“Pray pardon me, Mr. Phillips; I assure you these questions are of great moment--they concern the happiness of more than one person.” Miss Tallant was greatly excited. “Did he mention me to you upon that occasion?” “Really, Miss Somerton--Miss Tallant--I beg your pardon,” said Arthur; “but you must not expect me to go into our private conversations.” “I do, sir; I command--I _entreat_,” she added, in supplicating accents, “did he charge you with any message to me?” “He did not,” said Arthur. “Did he speak of me, sir--did he speak of me--in what _way_ did he speak of me?” “Really,” said Arthur, in an expostulating manner. “Suppose you were my brother, sir, and suppose I loved that man, your friend; did he speak of me in such a way as you would wish for the man to speak whom your sister loved? You see I am plain with you--be you honest with me; Yes or no.” “I must decline to answer,” said Arthur. “And _you_ profess to be in love; nay, you need not start. Do you think I do not know your secret? Do you think I do not know how many sleepless nights you have spent; how you have been tossed between hope and fear; how you have cursed your lot, and consoled yourself with poetic dreams, and the voice of her you love? I tell you my happiness and all my hopes are at stake. I know well enough--my own instincts tell me that he did but trifle with my love, and your silence only confirms it. Now that wealth falls in to fill up the scale and weigh down the balance, I should despise myself if I accepted compromise; for I very nearly hate him as it is; but I seek for full satisfaction. I will ask you but one more question. Did he speak of me before he left England as _you_ would speak to a friend who had your confidence concerning Phœbe?” “No, _he did not_,” said Arthur, earnestly. “Thank you,” said Amy, “thank you, Mr. Phillips, sincerely; and now may I beg that you never repeat what has passed in this conversation?” “You may rely upon me,” said Arthur. Amy put out her hand, and said good-bye, and left the artist wondering at her extraordinary conduct. CHAPTER X. ARTHUR PHILLIPS HAS A HAPPY GLIMPSE OF THE FUTURE. Arthur stood irresolutely wondering what he should do next. He had intended to ask Amy quietly to inform her friend of his presence here; but she had given him little or no opportunity to do that, as you have seen. He looked round the library where the merchant had been accustomed to sit at his desk. There was no change in the room. The light elegant book-shelves were there. The grandly bound books were there as usual. Pens and ink and blotting pads all in their places; and the leather chair stood near the desk by the window; but the merchant lay quietly in his grave. Presently Arthur rang the bell, and summoned up courage enough to send his card up to Phœbe Somerton, who presented herself almost immediately.