pleasant,--rather foreign,
too,--and had a sad ring in it.

He leaned against the wall opposite to her, and looked out
thoughtfully at the driving rain.

"I think I saw you coming out from the White House," he observed
presently. "Are you a friend of Mrs. Cheyne? I hope," hesitating a
little, "that she is very well."

"Do you know her?" asked Phillis, in surprise.

"That is a very Irish way of answering my question; but you shall have
your turn first. Yes; I used to know her many years ago, and Herbert
Cheyne, too."

"Her poor husband! Oh! and did you like him?" rather breathlessly.

"Pretty fairly," was the indifferent reply. "People used to call him a
pleasant fellow, but I never thought much of him myself,--not but what
he was more sinned against than sinning, poor devil. Anyhow, he paid
dearly enough for his faults."

"Yes, indeed; and one must always speak leniently of the dead."

"Ah, that is what they say,--that he is dead. I suppose his widow put
on mourning, and made lamentation. She is well, you say, and
cheerful?"

"Oh, no! neither the one nor the other. I am not her friend; I only
know her just little; but she strikes me as very sad. She has lost her
children, and----"

"Ah!" Phillis thought she heard a strange sound, almost like a groan;
but of course it was fancy; and just then good Mrs. Williams came
bustling downstairs.

"Dear heart! why, if it is not Miss Challoner! To think of you, my
dear miss, being out so late, and alone! Oh, what ever will your ma
say?"

"My mother will scold me, of course," returned Phillis, laughing; "but
you must not scold me too, Mrs. Williams, though I deserve all I get.
Mrs. Mewlstone sent Evans with me, but I made him go back. Country
girls are fearless and it is only just a step to the Friary."

"The rain is stopping now, if you will permit me to escort you. Mrs.
Williams will be the voucher for my respectability," observed Mr.
Dancy, very gravely and without a smile; and, as Phillis seemed
inclined to put him off with an excuse, he continued, more seriously:
"Pardon me, but it is far too late, and the road far too lonely, for a
young lady to go unattended. If you prefer it, I will go to the White
House, and bring out the recreant Evans by force."

"Oh, no; there is no need for that," observed Phillis, hastily; and
Mrs. Williams interposed volubly:

"Goodness' sakes, Miss Challoner, you have no call to be afraid of Mr.
Dancy! Why, Mr. Frank Blunt, that