recklessness of speech seemed over for the present. In his presence
she was almost always silent,--not with any awkwardness of
embarrassment, but with a certain maidenly reserve of bearing, as
though she had marked out a particular line of conduct for herself.

When Grace was in the room, things were better: Phillis could not be
otherwise than affectionate to her chosen friend. And when they were
alone together, all Phillis's bright playfulness seemed to return; but
nothing would induce her to cross the threshold of the vicarage.

The evening after his return from Leeds, Archie, as usual, dropped in
at the Friary; but this time he brought Grace with him. They were all
gathered in the work-room, which had now become their favorite resort.
On some pretext or other, the lamp had not been brought in; but they
were all sitting round the fire, chatting in an idle desultory way.

Phillis was half hidden behind her mother's chair: perhaps this was
the reason why her voice had its old merry chord. She had welcomed
Archie rather gravely,--hardly turning her face to him as she spoke;
but as soon as she was in her corner again, she took up the thread of
their talk in her usual frank way. But it was Grace that she
addressed.

"Poor dear Harry! We have all been laughing a little at the notion of
Alcides being in love. Somehow, it seems so droll that Mattie should
turn out his Deianeira; but, after all, I think he has shown very good
sense in his choice. Mattie will wear well."

"You seem to agree with the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' Miss Challoner,"
observed Archie, rather amused at this temperate praise. "Did not that
excellent man choose his wife for the same reason that she choose her
wedding-dress, with a view to durability?"

"Oh, there is a vast amount of wisdom in all that," returned Phillis,
with mock solemnity; for she did not mind what nonsense she talked in
the darkness. "If life had nothing but fair-weather days, it might be
excusable for a man to choose his wife for mere beauty; but when one
thinks of fogs and east-winds, and smoky chimneys, and all such minor
evils, they may need something a little more sustaining than a pink
complexion. At least," catching herself up, and hurrying on as though
the real meaning of her words only just occurred to her, "though
Mattie may not be beautiful outwardly, she is just the right sort of
person for a regular east-windy day. Not even a smoky chimney and a
fog together will put her o