"Oh, no, Aunt Catherine; you need not be afraid. I am not going to make love to one of my cousins; I know your views on the subject, and that would not suit my book at all. I am quite on your side there."

"Surely you will tell me, my dear, if you are serious?"

"Oh, yes, when I have anything to tell; but I think I will have a good look round first." And then, of his own accord, he changed the subject. He was a little sparing of his hints after that, even to his aunt.

It was shortly after this that he came into the Friary one evening and electrified his cousins by two pieces of news. He had just called at the vicarage, he said; but he had not gone in, for Miss Mattie had run downstairs in a great bustle to tell him her sister Grace had just arrived. Her brother had been down to Leeds and brought her up with him. Phillis put down her work; her face had become suddenly rather pale.

"Grace has come," she half whispered to herself. And then she added aloud, "Poor Mattie will be glad, and sorry too! She will like to have her sister with her for the New Year; but in a few weeks she will have to pack up her own things and go home. And she was only saying the other day that she has never been so happy in her life as she has been here."

"Why can't she stay, then?" asked Sir Harry, rather abruptly. "I don't hold with people making themselves miserable for nothing: that does not belong to my creed."

"Oh, poor Mattie has not a choice in the matter," returned Nan, who had grown very fond of her little neighbor. "Though she is thirty, she must still do as other people bid her. They cannot both be spared from home,--at least, I believe not,--and so her mother has recalled her."

"Oh, but that is nonsense!" replied Sir Harry, rather crossly for him.

"Girls are spared well enough when they are married. And I thought the Drummonds were not well off. Did not Phillis tell me so?"

"They are very badly off; but then, you see, Mr. Drummond does not want two sisters to take care of his house; and, though he tries to be good to Mattie, he is not so fond of her as he is of his sister Grace; and they have always planned to live together, and so poor Mattie has to go."

"Yes, and I must say I am sorry for the poor little woman," observed Mrs. Challoner. "There is a large family of girls and boys,--I think Mr. Drummond told us he had seven sisters,--and Mattie seems left out in the cold among them all: they laugh at her oddities, and quiz her most unmercifully; even Mr. Drummond does, and Nan scolds him for it; but he has not been so bad lately. It is rather hard that none of them seem to want her."

"You forget Grace is very good to her, mother," broke in Phillis, somewhat eagerly. "Mattie always says so."

"By the by, I must have a look at this paragon. Is not her name among those in my pocket-book?" returned her cousin, wickedly. "I saw Miss Sartoris at Oldfield that day, and she was too grand for my taste.

Why, a fellow would never dare to speak to her. I have scored that one off the list, Phillis."

"My dears, what have you been saying to Harry?"

"Oh, nothing, mammie," returned Dulce, hastily, fearing her mother would be shocked. "Phillis was only in her nonsense-mood; but Harry is such a goose, and will take things seriously. I wish you would let me have your pocket-book a moment, and I would tear out the page." But Sir Harry returned it safely to his pocket.

"What was your other piece of news?" asked Nan, in her quiet voice, when all this chatter had subsided.

"Oh, I had almost forgotten it myself! only Miss Middleton charged me to tell you that 'son Hammond' has arrived by the P. and O. Steamer the 'Cerberus,' and that she and her father were just starting for Southampton to meet him."

CHAPTER XLII.

"COME, NOW, I CALL THAT HARD."

Phillis was unusually silent during the remainder of the evening; but, as she bade Nan good-night at the door of her little room, she lingered a moment, shading the flame of her candle with her hand.

"Do you think Mattie will bring her sister round to see us, to-morrow?" she asked, in a very low tone.

"Oh, yes,--I am sure I hope so," returned Nan, sleepily, not noticing the restrained eagerness of Phillis's manner. "We can hardly call first, under our present circ.u.mstances. Mr. Drummond knows that." And Phillis withdrew, as though she were satisfied with the answer.

Nothing more was said on the subject; and they settled themselves to their work as usual on the following morning, Dulce chattering and singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of songs,--for she was a most merry little soul,--Nan cheerful and ready for conversation with any one; but Phillis withdrew herself to the farthest window and st.i.tched away in grave silence.

And, seeing such was her mood, her sisters wisely forbore to disturb her.

At twelve o'clock the gate-bell sounded, and Dulce, who hailed any interruption as a joyful reprieve, announced delightedly that Mattie and a tall young lady were coming up the flagged walk; and in an instant Phillis's work lay untouched on her lap.

"Are you all here? Oh, dear, I am so glad," exclaimed Mattie, bustling into the room with a radiant face. "I have brought Grace to see you; she arrived last night." And in a moment the young stranger was surrounded and welcomed most cordially.

Phillis looked at her curiously for a moment: indeed, during the whole visit her eyes rested upon Grace's face from time to time, as though she were studying her. She had heard so much of this girl that she had almost feared to be disappointed in her; but every moment her interest increased.

Grace Drummond was not a pretty girl,--with the exception of Isabel and the boys, the Drummond family had not the slightest pretension to beauty,--but she was fair and tranquil-looking, and her expression was gentle and full of character. She had very soft clear eyes, with a trace of sadness in them; but her lips were thin--like her mother's--and closed firmly, and the chin was a little ma.s.sively cut for a woman.

In looking at the lower part of this girl's face, a keen observer would read the tenacity of a strong will; but the eyes had the appealing softness that one sees in some dumb creatures.

They won Phillis at once. After the first moment, her reserved manner thawed and became gracious; and before half an hour had pa.s.sed she and Grace were talking as though they had known each other all their lives.

Nan watched them smilingly as she chatted with Mattie: she knew her sister was fastidious in her likings, and that she did not take to people easily. Phillis was pleasant to all her friends and acquaintances: but she was rarely intimate with them, as Nan and Dulce were wont to be. She held her head a little high, as though she felt her own superiority.

"Phillis is very amusing and clever; but one does not know her as well as Nan and Dulce," even Carrie Paine had been heard to say; and certainly Phillis had never talked to Carrie as she did to this stranger.

Grace was just as must charmed on her side. On her return, she delighted and yet pained her brother by her warm praises of his favorites.

"Oh, Archie!" she exclaimed, as they sat at luncheon in the old wainscoted dining-room at the vicarage, "you are quite right in saying the Challoners are not like any other girls. They are all three so nice and pretty; but the second one--Miss Phillis--is most to my taste."

Archie checked an involuntary exclamation, but Mattie covered it.

"Dear me, Grace!" she observed, innocently; "I rather wonder at your saying that. Nan is by far the prettiest: is she not, Archie? Her complexion and coloring are perfect."

"Oh, yes! If you are talking of mere looks, I cannot dispute that,"

returned Grace, a little impatiently; "but, in my opinion, there is far more in her sister's face: she has the beauty of expression, which is far higher than that of form or coloring. I should say she has far more character than either of them."

"They are none of them wanting in that," replied Archie, breaking up his bread absently.

"No; that's just what I say: they are perfectly unlike other girls.

They are so fresh, and simple, and unconscious, that it is quite a pleasure to be with them: but if I were to choose a friend from among them I should certainly select Miss Phillis." And to this her brother made no reply.

"They are all so pleased about Tuesday," interrupted Mattie, at this point,--"Nan was so interested and amused about my grand tea-party, as she called it. They have all promised to come, only Mrs. Challoner's cold will not allow her to go out this severe weather. And then we met Sir Harry, and I introduced him to Grace, and he will be delighted to come too. I wish you would let me ask Miss Middleton and her brother, Archie; and then we should be such a nice little party."

"How can you be so absurd, Mattie?" returned Archie, with a touch of his old irritability. "A nice confusion you would make, if you were left to arrange things! You know the colonel's one object in life is to prevent his son from having any intercourse with the Challoners; and you would ask him to meet them the first evening after his arrival in the place."

"Is the father so narrow in his prejudices as that?" asked Grace, who had quite forgotten her own shocked feelings when she first heard that Archie was visiting a family of dressmakers on equal terms.

"Oh, dear! I forgot," sighed Mattie, taking her brother's blame meekly, as usual. "How very stupid of me! But would you not like the Cheynes or the Leslies invited, Archie? Grace ought to be introduced to some of the best people."

"You may leave Grace to me," returned her brother, somewhat haughtily: "I will take care of her introductions. As for your tea-party, Mattie, I shall be much obliged if you will keep it within its first limits,--just the Challoners and Sir Harry. If any one be asked, it ought to be Noel Frere: he has rather a dull time of it, living alone in lodgings,"--the Rev. Noel Frere being a college chum of Archie's, who had come down to Hadleigh to recruit himself by a month or two of idleness. "Perhaps we had better have him, as there will be so many ladies."

"Oh, yes,--of course! He is so nice and clever," observed Grace, not noticing the shade on Mattie's face. "How pleased you must be to have him staying here so long, Archie!--you two were always such friends."

"He comes nearly every evening," returned Mattie, disconsolately. "He may suit you, Grace, because you are clever yourself; but I am dreadfully afraid of him, he is so dry and sarcastic. Must he really be asked for Tuesday, Archie?"

"Yes, indeed: you ought to have thought of him first. I am sorry for your bad taste, Mattie, if you do not like Frere: he is a splendid fellow, though terribly delicate, I fear. Now, Gracie, if we have finished luncheon, I should like you to put on your wraps, and I will show you some of my favorite haunts; and perhaps we shall meet Frere."