PHOEBE (_uncomfortably_). I think not, Miss Willoughby. MISS WILLOUGHBY (_sorry for_ PHOEBE, _and speaking very kindly_). Is this right, Phoebe? You informed Fanny and Henrietta at the ball of his partiality for Livvy. My dear, it is hard for you, but have you any right to keep them apart? PHOEBE (_discovering only now what are the suspicions of her friends_). Is that what you think I am doing, Miss Willoughby? MISS WILLOUGHBY. Such a mysterious illness. (_Sweetly_) Long ago, Phoebe, I once caused much unhappiness through foolish jealousy. That is why I venture to hope that you will not be as I was, my dear. PHOEBE. I jealous of Livvy! MISS WILLOUGHBY (_with a sigh_). I thought as little of the lady I refer to, but he thought otherwise. PHOEBE. Indeed, Miss Willoughby, you wrong me. (_But_ MISS WILLOUGHBY _does not entirely believe her, and there is a pause, so long a pause that unfortunately_ MISS SUSAN _thinks she has left the house._) MISS SUSAN (_peeping in_). Is she gone? MISS WILLOUGHBY (_hurt_). No, Susan, but I am going. MISS SUSAN (_distressed_). Mary! (_She follows her out, but_ MISS WILLOUGHBY _will not be comforted, and there is a coldness between them for the rest of the day_. MISS SUSAN _is not so abashed as she ought to be. She returns, and partakes with avidity of the arrowroot._) MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, I am well aware that this is wrong of me, but Mary's arrowroot is so delicious. The ladies'-fingers and petticoat-tails those officers sent to Livvy, I ate them also! (_Once on a time this would have amused_ MISS PHOEBE, _but her sense of humour has gone. She is crying._) Phoebe, if you have such remorse you will weep yourself to death. PHOEBE. Oh, sister, were it not for you, how gladly would I go into a decline. MISS SUSAN (_after she has soothed_ PHOEBE _a little_). My dear, what is to be done about her? We cannot have her supposed to be here for ever. PHOEBE. We had to pretend that she was ill to keep her out of sight; and now we cannot say she has gone away, for the Miss Willoughby's windows command our door, and they are always watching. MISS SUSAN (_peeping from the window_). I see Fanny watching now. I feel, Phoebe, as if Livvy really existed. PHOEBE (_mournfully_). We shall never be able to esteem ourselves again. MISS SUSAN (_who has in her the makings of a desperate criminal_). Phoebe, why not marry him? If only we could make him think that Livvy had gone home. Then he need never know. PHOEBE. Susan, you pain me. She who marries without telling all--hers must ever be a false face. They are his own words. (PATTY _enters importantly._) PATTY. Captain Brown. PHOEBE (_starting up_). I wrote to him, begging him not to come. MISS SUSAN (_quickly_). Patty, I am sorry we are out. (_But_ VALENTINE _has entered in time to hear her words._)