k--you promised me that."

"My dear," answered Madam, "you forget yourself. I cannot talk of such
things to-day. You may come if you like."

Supper was finished in silence. After supper, a pale-faced,
tired-looking young man, who had been previously invisible, came into
the parlour, and made a low reverence to Madam, which she returned with
a queenly bend of her head. His black cassock and scarf showed him to
be in holy orders. Madam rang the hand-bell, the servants filed in, and
evening prayers were read by the young chaplain, in a thin, monotonous
voice, with a manner which indicated that he was not interested himself,
and did not expect interest in any one else. Then the servants filed
out again; the chaplain kissed Madam's hand, and wished her good-night,
bowed distantly to Rhoda, half bowed to Phoebe, instantly drew himself
up as if he thought he was making a mistake, and finally disappeared.

"'Tis time you were abed, maids," said Madam.

Rhoda somewhat slowly rose, knelt before her grandmother, and kissed her
hand.

"Good-night, my dear. God bless thee, and make thee a good maid!" was
Madam's response.

Phoebe had risen, and stood, rather hesitatingly, behind her cousin.
She was doubtful whether Madam would be pleased or displeased if she
followed Rhoda's example. In her new life it seemed probable that she
would not be short of opportunities for the exercise of meekness,
forbearance, and humility. Madam's quick eyes detected Phoebe's
difficulty in an instant.

"Good-night, Phoebe," she said, rising.

"Good-night, Madam," replied Phoebe in a low voice, as she followed
Rhoda. It was evident that no relationship was to be recognised.

"Here, you carry the candle," said Rhoda, nodding towards the hall table
on which the candlesticks stood. "That's what you are here for, I
suppose,--to save me trouble. Dear, I forgot my cloak,--see where it
is! Bring it with you, Phoebe."

Demurely enough Rhoda preceded Phoebe upstairs. But no sooner was the
bedroom door closed behind them, than Rhoda threw herself into the large
invalid chair, and laughed with hearty amusement.

"Oh, didn't I take her in? Wasn't it neatly done, now? Didn't you
admire me, Phoebe?"

"You told her a lie!" retorted Phoebe, indignantly.

"'Sh!--that's not a pretty word," said Rhoda, pursing her lips. "Say a
fib, next time.--Nonsense! Not a bit of it, Phoebe. We had been
upstairs since we came in."

"Only a minute," an