ich he complied.'

'He is _very_ kind to Maria,' said Phoebe.

'He seems to have that sort of pitying respect which you first put into
my mind towards her.'

'Oh, are you come home, Phoebe?' said Maria, running into the room. 'I
did not hear you. I have been sliding on the ice all the afternoon with
Mr. Randolf. It is so nice, and he says we will do it again to-morrow.'

'Ha, Phoebe!' said Bertha, meeting her on the stairs, 'do you know what
you missed?'

'Three children sliding on the ice,' quoted Phoebe.

'Seeing how a man that is called Humfrey can bear with your two sisters
making themselves ridiculous. Really I should set the backwoods down as
the best school of courtesy, but that I believe some people have that
school within themselves. Hollo!'

For Phoebe absolutely kissed Bertha as she went up-stairs.

'Ha?' said Bertha, interrogatively; then went into the drawing-room, and
looked very grave, almost sad.

Phoebe could not but think it rather hard when, on the last afternoon of
Humfrey Randolf's visit, there came a note from Mervyn ordering her up to
Beauchamp to arrange some special contrivances of his for Cecily's
morning-room--her mother's, which gave it an additional pang. It was a
severe, threatening, bitterly cold day, not at all fit for sliding, even
had not both the young ladies and Miss Fennimore picked up a suspicion of
cold; but Phoebe had no doubt that there would be a farewell visit, and
did not like to lose it.

'Take the pony carriage, and you will get home faster,' said Bertha,
answering what was unspoken.

No; the groom sent in word that the ponies were gone to be rough-shod,
and that one of them had a cold.

'Never mind,' said Phoebe, cheerfully; 'I shall be warmer walking.'

And she set off, with a lingering will, but a step brisk under her
determination that her personal wishes should never make her neglect duty
or kindness. She did not like to think that he would be disappointed,
but she had a great trust in _his_ trust in herself, and a confidence,
not to be fretted away, that some farewell would come to pass, and that
she should know when to look for him again.

Scanty sleety flakes of snow were falling before her half-hour's walk was
over, and she arrived at the house, where anxious maids were putting
their last touches of preparation for the mistress. It was strange not
to feel more strongly the pang of a lost home; and had not Phoebe been so
much preoccupied, per