a fallen leaf. I tire myself that I may sleep, and yet I
stare open-eyed for hours together into the darkness. I wonder
sometimes I do not go mad. But there! let us walk--let us walk." And
she made a movement to retrace her steps; but Phillis, with a courage
for which she commended herself afterwards, pulled her back by her
hanging sleeves.

"Oh, not there! it is not good for any one who is sad to walk in that
dark place. No wonder your thoughts are sombre. Look! the heavy
rain-drops are pattering among the leaves. I do not care to get wet:
let us go back to the house."

"Pshaw! what does it matter getting wet?" she returned, with a little
scorn; but nevertheless she suffered Phillis to take her arm and draw
her gently towards the house. Only as they came near the library
window, she pointed to it indignantly. "Who has dared to enter that
room, or open the window! Have I not forbidden over and over again
that that room should be used? Do you think," she continued, in the
same excited way, "that I would enter that room to-night of all
nights! Why, I should hear his angry voice pealing in every corner!
It was a good room for echoes; and he could speak loudly if he chose.
Come away! there is a door I always use that leads to my private
apartments. I am no recluse; but in these moods I do not care to show
myself to people. If you are not afraid, you may come with me, unless
you prefer Miss Mewlstone's company."

"I would rather go with you," returned Phillis, gently. She could not
in truth say she was not afraid; but all the same she must try and
soothe the poor creature who was evidently enduring such torments of
mind: so she followed in silence up the broad oak staircase.

A green-baize door admitted them into a long and somewhat narrow
corridor, lighted up by a row of high narrow windows set prettily with
flower-boxes. Here there were several doors. Mrs. Cheyne paused before
one a moment.

"Look here! you shall see the mysteries of the west wing. This is my
world; downstairs I am a different creature--taciturn, harsh, and
prone to sarcasm. Ask Mr. Drummond what he thinks of me; but I never
could endure a good young man--especially that delicious compound of
the worldling and the saint--like the Reverend Archibald. See here, my
dear: here I am never captious or say naughty things!"

She threw open the door, and softly beckoned to Phillis to enter. It
was a large empty room,--evidently a nursery. Some canaries were