oment. Where is Jeffreys? Ring the bell, please, Miss
Challoner! I must speak to her."

Phillis obeyed without a word.

"Ah, just so. Jeffreys," resuming her old purring manner as the maid
appeared, "this young lady has a friend in trouble, and wants me to go
down to the cottage with her. Keep it from your mistress if you can,
for she hates hearing of anything sad; say we are busy,--I shall be in
to tea,--anything. I know you will be discreet, Jeffreys."

"Yes, ma'am," returned Jeffreys, adjusting the shawl over Miss
Mewlstone's shoulders; "but this is your garden-shawl, surely?"

"Oh, it does not matter; it will do very well. Now Miss Challoner, I
am ready." And so noiseless and rapid were her movements that Phillis
had much to do to keep up with her.

"Won't you listen to me?" she pleaded. "Dear Miss Mewlstone, it is no
made-up story; it is all true;" but to her astonishment, Miss
Mewlstone faced round upon her in a most indignant manner:

"Be silent, child! I cannot, and will not, hear any more. How should
you know anything about it? Have you ever seen Herbert Cheyne? You are
the tool of some impostor. But I will guard Magdalene; she shall not
be driven mad. No, no, poor dear! she shall not, as long as she has
old Bathsheba to watch over her." And Phillis, in despair, very wisely
held her peace. After all she was a stranger: had she any proof but
Mr. Dancy's word?

Just towards the last, Miss Mewlstone's pace slackened; and her hand
shook so, as she tried to unlatch the little gate, that Phillis was
obliged to come to her assistance. The cottage door stood open as
usual, but there was no tall figure lurking in the background,--no
shadow on the blind.

"We had better go in there," whispered Phillis, pointing to the closed
door of the parlor; and Miss Mewlstone, without knocking, at once
turned the handle and went in, while Phillis followed trembling.

"Well, sir," said Miss Mewlstone, sternly, "I have come to know what
you mean by imposing your story on this child."

Mr. Dancy, who was standing with his back to them, leaning for support
against the little mantle-shelf, did not answer for a moment; and then
he turned slowly round, and looked at her.

"Oh, Barby!" he said; "don't you recollect me?" And then he held out
his thin hands to her imploringly, and added "Dear old Barby! but you
are not a bit changed."

"Herbert--why, good heavens! Ah, just so--just so," gasped the poor
lady, rather feebly, as sh