to the fountain,' said Owen; 'will
you come and look in, Phoebe? It is more delicious than ever.'

But Phoebe had had enough of the moonlight, did not relish the subject,
and was not pleased with Owen's manner; so she refused by a most decided
'No, thank you,' causing Lucy to laugh at her for thinking Owen
dangerous.

'At least you will vouchsafe to trust yourself with me for the Lancers,'
said Owen, as Cilla's partner came to claim her, and Phoebe rejoiced in
anything to change the tone of the conversation; still, however, asking,
as he led her off, what had become of the poor schoolmistress.

'Gone home, very sensibly,' said Owen; 'if she is wise she will know how
to trust to Cilly's invitations! People that do everything at once never
do anything well. It is quite a rest to turn to any one like you,
Phoebe, who are content with one thing at a time! I wish--'

'Well, then, let us dance,' said Phoebe, abruptly; 'I can't do that well
enough to talk too.'

It was not that Owen had not said the like things to her many times
before; it was his eagerness and fervour that gave her an uncomfortable
feeling. She was not sure that he was not laughing at her by putting on
these devoted airs, and she felt herself grown up enough to put an end to
being treated as a child. He made her a profound bow in a mockery of
acquiescence, and preserved absolute silence during the first figures,
but she caught his eye several times gazing on her with looks such as
another might have interpreted into mingled regret and admiration, but
which were to her simply discomfiting and disagreeable, and when he spoke
again, it was not in banter, but half in sadness. 'Phoebe, how do you
like all this?'

'I think I could like it very much.'

'I am almost sorry to hear you say so; anything that should tend to make
you resemble others is detestable.'

'I should be very sorry not to be like other people.'

'Phoebe, you do not know how much of the pleasure of my life would be
lost if you were to become a mere conventional young lady.'

Phoebe had no notion of being the pleasure of any one's life except
Robin's and Maria's, and was rather affronted that Owen should profess to
enjoy her childish ignorance and _naivete_.

'I believe,' she said, 'I was rude just now when I told you not to talk.
I am sorry for it; I shall know better next time.'

'Your knowing better is exactly what I deprecate. But there it is;
unconsciousness is the charm