'T will all be well enough when she turns her back on
the church-door an' hears the weddin'-bells a-clashing for her future
joy. Doan't you come nigh her much during the next few weeks."

"Two," corrected Mr. Grimbal, moodily.

"Eh! Awnly two! Well, 't is gert darkness for me, I promise you--gert
darkness comin' for Monks Barton wi'out the butivul sound an' sight of
her no more. But bide away, theer's a gude man; bide away these coming
few days. Her last maiden hours mustn't be all tears. But my gifts do
awnly make her cry, tu, if that's consolation to 'e. It's the
tenderness of her li'l heart as brims awver at kindness."

In reality, Phoebe's misery was of a complexion wholly different. The
necessity for living thus had not appeared so tremendous until she found
herself launched into this sea of terrible deception. In operation such
sustained falsity came like to drive her mad. She could not count the
lies each day brought forth; she was frightened to pray for forgiveness,
knowing every morning must see a renewal of the tragedy. Hell seemed
yawning for her, and the possibility of any ultimate happiness, reached
over this awful road of mendacity and deceit, was more than her
imagination could picture. With loss of self-respect, self-control
likewise threatened to depart. She became physically weak, mentally
hysterical. The strain told terribly on her nature; and Chris mourned to
note a darkness like storm-cloud under her grey eyes, and unwonted
pallor upon her cheek. Dr. Parsons saw Phoebe at this juncture,
prescribed soothing draughts, and ordered rest and repose; but to Chris
the invalid clung, and Mr. Lyddon was not a little puzzled that the
sister of Phoebe's bygone sweetheart should now possess such power to
ease her mind and soothe her troubled nerves.

John Grimbal obeyed the injunction laid upon him and absented himself
from Monks Barton. All was prepared for the ceremony. He had left his
Red House farm and taken rooms for the present at "The Three Crowns."
Hither came his brother to see him four nights before the weddingday.
Martin had promised to be best man, yet a shadow lay between the
brothers, and John, his mind unnaturally jealous and suspicious from the
nature of affairs with Phoebe, sulked of late in a conviction that
Martin had watched his great step with unfraternal indifference and
denied him the enthusiasm and congratulation proper to such an event.

The younger man found his brother scanning a