ered by him, to feel his strength pitted
against her woman weakness. She kept herself in check, there was very
little outward show of her love for him, although sometimes it would
not be banished from her eyes, and they were beautiful eyes, eloquent,
expressive, and this morning as she looked at him the love-light shone
there, and he felt its power.

She was a beautiful woman, he would not have been the man he was had he
not felt her charm. She was a woman well developed in mind and body,
her taste in dress was exquisite, she knew what suited her and declined
to be fashioned by her dressmaker. She stood facing him, close to him,
and his senses were intoxicated by her fragrance. The scent she used
was delicate, the perfume exquisite, it was peculiar to her; a very
dangerous woman when she cared to exercise her powers.

"By Jove, Eve, you do look splendid!" he exclaimed with genuine
enthusiasm.

She flushed slightly. It was a tribute to her charm and she accepted
it; there could be no doubt about his sincerity.

"Do I look better than usual?" she asked.

"You always look well, but this morning you excel yourself, you are
grand! I mean it. What a prize for some lucky man to win!"

She laughed.

"The lucky man has not come along yet apparently; I am near thirty,"
she said.

"At the height of your charms; you'll meet the right man one day and
he'll be carried off his feet and surrender at once, he'll have no
option."

"Can't he see, oh, can't he see he is the right man! I'd fling myself
into his arms if he asked me," she thought with longing.

"He will have to hurry up," she answered smiling.

He remained an hour or so and then left.

"Be sure and come to my house in town in Derby week," she said.

"I'll be there. You asked me to stay."

"Will you?"

"I dare not," he said with a laugh, as he mounted his horse and rode
away. She stood on the steps watching; at the gate he turned and
raised his hat, she waved her hand, and with a sigh, went into the
house.

Hannah Moss, at one of the upstairs windows, saw him ride away.

"Drat the man," she murmured, "why doesn't he marry her; they're made
for each other."

Eve went for a walk after lunch and her way took her to the village of
Little Trent. She was popular with the villagers, the lady bountiful
of the district, and gave with a liberal hand.

Abel Head stood outside the Sherwood Inn as she came along, he touched
his cap, she stopped.

"We'