nsuing. Owen's value
began to rise.

Miss Charlecote did not again bestir herself in the cause, partly from
abstract hatred of waltzes, partly from the constant expectation of
Owen's reappearance, and latterly from being occupied in a discussion
with the excellent mother upon young girls reading novels.

At last, after a _galoppe_, at which Phoebe had looked on with wishful
eyes, Lucilla dropped breathless into the chair which she relinquished to
her.

'Well, Phoebe, how do you like it?'

'Oh! very much,' rather ruefully; 'at least it would be if--'

'If you had any partners, eh, poor child? Hasn't Owen turned up?

'It's that billiard-room; I tried to make Charlie shut it up. But we'll
disinter him; I'll rush in like a sky-rocket, and scatter the gentlemen
to all quarters.'

'No, no, don't!' cried Phoebe, alarmed, and catching hold of her. 'It is
not that, but Robin is gone.'

'Atrocious,' returned Cilly, disconcerted, but resolved that Phoebe
should not perceive it; 'so we are both under a severe infliction,--both
ashamed of our brothers.'

'I am not ashamed of mine,' said Phoebe, in a tone of gravity.

'Ah! there's the truant,' said Lucilla, turning aside. 'Owen, where have
you hidden yourself? I hope you are ready to sink into the earth with
shame at hearing you have rubbed off the bloom from a young lady's first
ball.'

'No! it was not he who did so,' stoutly replied Phoebe.

'Ah! it was all the consequence of the green and white; I told you it was
a sinister omen,' said Owen, chasing away a shade of perplexity from his
brow, and assuming a certain air that Phoebe had never seen before, and
did not like. 'At least you will be merciful, and allow me to retrieve
my character.'

'You had nothing to retrieve,' said Phoebe, in the most straightforward
manner; 'it was very good in you to take care of poor Miss Murrell. What
became of her? Lucy said you would know.'

'I--I?' he exclaimed, so vehemently as to startle her by the fear of
having ignorantly committed some egregious blunder; 'I'm the last person
to know.'

'The last to be seen with the murdered always falls under suspicion,'
said Lucilla.

'Drowned in the fountain?' cried Owen, affecting horror.

'Then you must have done it,' said his sister, 'for when I came back,
after ransacking the house for salts, you had both disappeared. Have you
been washing your hands all this time after the murder?'

'Nothing can clear me but an appeal