e that Reginald, in so
many ways Clarence's superior, was at her disposal, a sense of
gratification went through Phoebe's mind, and it certainly occurred to
her that the feeling he might inspire would be a warmer and a more
delightful one than that which would fall to Clarence Copperhead; but
she was not tempted thereby to throw Clarence off for the other. No, she
was pleased, and not unwilling to expend a little tender regret and
gratitude upon poor Reginald. She was ready to be "kind" to him, though
every woman knows that is the last thing she ought to be to a rejected
lover; and she was full of sympathy for the disappointment which,
nevertheless, she fully intended was to be his lot. This seems
paradoxical, but it is no more paradoxical than human creatures
generally are. On this particular evening her heart beat very high on
account of Clarence, to know if he would have strength of mind to hold
his own against his father, and if he would come back to her and ask
her, as she felt certain he meant to do, that one momentous question.
Her heart would not have been broken had he not done so, but still she
would have been disappointed. Notwithstanding when the evening came, the
absence of Clarence was a relief to Phoebe as well as to the rest of the
party, and she gave herself up to the pleasures of a few hours of
half-tender intercourse with Reginald, with a sense of enjoyment such as
she seldom felt. This was very wrong, there is no denying it, but still
so it was. She was anxious that Clarence should come back to her, and
ask her to be his wife; and yet she was pleased to be rid of Clarence,
and to give her whole attention and sympathy to Reginald, trying her
best to please him. It was very wrong; and yet such things have happened
before, and will again; and are as natural, perhaps, as the more
absolute and unwavering passion which has no doubt of its object,
passion like Northcote's, who had neither eyes nor ears for anything but
Ursula. The four were alone together that evening, and enjoyed it
thoroughly. Clarence was away, who, to all but Phoebe, was an
interruption of their intercourse; and Mr. May was away in his study,
too much absorbed to think of any duties that ought to have devolved
upon him as chaperon; and even Janey was out of the way, taking tea with
Mrs. Hurst. So the two young pairs sat round the table and talked; the
girls, with a mutual panic, which neither breathed to the other, keeping
together, avoi