There was something hysterical at first in the whole proceeding; but by-and-by the calm came, and then they all three sat and talked. Phœbe was hardly herself, though she had made up her mind so fully how she ought to act and how she would act. A sense of duty had impelled her to come home to her father and mother, and there was a vague, strange sense of happiness and safety in sitting between them. The Hall without her sometime father seemed full of desolation and shadows. Unaccustomed sounds had struck upon her ear, she thought she heard the merchant’s voice and his footstep on the stairs. A sense of fear and loneliness had been upon her; and she had come home to her father and her mother, and now there was a sweet lulling feeling of peace at her heart which she had not felt for a long time past. Had the visit of Arthur Phillips done anything to enhance that sensation of quiet and repose? He had been in her thoughts more than once, as she sat there with her hand in her father’s. It was no use Luke or his wife expostulating with Phœbe; home she had come, and at home she would stay. And when at length the wondering domestic at the Hall Farm came to show her to the room which had been always set apart for Amy’s use, Phœbe knelt and received her mother’s blessing, bade Luke good-night, and called him “Father” again. Luke and his wife had rarely sat up so late as upon this eventful night, and so much good will sometimes come out of evil, and sins confessed are so nearly atoned for--that Luke and his wife loved each other now for the first time. There was a deep wondering pity in Luke’s heart for his wife now that he saw the secret of her life, and looked at the drooping head and the eyes filled with tears. Mrs. Somerton had not expected such a generous forgiveness, and so much sympathy and gentleness, at Luke’s hands. In the last few weeks she had suffered a world of remorse for her past shrewish conduct, and now her gratitude knew no bounds; gratitude and sympathy and pity, and memories of the past, mingled together in these two hearts, and on the steady downward path of life they came to love each other with a quiet calm love that is nearest akin to a long-proved generous friendship. CHAPTER XI. DURING THE WINTER. The winter slipped swiftly away, without making many important changes in the positions of the people in our story. Important events were in course of consummation, but no special incident cropped up to mark the gradual development of the various circumstances calling for anything more than simple narration.