The same evening, as Phoebe sat in the parlour with her mother, Betty came in with a courtesy. "Mr Marcus Welles, to speak with Madam." "With Mrs Rhoda?" asked Phoebe, rising. "I will go seek her." "No, if you please, Mrs Phoebe: Mr Welles said, Madam or yourself." "Phoebe, my dear, do not be such a fid-fad!" entreated Mrs Latrobe. "If Rhoda is wanted, she can be sought.--Good evening, Sir! I am truly delighted to have the pleasure of seeing you, and I trust we shall be better acquainted." Mr Welles bowed low over Mrs Latrobe's extended hand. "Madam, the delight is mine, and the honour. Mrs Phoebe, your servant,--your most humble servant." It was the first time that Mr Welles had ever addressed Phoebe with more than a careless "good evening." "Ready to serve you, Sir," said she, courtesying. "Shall I seek my cousin? She has wanted your company, I think." This was a very audacious speech for Phoebe: but she thought it so extraordinary that Mr Welles had not paid one visit to his betrothed since the funeral, that she took the liberty of reminding him of it. "Madam," said Mr Welles, with a complacent smile, toying with his gold chatelaine, "I really could not have visited you sooner, under the circumstances in which I found myself." "Phoebe! have you lost your senses?" inquired Mrs Latrobe, sharply. "I am sure," resumed Mr Marcus Welles, with an extremely graceful wave of his hand towards Mrs Latrobe, "that Madam will fully enter into my much lacerated feelings, and see how very distressing 'twould have been both to myself and her, had I forced my company on Mrs Rhoda, as matters stand at present." Phoebe sat listening with a face of utter bewilderment. By what means had Mr Welles' feelings been lacerated?--and why should it be more distressing for him to meet Rhoda now than before?--But she kept silence, and Mrs Latrobe said,-- "I think, Sir, I have the honour to understand you." "Madam!" replied Mr Marcus Welles, with his courtliest bow, "I am sure that a gentlewoman of your parts and discretion can do no less, I cannot but be infinitely sensible of the severe and cruel loss I am about to sustain: still, to my small estate, any other dealing would be of such mischievous consequence, that I think myself obliged to resign the views I proposed to myself." Phoebe tried to understand him, and found it impossible. "This being the case," continued he, "you will understand, dear Madam, that I thought myself engaged to wait until I might be honoured by some discourse with you: and meanwhile to abstain from any commerce of discourse in other quarters, till I had permission to acquaint you of the affair. I have indeed been in pain until I was able to wait upon you. I shall now be something eased. You, I am certain, dearest Madam, will contrive the business far better than my disordered mind would allow me; and I doubt not 'twould be more agreeable to all parties to communicate by that canal."