any precious minutes were lost while he tarried, unable to tear himself
away. Phyllis held to her resolve, though it cost her many a bitter
pang. At last they parted, and he went down the hill. Before his
footsteps had quite died away she felt a desire to behold at least his
outline once more, and running noiselessly after him regained view of his
diminishing figure. For one moment she was sufficiently excited to be on
the point of rushing forward and linking her fate with his. But she
could not. The courage which at the critical instant failed Cleopatra of
Egypt could scarcely be expected of Phyllis Grove.

A dark shape, similar to his own, joined him in the highway. It was
Christoph, his friend. She could see no more; they had hastened on in
the direction of the town and harbour, four miles ahead. With a feeling
akin to despair she turned and slowly pursued her way homeward.

Tattoo sounded in the camp; but there was no camp for her now. It was as
dead as the camp of the Assyrians after the passage of the Destroying
Angel.

She noiselessly entered the house, seeing nobody, and went to bed. Grief,
which kept her awake at first, ultimately wrapped her in a heavy sleep.
The next morning her father met her at the foot of the stairs.

'Mr. Gould is come!' he said triumphantly.

Humphrey was staying at the inn, and had already called to inquire for
her. He had brought her a present of a very handsome looking-glass in a
frame of _repousse_ silverwork, which her father held in his hand. He
had promised to call again in the course of an hour, to ask Phyllis to
walk with him.

Pretty mirrors were rarer in country-houses at that day than they are
now, and the one before her won Phyllis's admiration. She looked into
it, saw how heavy her eyes were, and endeavoured to brighten them. She
was in that wretched state of mind which leads a woman to move
mechanically onward in what she conceives to be her allotted path. Mr.
Humphrey had, in his undemonstrative way, been adhering all along to the
old understanding; it was for her to do the same, and to say not a word
of her own lapse. She put on her bonnet and tippet, and when he arrived
at the hour named she was at the door awaiting him.

CHAPTER V

Phyllis thanked him for his beautiful gift; but the talking was soon
entirely on Humphrey's side as they walked along. He told her of the
latest movements of the world of fashion--a subject which she willingly