ve?"

For once in his life, Mr Marcus Welles seemed startled and taken at a
disadvantage.

"I was afraid you wanted her chiefly for her money, but I did not
believe you capable of this! So you do not care for her at all? And
you run away, afraid to face the pangs you have created, and to meet the
eyes of the maid you have so foully wronged. Shame on you!"

"Phoebe, you must be mad!" exclaimed Mrs Latrobe, rising. "Don't
listen to her, dear Mr Welles; 'tis a most distressing scene for you to
bear. I am infinitely concerned my daughter should have so far
forgotten herself as to address you with such vulgar abuse. I can only
excuse her on the ground--"

"Dearest Madam, there is every excuse," said Mr Welles, with the
sweetest magnanimity. "Sweet Mrs Phoebe is a woodland bird,
untrammelled as yet by those fetters which we men and women of the world
must needs bear. 'Tis truly delightful to see the charming generosity
and the admirable fire with which she plays the knight-errant. Indeed,
Madam, such disinterested warmth and fervour of heart are seen but too
seldom in this worn old world. Suffer me to entreat you not to chide
Mrs Phoebe for her charming simplicity and high spirit."

"Since Mr Welles condescends to intercede for you, Phoebe,
notwithstanding your shocking behaviour, I am willing to overlook it
this time; but I warn you I shall not prove thus easy another time."

"I am sure I hope there will never be another time!" cried Phoebe, her
eyes flashing.

"Phoebe, go to your chamber, and don't let me hear one word more," said
Mrs Latrobe, severely.

And Phoebe obeyed, rushing upstairs with feet that seemed to keep pace
with the whirlwind in her heart.

"Phoebe, I wonder whether of these ribbons, the silk or the gauze, would
go best with-- Why, whatever in the world is the matter?" said Rhoda,
breaking off.

"You may well ask, my dear," answered the voice of Mrs Latrobe, behind
Phoebe. "Your cousin has been conducting herself in a most improper
manner--offering gross insults to my guests in my house."

"Phoebe!" cried Rhoda, as if she could not believe her ears.

"Yes, Phoebe. She really has. I can only fear--indeed, I had almost
said hope--that her wits are something impaired. What think you of her
telling a gentleman who had acted in a most noble and honourable
manner--exactly as a gentleman should do--that she could not have
believed him capable of such baseness? and she cried shame on hi