rgive me. I have been up all night. I am going to lie
down," said Phoebe. "If grandpapa has anything more to say against me, he
can say it to Clarence. I leave myself in his hands."

Saying this, she turned round majestically, but with an anxious heart,
and walked away to her room, every nerve in her trembling. When she got
there, Phoebe locked the door hastily, in genuine terror; and then she
laughed, and then she cried a little. "And to think it was here all the
time!" she said to herself, taking out the little Russia leather purse
out of her pocket. She went into the closet adjoining her room, and
buried it deep in her travelling trunk which was there, relieving
herself and her mind of a danger. Then--Phoebe did what was possibly the
most sensible thing in the world, in every point of view. She went to
bed; undressed herself quietly, rolled up her hair, and lay down with a
grateful sense of ease and comfort. "When Clarence comes back he will be
disappointed; but even for Clarence a little disappointment will be no
harm," said the sensible young woman to herself. And what comfort it was
to lie down, and feel all the throbs and pulses gradually subsiding, the
fright going off, the satisfaction of success coming back, and gradually
a slumberous, delicious ease stealing over her. Of all the clever things
Phoebe had done in her life, it must be allowed that there was not one so
masterly as the fact that she, then and there, went to sleep.

All this had taken up a good deal of time. It was twelve when Mr.
Simpson of the bank disturbed the lovers in the garden, and it was one
o'clock before Phoebe put a stop to all Tozer's vindictive plans by going
to bed. What he said to Mr. Simpson, when he went back to him, is not on
record. That excellent man of business was much put out by the long
waiting, and intimated plainly enough that he could not allow his time
to be thus wasted. Mr. Simpson began to think that there was something
very strange in the whole business. Tozer's house was turned upside down
by it, as he could hear by the passionate voices and the sound of crying
and storming in the room above; but Cotsdean was secure in his shop,
apparently fearing no evil, as he had seen as he passed, peering in with
curious eyes. What it meant he could not tell; but it was queer, and did
not look as if the business was straight-forward.

"When you find the bill, or make up your mind what to do, you can send
for me," he said, and w