'

'I'll tell you what, Phoebe,' cried Honora, radiantly, 'you and I will go
too! You shall come with me to Woolstone-lane, and Robin shall be with
us every day; and we will try and make this silly Lucy into a rational
being.'

'Oh! Miss Charlecote, thank you--thank you.' The quiet girl's face and
neck were all one crimson glow of delight.

'If you can sleep in a little brown cupboard of a room in the very core
of the City's heart.'

'Delightful! I have so wished to see that house. Owen has told me such
things about it. Oh, thank you, Miss Charlecote!'

'Have you ever seen anything in London?'

'Never. We hardly ever go with the rest; and if we do, we only walk in
the square. What a holiday it will be!'

'We will see everything, and do it justice. I'll get an order for the
print-room at the British Museum. I day say Robin never saw it either;
and what a treat it will be to take you to the Egyptian Gallery!' cried
Honora, excited into looking at the expedition in the light of a party of
pleasure, as she saw happiness beaming in the young face opposite.

They built up their schemes in the open window, pausing to listen to the
nightingales, who, having ceased for two hours, apparently for supper,
were now in full song, echoing each other in all the woods of Hiltonbury,
casting over it a network of sweet melody. Honora was inclined to regret
leaving them in their glory; but Phoebe, with the world before her, was
too honest to profess poetry which she did not feel. Nightingales were
all very well in their place, but the first real sight of London was
more.

The lamp came in, and Phoebe held out her hands for something to do, and
was instantly provided with a child's frock, while Miss Charlecote read
to her one of Fouque's shorter tales by way of supplying the element of
chivalrous imagination which was wanting in the Beauchamp system of
education.

So warm was the evening, that the window remained open, until Ponto
erected his crest as a footfall came steadily along, nearer and nearer.
Uplifting one of his pendant lips, he gave a low growl through his
blunted teeth, and listened again; but apparently satisfied that the step
was familiar, he replaced his head on his crossed paws, and presently
Robert Fulmort's head and the upper part of his person, in correct
evening costume, were thrust in at the window, the moonlight making his
face look very white, as he said, 'Come, Phoebe, make haste; it is very
l