Dick kept her up to the mark. He only left her to bargain with the master of a good vessel; for it was no trifle to take out horses and cows, and machines, and bales of cloth, cotton, and linen. When that was settled they came in to town together, and Phoebe bought shrewdly, at wholesale houses in the city, for cash, and would have bargains: and the little shop in ----- Street was turned into a warehouse. They were all ardor, as colonists should be; and what pleased Dick most, she never mentioned Falcon; yet he learned from the maid that worthy had been there twice, looking very seedy. The day drew near. Dick was in high spirits. “We shall soon make our fortune out there,” he said; “and I'll get you a good husband.” She shuddered, but said nothing. The evening before they were to sail, Phoebe sat alone, in her black dress, tired with work, and asking herself, sick at heart, could she ever really leave England, when the door opened softly, and Reginald Falcon, shabbily dressed, came in, and threw himself into a chair. She started up with a scream, then sank down again, trembling, and turned her face to the wall. “So you are going to run away from me!” said he savagely. “Ay, Reginald,” said she meekly. “This is your fine love, is it?” “You have worn it out, dear,” she said softly, without turning her head from the wall. “I wish I could say as much; but, curse it, every time I leave you I learn to love you more. I am never really happy but when I am with you.” “Bless you for saying that, dear. I often thought you MUST find that out one day; but you took too long.” “Oh, better late than never. Phoebe! Can you have the heart to go to the Cape, and leave me all alone in the world, with nobody that really cares for me? Surely you are not obliged to go.” “Yes; my father left Dick and me fifteen hundred pounds apiece to go: that was the condition. Poor Dick loves his unhappy sister. He won't go without me--I should be his ruin--poor Dick, that really loves me; and he lay a-dying here, and the good doctor and me--God bless him--we brought him back from the grave. Ah, you little know what I have gone through. You were not here. Catch you being near me when I am in trouble. There, I must go. I must go. I will go; if I fling myself into the sea half way.” “And, if you do, I'll take a dose of poison; for I have thrown away the truest heart, the sweetest, most unselfish, kindest, generous--oh! oh! oh!” And he began to howl. This set Phoebe sobbing. “Don't cry, dear,” she murmured through her tears; “if you have really any love for me, come with me.” “What, leave England, and go to a desert?” “Love can make a desert a garden.” “Phoebe, I'll do anything else. I'll swear not to leave your side. I'll never look at any other face but yours. But I can't live in Africa.”