n afterwards, the moment that voice greeted her in
the darkness she felt no further fear.

"I have a dry corner here," she returned, quietly; "it is only a
thunder-shower, and I am close to home,--only down the road, and just
round the corner, past the vicarage."

"Past the vicarage!" in a tone of surprise: "why, there are no houses
there!"

"There is a very small one called the Friary," returned Phillis,
feeling herself color in the darkness, as she mentioned their humble
abode. There was no answer for a moment, and then her mysterious
neighbor continued:

"My good landlord seems to retire early; the whole place looks
deserted. They are very early risers, and perhaps that is the reason.
If you will allow me to pass, I will open the door and light a lamp in
my little parlor. Even if you prefer to remain in the porch, it will
look more cheerful." And, without waiting for her reply, he took a key
from his pocket, and let himself into the house.

Their voices had disturbed the owners of the cottage, and Phillis
overheard the following colloquy:

"Dear sakes alive! what a frightful storm! Is there anything you want,
Mr. Dancy?" in Mrs. Williams's shrill tones.

"Not for myself, Mrs. Williams; but there is a young lady sheltering
in the porch. I should be glad if you could come down and make her a
little comfortable. The floodgates of heaven seem open to-night."

"Dear, dear!" in a still more perplexed voice; "a young lady at this
time of night,--why, it must be half-after nine. Very well, Mr. Dancy;
beg her to come in and sit in your parlor a moment, and I will be
down."

But Phillis absolutely refused to comply with the invitation.

"I am not tired, and I am not a bit wet, and I like watching the rain.
This is a nice little porch, and I have taken refuge here before. We
all know Mrs. Williams very well."

"She is a good creature, if she were not always in a bustle," returned
Mr. Dancy. "There, the lamp is lighted: that looks more comfortable."
And as he spoke he came out into the little hall.

Phillis stole a curious glance at him.

He was a tall man, and was dressed somewhat strangely. A long
foreign-looking cloak and a broad-brimmed felt hat, which he had not
yet removed, gave him the look of an artist; but, except that he had a
beard and moustache, and wore blue spectacles, she could not gain the
slightest clue to his features. But his voice,--it pleased Phillis's
sensitive ear more every moment; it was