modest independence, without effect. She was not one who
invited tyranny, but truly 'queen o'er herself,' she ruled herself too
well to leave the reins loose for others to seize.

The result of the interview had surpassed her hopes, and she had nothing
to regret but her brother's implied purpose of consulting Owen Sandbrook.
Friend of Humfrey though he were, she could not feel secure of his
generosity, and wished the engineer had been the nearer referee; but she
did not say so, as much for shame at her own uncharitableness, as for
fear of rousing Mervyn's distrust; and she was afraid that her
injunctions to secrecy would be disregarded. Fully aware that all would
be in common between the husband and wife, she was still taken by
surprise when Cecily, coming early next day to the Underwood to see
Bertha, took her aside to say, 'Dearest, I hope this is all right, and
for your happiness.'

'You will soon know that it is,' said Phoebe, brightly.

'Only, my dear, it must not be a long engagement. Ah! you think that
nothing now, but I could not bear to think that _you_ were to go through
a long attachment.'

Was this forgiving Cecily really fancying that her sorrows had been
nothing worse than those incidental to a long attachment?

'Ah!' thought Phoebe, 'if she could ever have felt the full reliance on
which I can venture, she need never have drooped! What is time to
trust?'

Mervyn kept his word, and waiving ceremony, took his wife at once to the
Holt, and leaving her with Miss Charlecote, made a visit to Owen in the
study, wishing, in the first place, to satisfy himself of the young man's
competence to reply to his questions. On this he had no doubt; Owen had
made steady progress ever since he had been in England, and especially
during the quiet time that had succeeded his sister's marriage. His
mental powers had fully regained their keenness and balance, and though
still incapable of sustained exertion of his faculties, he could talk as
well as ever, and the first ten minutes convinced Mervyn that he was
conversing with a shrewd sensible observer, who had seen a good deal of
life, and of the world. He then led to the question about young Randolf,
endeavouring so to frame it as not to betray the occasion of it.

The reply fully confirmed all that Phoebe had averred. The single
efforts of a mere youth, not eighteen at the time of his father's
failure, without capital, and set down in a wild uncleared part of