I do
nothing of the kind. I am not blighted at all. My damask cheek is not
going to be preyed upon, nor shall I take to an excess of tobacco and
poetry. I have made a mistake, but I mean to sing over it,--not weep over
it,--and to become a stronger and better man, if possible, for having
been so weak a one."

"And Phebe?" said Soeur Angelique. Great tears stood in her eyes.
"I hoped--"

Denham placed both hands on his sister's shoulders. "Soeur Angelique, you
must bury those hopes in the grave. Loving Gerald Vernor, never, now, or
in the future, shall I have one word of love for any other woman. But for
her, I should have come perhaps to love Phebe with this same love;
perhaps,--who knows?--Phebe might so have loved me. As it is--Soeur
Angelique you know what I am. You know if I am likely to deceive myself.
Gerald Vernor has changed my life for always. What might have been, now
can never be."

He stood still a moment, looking full at her. It was wonderful how
resolute and firm and yet brave and gentle too those merry brown eyes of
his could become. Soeur Angelique sighed and shook her head softly. He
stooped and kissed her, then turned away saying: "Now that chapter has
been read through to the end. Woe be to him who turns back the page! And
it is time I went to call on poor Widow Brown."

Soeur Angelique stood in the window as a moment later he passed by. He
kissed his hand to her with a gay smile and went on. But she still stood
there with the tears welling and welling in her eyes till they fell
gently over upon her cheeks. She did not heed them, she was so busy with
her thoughts. "Poor Phebe," she said softly to herself. "My poor little
Phebe! But perhaps,--with time--"

CHAPTER XIV.

PHEBE'S GOOD-BY.

When was it Phebe first fell ill? No one knew. Mr. Hardcastle had kept
cautiously out of her way this long time past, but nobody else suspected
that the brilliant cheeks and eyes which shone like stars were telltales
of a hidden fire burning her life away. The fever was abating in the
village. The doctors declared the epidemic virtually over, and mutually
congratulated each other upon the success of their measures. Mr.
Hardcastle returned to the sidewalks; Mr. Upjohn brought back Maria; Miss
Lydia said death had spared her this once, but next time it would be her
turn to go; Mrs. Lane said she needn't make her will yet for all that;
and everybody said how very much worse the fever would have been in an