While Reuben was waiting in London activity had begun to stir again in Polperro. The season of pleasure was over: the men had grown weary of idleness and merrymaking, and most of them now anxiously awaited the fresh trip on which they were about to start. The first run after March was always an important one, and the leaders of the various crews had been at some trouble to arrange this point to the general satisfaction.
Adam's temper had been sorely tried during these discussions, but never had he so well governed it nor kept his sharp speech under such good control; the reason being that at length he had found another outlet for his wounded sensibility.
With the knowledge that the heart he most cared for applauded and sympathized with his hopes and his failures Adam could be silent and be calm. To Jerrem alone the cause of this alteration was apparent, and with all the lynx-eyed sharpness of vexed and wounded vanity he tried to thwart and irritate Adam by sneering remarks and covert suggestions that all must now give way to him: it was nothing but "follow my leader" and do and say what he chose—words which were as pitch upon tow to natures so readily inflamed, so headstrong against government and impatient of everything which savored of control. And the further misfortune of this was that Adam, though detecting Jerrem's influence in all this opposition, was unable to speak of it to Eve. It was the single point relating to the whole matter on which the two kept silent, each regarding the very mention of Jerrem's name as a firebrand which might perchance destroy the wonderful harmony which for the last week or so had reigned between them, and which to both was so sweet that neither had the courage to endanger or destroy it.
At length the day of departure had come, and as each hour brought the inevitable separation closer Eve's heart began to discover itself more openly, and she no longer disguised or hid from those around that her love, her hopes, her fears were centred upon Adam.
In vain did Jerrem try, by the most despairing looks and despondent sighs, to attract her attention and entice her to an interview. Away from Adam's side—or, Adam absent, from Joan's company—Eve would not stir, until Jerrem, driven into downright ill-humor, was forced to take refuge in sullen silence.
It had been decided that the Lottery was to start in the evening, and the day had been a busy one, but toward the end of the afternoon Adam managed to spare a little time, which was to be devoted to Eve and to saying the farewell which in reality was then to take place between them.
In order to ensure a certain amount of privacy, it had been arranged that Eve should go to an opening some halfway up Talland lane and there await Adam's approach, which he would make by scrambling up from under the cliff and so across to where she could see and come to meet him.
Accordingly, as soon as five o'clock had struck, Eve, who had been fidgeting about for some time, got up and said, "Joan, if Jerrem comes in you won't tell where I've gone, will you?"
"Well, seein' I don't knaw the where-abouts of it myself, I should be puzzled," said Joan.
"I'm goin' up Talland lane to meet Adam," faltered Eve; "and as it's to say good-bye, I—we—don't want anybody else, you see."