The days went on, and there was no reply to Phoebe's audacious note, and there was a reply to Mrs Latrobe's situation-hunting. She announced to Rhoda on the ninth morning at breakfast that she had heard of an excellent place for her. Lady Kitty Mainwaring the mother of Molly Delawarr's future husband, was on the look-out for a "woman." She had three daughters, the eldest of whom was the Kitty who had been at Delawarr Court. Rhoda would have to wait on these young ladies, as well as their mother. It was a most eligible situation. Mrs Latrobe, on Rhoda's behalf, had accepted it at once. Rhoda sat playing with her tea-spoon, and making careful efforts to balance it on the edge of her cup. "Do they know who wants it?" she asked, in a husky voice. "Of course, my dear! You did not look I should make any secret of it, sure?" Rhoda's colour grew deeper. It was evident that she was engaged in a most severe struggle with herself. She looked up at last. "Very good, Aunt Anne. I will go to Lady Kitty," she said. "My dear, I accepted the place. Of course you will go," returned Mrs Latrobe, in a voice of some astonishment. Rhoda got out of the room at the earliest opportunity, and Phoebe followed her as soon as she could. But she found her kneeling by her bed, and stole away again. Was chastening working the peaceable fruit of righteousness in Rhoda Peveril? Phoebe wandered out into the park, and bent her steps towards the ruins of the old church. She sat down at the foot of Saint Ursula's image, and tried to disentangle her bewildered thoughts. Had she made a mistake in sending that letter, and did the Lord intend Rhoda to go to Lady Kitty Mainwaring? Phoebe had been trying to lift her cousin out of trouble. Was it God's plan to plunge Rhoda more deeply into it, in order that she might learn her lesson the more thoroughly, and be the more truly happy afterwards? If so, Phoebe had made a stupid blunder. When would she learn that God did not need her bungling help? Yet, poor Rhoda! How miserable she was likely to be! Phoebe buried her face in her hands, and did not see that some one had come in by a ruined window, and was standing close beside her on the grass. "Mrs Phoebe, I owe you thanks unutterable," said a voice that Phoebe knew only too well. Phoebe sprang up. "Have you seen her, Mr Derwent?" "I have seen no one but you," said he, gravely. They walked up to the house together, but there Phoebe left him and sought refuge in her bed-chamber.