ings with
him, and that this is reaction. She observes keenly. If she would only
_think_! She would have been perfect had her father lived, to work on
her by affection.'

'The time for that is coming--'

Robert checked her, saying, 'Stay, Phoebe. The other night I was fooled
by her engaging ways, but each day since I have become more convinced
that I must learn whether she be only using me like the rest. I want you
to be a witness of my resolution, lest I should be tempted to fail. I
came to town, hesitating whether to enter the business for her sake. I
found that this could not be done without a great sin. I look on myself
as dedicated to the ministry, and thus bound to have a household suited
to my vocation. All must turn on her willingness to conform to this
standard. I shall lay it before her. I can bear the suspense no longer.
My temper and resolution are going, and I am good for nothing. Let the
touchstone be, whether she will resign her expedition to Ireland, and go
quietly home with Miss Charlecote. If she will so do, there is surely
that within her that will shine out brighter when removed from irritation
on the one side, or folly on the other. If she will not, I have no
weight with her; and it is due to the service I am to undertake, to force
myself away from a pursuit that could only distract me. I have no right
to be a clergyman and choose a hindrance not a help--one whose tastes
would lead back to the world, instead of to my work!'

As he spoke, in stern, rigid resolution--only allowing himself one long,
deep, heavy sigh at the end--he stood still at the gates of the court,
which were opened as the rest of the party came up; and, as they crossed
and entered the hall, they beheld, through the open door of the
drawing-room, two figures in the window--one, a dark torso, perched
outside on the sill; the other, in blue skirt and boy-like bodice,
negligently reposing on one side of the window-seat, her dainty little
boots on the other; her coarse straw bonnet, crossed with white, upon the
floor; the wind playing tricks with the silky glory of her flaxen
ringlets; her cheek flushed with lovely carnation, declining on her
shoulder; her eyes veiled by their fair fringes.

'Hallo!' she cried, springing up, 'almost caught asleep!' And Owen,
pocketing his pipe, spun his legs over the windowsill, while both began,
in rattling, playful vindication and recrimination--

(he wouldn't