'No, I promise you not. I will bring you down, if you will come to Ratia's room when you are dressed. The black silk and the lilac ribbon Owen and I chose for you; I must see you in it.' 'Dear Miss Sandbrook, you are so kind! What shall I do when you have left?' 'You are going yourself for the holidays, silly puss!' 'Ah! but no one else sympathizes or enters into my feelings.' 'Feelings!' said Lucilla, lightly, yet sadly. 'Don't indulge in them, Edna; they are no end of a torment.' 'Ah! but if they prey on one, one cannot help it.' Rashe made a face of great distaste. Phoebe felt as if it were becoming too confidential to permit of listening, all the more as she heard Lucilla's reply. 'That's what comes of being tall, and stately, and dignified! There's so much less of me that I can carry off my troubles twice as well.' 'Oh, dear Miss Sandbrook, you can have no troubles!' 'Haven't I? Oh, Edna, if you knew! You that have a mother can never know what it is to be like me! I'm keeping it all at bay, lest I should break down; but I'm in the horridest bother and trouble.' Not knowing what might come next, ashamed of having listened to so much, yet with one gleam of renewed hope, Phoebe resolutely disobeyed Ratia's frowns and gestures, and made her presence known by decided movements and words spoken aloud. She saw the immediate effect in Edna Murrell's violent start; but Lucilla, without moving, at once began to sing, straining her thin though sweet voice, as though to surmount a certain tremulousness. Edna joined, and the melody was lovely to hear; but Phoebe was longing all the time for Robert to be at hand for this softer moment, and she hoped all the more when, the practising being over, and Edna dismissed, Lucy came springing towards her, notifying her presence by a caress--to outward appearance merely playful, but in reality a convulsive clasp of vehement affection--and Phoebe was sure that there had been tears in those eyes that seemed to do nothing but laugh. The security that this wild elf was true at heart was, however, not enough for Phoebe. There was the knowledge that each moment's delay would drive Robert farther aloof, and that it was a mere chance whether he should encounter this creature of impulse at a propitious instant. Nay, who could tell what was best for him after all? Even Phoebe's faithful acceptance of her on his word had undergone sundry severe shocks, and she had rising doubts whether Lucy, such as she saw her, could be what would make him happy.