nner. Bertha stood up for her
rights, declaring that what mamma and Miss Fennimore allowed, she would
not give up for Juliana; but the only result was an admonition to the
governess, and a fierce remonstrance to the poor meek mother. Phoebe,
who only wished to retire from the stage in peace, had a more difficult
part to play.

'What's the matter now?' demanded Mervyn, making his way up to her as she
sat in a remote corner of the drawing-room, in the evening. 'Why were
you not at dinner?'

'There was no room, I believe.'

'Nonsense! our table dines eight-and-twenty, and there were not twenty.'

'That was a large party, and you know I am not out.'

'You don't look like it in that long-sleeved white affair, and nothing on
your head either. Where are those ivy-leaves you had yesterday--real,
weren't they?'

'They were not liked.'

'Not liked! they were the prettiest things I have seen for a long time.
Acton said they made you look like a nymph--the green suits that shiny
light hair of yours, and makes you like a picture.'

'Yes, they made me look forward and affected.'

'Now who told you that? Has the Fennimore got to her old tricks?'

'Oh no, no!'

'I see! a jealous toad! I heard him telling her that you reminded him of
her in old times. The spiteful vixen! Well, Phoebe, if you cut her out,
I bargain for board and lodging at Acton Manor. This will be no place
for a quiet, meek soul like me!'

Phoebe tried to laugh, but looked distressed, uncomprehending, and far
from wishing to comprehend. She could not escape, for Mervyn had penned
her up, and went on: 'You don't pretend that you don't see how it is!
That unlucky fellow is heartily sick of his bargain, but you see he was
too soft to withstand her throwing herself right at his head, and doing
the "worm in the bud," and the cruel father, green and yellow melancholy,
&c., ever since they were inhumanly parted.'

'For shame, Mervyn. You don't really believe it is all out of honour.'

'I should never have believed a man of his years could be so green; but
some men get crotchets about honour in the army, especially if they get
elderly there.'

'It is very noble, if it be right, and he can take those vows from his
heart,' moralized Phoebe. 'But no, Mervyn, she cannot think so. No
woman could take any one on such terms.'

'Wouldn't she, though?' sneered her brother. 'She'd have him if grim
death were hanging on to his other hand. People aren't p