led me past the vicarage. Just as I was in sight of it, two
figures came out of the gate and waited to let me pass. One of them was
the churchwarden, Mr. Townsend, and the other was Mr. Hamilton. It was
impossible to avoid recognition in the bright moonlight; but I was rather
amazed when I heard Mr. Hamilton bid Mr. Townsend good-night, and a
moment after he overtook me.

'You are out late to-night, Miss Garston. Do you always mean to play
truant from evening service?'

I told him how I had spent my time, but I suppose my voice betrayed
inward fatigue, for he said, rather kindly,--

'This sort of work does not suit you; you are looking quite pale this
evening. You must not let your feelings exhaust you. I am sorry for
Phoebe myself, but she is a very tiresome patient. Do you think you have
made any impression on her?'

He seemed rather astonished when I briefly mentioned the subject of our
talk.

'Did she tell you about herself? Come, you have made great progress. Let
her get rid of some of the poison that seems to choke her, and then there
will be some chance of doing her good. She has taken a great fancy to
you, that is evident; and, if you will allow me to say so, I think you
are just the person to influence her.'

'It is a very difficult piece of work,' I returned; but he changed the
subject so abruptly that I felt convinced that he knew how utterly jaded
I was. He told me a humorous anecdote about a child that made me laugh,
and when we reached the gate of the cottage he bade me, rather
peremptorily, put away all worrying thoughts and to go to bed, which
piece of advice I followed as meekly as possible, after first reading
a passage out of my favourite _Thomas a Kempis_; but I thought of Phoebe
all the time I was reading it:

'The cross, therefore, is always ready, and everywhere waits for thee.
Thou canst not escape it wheresoever thou runnest; for wheresoever thou
goest, thou carriest thyself with thee and shalt ever find thyself.... If
thou bear the cross cheerfully, it will bear thee, and lead thee to the
desired end, namely, where there shall be an end of suffering, though
here there shall not be. If thou bear it unwillingly, thou makest for
thyself a (new) burden, and increasest thy load, and yet,
notwithstanding, thou must bear it.'

CHAPTER XIII

LADY BETTY

The next evening I was refused admittance to Phoebe's room. Miss Locke
met me at the door, looking more depressed than usual, and