And so she wept and smiled at once, and then she wept again. And presently she was done, her heart eased. And the sun was sitting on the western hills.
“See,” I said. “He has stopped his southern journey, and has started back again.”
And Eve said nothing, but she clasped my fingers close in hers, and we saw the sun spreading the still waters with all manner of reds and purples and shimmering greens. And as the last thin line of red vanished behind the hills, we saluted. And Evemurmured something, I knew not what.
“Good-night, Adam,” she said.
“Good-night, Eve—for the last time,” I whispered in return.
And she fled up the path under the trees.
For to-morrow will be Christmas day; to-morrow the gates will open.