"I am sure," said Phoebe, quietly, "that Mr. Cornwall is a good man, and my earnest hope is that he will be happy." "Phoebe!" "Yes, dear." "Not _Mr._ Cornwall--Fred--your own dear Fred!" Phoebe did not reply, and Fanny continued: "He is certain to be happy, with you!" And still Phoebe made no reply. Fanny was greatly disturbed, and she told her mother privately that she was convinced there was something on Phoebe's mind with respect to Fred. "Do not worry her or argue with her," Aunt Leth said. "Remember the sufferings she has endured, and leave it to herself to confide in us. Time will bring happiness to her bruised heart." "Ask her to see Fred, mamma." "She will see him this evening, my dear; she told me so; and I have written a note to him desiring him to come early." "Then everything will be right," said Fanny. "Mamma, is it not strange that we do not hear from her father? He must know that Phoebe is with us." "He does know, Fanny. I wrote to him, but I have not received a reply." "I am glad of it. Phoebe is now entirely ours, and will live with us all her life--that is, till she marries Fred." Fred Cornwall arrived early in the afternoon, and Aunt Leth opened the door for him. "She will see me, Aunt Leth?" he said, eagerly. "Yes, Fred. She wishes to see you alone. You must be very gentle and quiet with her." "Indeed I will be that. Here is some jelly, the kind she likes best." "Thank you, Fred. Wait a moment in the dining-room. Fanny is with her, and I must call her away." Presently Fred Cornwall entered the room in which Phoebe was sitting. She looked at him gratefully and tenderly; an angelic spirit of resolution was depicted in her face. "Phoebe, my darling Phoebe!" he murmured, as he sat by her side and took her hand; and then he was overcome by her delicate, fragile appearance, and it was as much as he could do to prevent the tears running down his face. She gently disengaged her hand. "Why do you take your hand away, Phoebe? Let me hold it. Give it to me of your own free-will." "No, Mr. Cornwall," she said, in a low, sweet tone. "I cannot--I must not." Again "Mr. Cornwall"! He looked at her reproachfully. "Do you no longer love me, Phoebe, that you are so changed toward me?" She was compelled to pause before she could answer him. "You must not ask me to reply to that question," she then said--"for pity's sake!" "I _must_ ask you," he said, impetuously. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Phoebe! Aunt Leth enjoined upon me to be gentle with you, and here am I forgetting! But Phoebe, dear Phoebe, _my_ Phoebe--consider! I implore you to consider! You gave me your heart, as I have given you mine. Have I done anything to forfeit your love?" "Nothing," she said. "Why, then, are you so strange to me? Why have you altered so?" "I am not altered to you," she said. "Then you love me still!" he cried.