ointed. They thought
eagerness for musical service almost necessarily went with church
feeling; and Phoebe was the least in the world out of favour for the
confession, that though it was well that choirs should offer the most
exquisite and ornate praise, yet that her own country-bred associations
with the plain unadorned service at Hiltonbury rendered her more at home
where the prayers were read, and the responses congregational, not
choral. To her it was more devotional, though she fully believed that
the other way was the best for those who had begun with it.

So they went as usual to the full service of the parish church, where the
customs were scrupulously rubrical without being ornate. The rest and
calm of that Sunday were a boon, coming as they did after a bustling
week.

All the ensuing days Phoebe was going about choosing curtains and
carpets, or hiring servants for herself or Mervyn. She was obliged to
act alone, for Miss Charlecote, on whom she had relied for aid, was
engrossed in attending on Owen, and endeavouring to wile away the hours
that hung heavily on one incapable of employment or even attention for
more than a few minutes together. So constantly were Honor and Lucy
engaged with him, that Phoebe hardly saw them morning, noon, or night;
and after being out for many hours, it generally fell to her lot to
entertain the young Canadian for the chief part of the evening. Mr.
Currie had arrived in town on the Monday, and came at once to see Owen.
His lodgings were in the City, where he would be occupied for some time
in more formally mapping out and reporting on the various lines proposed
for the G. O. and S. line; and finding how necessary young Randolf still
was to the invalid, he willingly agreed to the proposal that while Miss
Charlecote continued in London, the young man should continue to sleep
and spend his evenings in Woolstone-lane.

CHAPTER XXIX

Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it?
Have you marked but the fall of the snow,
Before the soil hath smutched it?--BEN JONSON

At the end of a week Mervyn made his appearance in a vehement hurry.
Cecily's next sister, an officer's wife, was coming home with two little
children, for a farewell visit before going to the Cape, and Maria and
Bertha must make way for her. So he wanted to take Phoebe home that
afternoon to get the Underwood ready for them.

'Mervyn, how can I go? I am