called her silly child's fancy, stringent measures would be taken, and
she would be exposed to the family censure.

'So,' said Bertha, 'you expect to destroy the attraction of souls by
physical force!'

And Phoebe wrote to Robert a sorrowful letter, chiefly consisting of the
utmost pleadings for Mervyn and Bertha that her loving heart could frame.
She was happier when she had poured out her troubles, but grieved when no
answer came by the next post. Robert's displeasure must be great--and
indeed but too justly so--since all this mischief was the consequence of
the disregard of his wishes. Yet justice was hard between brothers and
sisters, especially when Mervyn was in such a suffering state, threatened
constantly by attacks of his complaint, which were only warded off by
severe and weakening treatment. Phoebe was so necessary to his comfort
in waiting on him, and trying to while away his tedious hours of inaction
and oppression, that she had little time to bestow upon Bertha, nor,
indeed, was talking of any use, as it only gave the young lady an
occasion for pouring forth magniloquent sentiments, utterly heedless of
the answers. Sad, lonely, and helpless were Phoebe's feelings, but she
was patient, and still went on step by step through the strange tangle,
attending to Mervyn hour by hour, always with a gentle cheerful word and
smile, and never trusting herself, even when alone, to think of the
turmoil and break up that must ensue on her guardian's arrival.

All was darkness and perplexity before her, but submission and trust were
her refuge, and each day of waiting before the crisis was to her feelings
a gain.

CHAPTER XXI

O fy gar ride and fy gar rin
And haste ye to find these traitors agen,
For shees be burnt and hees been slein,
The wearifu gaberlunzie man.
Some rade upon horse, some ran afit,
The wife was wud and out of her wit,
She couldna gang, nor yet could she sit,
But aye did curse and ban.--KING JAMES V

Mervyn and Phoebe were playing at billiards, as a means of inducing him
to take exercise enough to make him sleep. The governess and the two
girls were gone to the dentist's at Elverslope. The winter's day was
closing in, when there was a knock at the door, and they beheld Miss
Fennimore, deadly white, and Maria, who flew up to Phoebe,
crying--'Bertha's gone, Phoebe!'

'The next up-train stops at Elverslope at 8.30,' said the governess,
staring i