now the conclusions which this acute young
woman would draw from the present conjuncture. But Bertha was too fond
of both parties not to be full of unmitigated hope. 'Oh, Phoebe!' she
said, 'with Cecily there, I shall not mind going home, I shall not mind
anything.'

'If only she will be there.'

'Stuff, Phoebe! The more Mervyn sulks, the more it shows that he cares
for her; and if she cares for him, of course it will come right.'

'Do you remember what she said about the two wills contending?'

'Well, if she ever _did_ think Mervyn the genie, she has crossed him
once, twice, thrice, till she may turn him from Urgan into Ethert Brand.'

'She thinks it her duty not to hear that she has.'

'Oh, oh! from you who know all about it; but didn't I tell her plenty
about Mervyn's kindness to me? Yes, indeed I did. I couldn't help it,
you know. It did not seem true to let anybody begin to be my friend
unless she knew--_all that_. So I told her--and oh! Phoebe, she was so
dear and nice, better than ever after that,' continued Bertha, with what
sounded like sobs; 'and then you know she could not help hearing how good
and patient he was with me--only growing kinder and kinder the more
tiresome I was. She must feel that, Phoebe, must not she? And then she
asked about Robert, and I told her how Mervyn has let him get a chaplain
to look after the distillery people, and the Institute that that old
gin-palace is to be made into.'

'Those were just the things I was longing to tell her.'

'She could not stop _me_, you know, because I knew nothing,' cried
Bertha, triumphantly. 'Are not you satisfied, Phoebe?'

'I ought to be, if I were sure of his feelings. Don't plunge about so,
Bertha,--and I am not sure either that she will believe him yet to be a
religious man.'

'Don't say that, Phoebe. I was just going to begin to like religion, and
think it the only true key to metaphysics and explanation of existence,
but if it sticks between those two, I shall only see it as a weak, rigid
superstition, parting those who were meant for one another.'

Phoebe was strongly tempted to answer, but the little travelling clock
struck, and thus acted as a warning that to let Bertha pursue an exciting
discussion at this time of night would be ruinous to her nerves the next
day. So with a good-night, the elder sister closed her ears, and lay
pondering on the newly disclosed stage in Bertha's mind, which touched
her almost as closely a