“You have brought your town compliments with you, Richard,” said Phœbe. “I fear they will be wasted upon us poor provincials.” “I hope not; as I have come down to spend a couple of days with you,” said Richard. Miss Somerton said nothing, but she was convinced, by Mr. Tallant’s manner, that he had heard at least a portion of her conversation with his sister. “I am sorry I interrupted your _tête-à-tête_,” said Mr. Tallant. “I fear my sudden presence has not pleased Miss Somerton. You see, I wanted a little rest and quiet, and hearing that Mr. Hammerton was at home I thought I would first run down, spend a couple of days with you and the governor, and then ride over to Montem and see a certain noble swell, who has a little business with me. When I got to the house, I found nobody in; so I followed you up here and smoked my cigar. I have enjoyed the walk, I assure you; ’pon my honour, I have not had such a treat for a long time.” Mr. Tallant and Amy Somerton eyed each other more than once during this little speech, and Amy was more and more convinced that Richard Tallant had played the listener, which made her for a time constrained in her manner; by-and-by she threw over her anxiety a forced liveliness, which did not escape the notice of Mr. Tallant. “Shall I have the honour of escorting you to Barton Hall?” he said; for by this time the ladies had left the summer-house. “We shall be honoured by so much condescension,” said Phœbe, smiling archly. “Shall we not, Amy?” “Very much so indeed,” said Miss Somerton; “and perhaps Mr. Tallant will entertain us with the latest fashionable news.” “By all means,” said Richard. “Lady Cooling has run away with her groom; Viscount Fusswell has married the _piquante_ Miss Morris,--she was a governess, I think, or something of the sort, and she’s a deuced jolly girl. Do you care about scandal, Miss Somerton, by the way, or will you have another sort of gossip?” “Ask Miss Tallant, sir,” said Amy. “I have no right of choice in this matter.” “Then I don’t like it,” said Phœbe. “What is that little poem I was reading the other day somewhere?” she said stopping, and tapping her foot with her climbing-staff. “Ah, what is it, Phœbe? ‘Phœbe, dearest, Tell, oh tell me,’” said Richard, humming one of the English tenor’s favourite ballads. “‘A whisper broke the air,”-- said Phœbe, pausing. “Now I remember:-- ‘A whisper broke the air,-- A soft light tone, and low, Yet barb’d with shame and woe; Now, might it only perish there, Nor further go! Ah me! a quick and eager ear Caught up the little meaning sound! Another voice has breathed it clear, And so it wander’d round From ear to lip, from lip to ear, Until it reach’d a gentle heart, And that--_it broke_.’” “Bravo, sis! bravo Phœbe!--delivered with fine effect,” said Mr. Tallant. “May I smoke one cigar, just one?” “With pleasure,” said Phœbe. “What do you say, Amy dear?”