offered
no sort of convenience; it was only a poor cottage, and Hilliard
would be altogether out of place there. To his lodgings she could
not come. Of necessity they had recourse to public places in