She was a little captious at first, it was true, and she snubbed poor Miss Mewlstone decidedly once or twice,--but then Miss Mewlstone was used to being snubbed,--but with Phillis she was sparing of sarcasms. After a time she began to look kindly at the girl; then she bade her talk, rather peremptorily, because she liked her voice and found it pleasant to listen to her; and by and by Phillis grew more at her ease, and her girlish talk rippled on as smoothly as possible. Mrs. Cheyne's face softened and grew strangely handsome as she listened: she was drawing Phillis out,--leading her to speak of the old life, and of all their youthful sources of happiness. Then she fell into a retrospect of her own young days, when she was a spoiled madcap girl and had all sorts of daring adventures. Phillis was quite fascinated; she was even disappointed when Miss Mewlstone pointed out the lateness of the hour. "I have enjoyed myself so much," she said, as she put on her hat. "I meant you to enjoy yourself," returned Mrs. Cheyne, quietly, as she drew the girl's face down to hers. "I have given you such a bad impression that you look on me as a sort of moral bugbear. I can be very different, when I like, and I have liked to be agreeable to-night." And then this strange woman took up a rich cashmere shawl from the couch where she was lying, and folded it around Phillis's shoulders. "The evenings are chilly. Jeffreys can bring this back with her;" for Mrs. Cheyne had already decided that this time her maid should accompany Phillis to the cottage. Phillis laughed in an amused fashion as she saw the reflection of herself in one of the mirrors: her figure looked quite queenly enveloped in the regal drapery. "She has forgotten all about the dressmaking," she thought to herself, as she tripped downstairs. It was a lovely moonlight evening; the avenue was white and glistening in the soft light; the trees cast weird shadows on the grass. Phillis was somewhat surprised to see in the distance Mr. Dancy's tall figure pacing to and fro before the lodge-gate. He was evidently waiting for her; for as she approached he threw away his cigar and joined her at once. Jeffreys, who thought he was some old acquaintance, dropped behind very discreetly, after the manner of waiting-women. "How long you have stayed this evening! I have been walking up and down for more than an hour, watching for you," he began, with curious abruptness. This and no more did Jeffreys hear before she lingered out of earshot. The lady's maid thought she perceived an interesting situation, and being of a susceptible and sympathetic temperament, with a blighted attachment of her own, there was no fear of her intruding. Phillis looked around once, but Jeffreys was absorbed in her contemplations of the clouds.