had fallen into quite an unusual silence. Phebe
was looking very sweet and fresh that afternoon. All the care that she
had meant to devote to her toilet upon the occasion of her first meeting
with Halloway, she had expended in dressing herself for this visit to
the rectory. Never had her shining hair been braided so glossily, or
coaxed into waving more prettily about her forehead; never had the
simple etceteras of her dress been more studiously selected and more
carefully put together. Looking in the glass when all was done, she had
been fain to confess that she really did look nice for once, though she
reproached herself immediately afterward in severest terms for the
unpardonable vanity of the thought, and made a little grimace at her own
image to effectually dispel the illusion. What could it ever matter how
she looked? And particularly how could it matter when Gerald was
by,--Gerald, who possessed that rare and enviable gift of always looking
her best? So Phebe put the subject of her looks entirely away from her
mind, and leaned back on the sofa, her hands folded idly in her lap,
feeling perfectly content with the passing moment, and asking nothing
from the future but that it might be always "now." What more could she
want? The room held her three dearest friends in the world,--Gerald,
Soeur Angelique, and Mr. Halloway;--of course one should always put
ladies before gentlemen even only in thought. How handsome Gerald looked
as she stood with her head slightly bent forward, listening to Mrs.
Whittridge. If Gerald did not choose to listen, no one could ever force
her to lend an ear. But when she did so choose, she listened with her
whole mind, and was lost to all else. Phebe smiled with quiet amusement
at her friend's intensity in every thing, and turned with the smile on
her face to Halloway. He was not smiling at all, but he too was looking
fixedly at Gerald.

"It has been lovely having her here, but how we shall miss her, shall we
not, when she goes?" said Phebe, softly.

"Goes?" repeated Halloway, blankly. "It is scarcely September yet."

"What, have you not heard?" exclaimed Phebe. "Do you not know? Gerald has
been sent for. She and Olly go back next Thursday."

"Thursday?" echoed Halloway, in a sort of stunned way. "So soon? Going
for good? Thursday?"

What closely guarded secret did the loving gray eyes, fastened upon him,
read in the swift, uncontrollable look that flashed suddenly across his
face, like t