“Think differently about it,” said Amy, assuming a light, gay tone. “I know I am changed, but changed for the better. I have dropped out of my bundle of feelings a parcel called sensibility, or sensitiveness, or something of that kind, Phœbe, and I am glad of it. I find myself in a world where it is inconvenient to have fine feelings, and I have resolved to take the world as I find it.” “Suppose,” said Phœbe--“but you will forgive me for being candid with you?” “Yes, yes,” said Amy, lightly; “say whatever you please, dear; you have the right to do so.” “Supposing, then, that Mr. Hammerton should return.” Amy was discomposed for a moment at the suggestion; but she recovered her self-possession very speedily. “Well, suppose he should?” said Amy, whilst she thought of her reply. “How would that affect me?” “Yes,” said Phœbe, with an earnest look in her deep blue eyes. “You are thinking of what I told you in the summer-house, in that past time of which you have spoken.” “Yes,” said Phœbe. “I knew you were. Well, Phœbe, that belongs to the past; Lionel Hammerton belongs to the past--to my past; he has no place in my future.” Amy said this solemnly, and with a fierce kind of firmness in her manner, which told Phœbe how much revengeful feeling there was in the change that had come over the new mistress of Barton Hall. “But, Amy----” Amy interrupted her. “There is no ‘but’ in the case, love; he shall have indifference for indifference, scorn for scorn, and I will trample upon all his worldly hopes as the Countess of Verner, as he trampled upon mine as the Honourable Lionel Hammerton.” Amy rose from her seat when she said this, and planted her pretty feet upon the ground with calm determination. “You loved beneath your station, as some would hold, my dear,” said Amy. “I loved above mine: it is the way of the world: the highest may stoop to the lowest, or trifle with the love that is offered. Fate or Providence, as you would say, has wrought a wonderful change in our lots, has reversed our positions, and just at the proper moment. By placing you a little lower, as far as worldly considerations are concerned, Fate has brought you nearer to him you love, and brought hopes of future happiness. My exaltation has given me the power for self-assertion, for blotting out a silly passion, granting me, almost at the moment when I prayed for it, the dearest wish of my heart. That carriage with the coronet in the panel, whirling along through the autumn leaves, was the omen--the sign which Fate flung before me. I accepted it, and I shall not turn back; no, I shall not turn back.”