not hasten with these tidings through the cloisters. She
walked to and fro, pondering them and finding in them a solution of many
difficulties. For Felix it would be well, and it was not to be expected
that Alice would leave her invalid mother to remain behind in England as
a curate's wife. Hilda, too, what could be better or happier for her
than to go with those who looked upon her as a daughter, who would take
Alice's place as soon as she was gone into a home of her own? There was
little to keep them in England. She could not refuse to let them go.

But herself? The strong strain of faithfulness in Phebe's nature knitted
her as closely with the past as with the present; and with some touch of
pathetic clinging to the past which the present cannot possess. She
could not separate herself from it. The little home where she was born,
and the sterile fields surrounding it, with the wide moors encircling
them, were as dear to her as the Abbey was to Canon Pascal. In no other
place did she feel herself so truly at home. If she cut herself adrift
from it and all the subtly woven web of memories belonging to it, she
fancied she might pine away of home-sickness in a foreign land. There
was Mr. Clifford too, who depended so utterly upon her promise to be
near him when he was dying, and to hold his hand in hers as he went
down into the deep chill waters of death. And Jean Merle, whose terrible
secret she shared, and would be the only one to share it when Mr.
Clifford was gone. How was it possible for her to separate herself from
these two? She loved Felix and Hilda with all the might of her unselfish
heart; but Felix had Alice, and by and by Hilda would give herself to
some one who would claim most of her affection. She was not necessary to
either of them. But if she went away she must leave a blank, too dreary
to be thought of, in the clouded lives of Mr. Clifford and poor Merle.
For their sakes she must refuse to leave England.

CHAPTER XXIX.

FAREWELL.

But it was more difficult than Phebe anticipated to resist the urgent
entreaties of Felix and Hilda not to sever the bond that had existed
between them so long. Her devotion to them in the past had made them
feel secure of its continuance, and to quit England, leaving her behind,
seemed impossible. But Mr. Clifford's reiterated supplications that she
would not forsake him in his old age drew her as powerfully the other
way. Scarcely a day passed without a few lines,