ad been. And Mr. Fenwick had a wretched winter. He was
ill--and his painting seemed to go wrong--and he was terribly in need
of money--and then came that day at the theatre--'

'I know,' whispered Phoebe, hanging on the speaker's lips--'when he
saw Carrie?'

'It nearly killed him,' said Eugenie, gently. 'It was like a light
kindled, and then blown out.'

Phoebe leant her head against the table before her, and began to sob--

'If I'd never let her go up that day! When we first landed I didn't
know what to do--I couldn't make up my mind. We'd taken lodgings down
at Guildford--near some acquaintances we'd made in Canada. And
the girl was a great friend of Carrie's--we used to stay with
them sometimes in Montreal. She had acted a little at Halifax and
Montreal--and she wanted an opening in London--and somebody told her
to apply at that theatre--I forget its name.'

'Halifax!' cried Eugenie--'Halifax, Nova Scotia? Oh, now I understand!
We have searched England through. The stage-manager said one of the
young ladies mentioned Halifax. Nobody ever thought--'

She paused. Phoebe said nothing; she was grappling with some of the
new ideas presented to her.

'And this was his second search, you know,' said Eugenie, laying a
hand timidly on Phoebe's shoulder. 'He had done all he could--when
you left him. But when he lost sight of Carrie again--and so of you
both--it wore his heart out. I can see it did. He is a broken man.'
Her voice trembled. 'Oh, you will have to nurse--to comfort him. He
has been in despair about his art--in despair about everything. He--'

But she checked herself. The rest was for him to tell.

'For a long time he seemed so--so--successful,' said Phoebe, plucking
at the tablecloth, trying to compose voice and features.

'Yes--but it didn't last. He seemed to get angry with himself--and
everybody else. He quarrelled with the Academy--and his work didn't
improve--it went back. But then--when one's unhappy--'

Her smile and the pressure of her hand said the rest.

'He'll never forgive me!' said Phoebe, her voice thick and shaking.
'It can never be the same again. I was a fool to come home.'

Eugenie withdrew her hand. Unconsciously, a touch of sternness showed
itself in her bearing, her pale features.

'No, no!'--she said, with energy. 'You will comfort him, Mrs.
Fenwick--you will give him heart and hope again. It was a cruel
thing--forgive me if I say it once!--it was a cruel thing to leave
him!