CHAPTER II.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 8156, 2 November 1904, Page 4

CHAPTER 11.

H« was still rery much the artist when he rose in the grey dawn next morning, and superintended the packing of the precious picture. Every now and then, as ne dressed, a conviction came to nin> that yesterday had not been quite «b other yesterdays, and that there had particularly pleasant about that twilight hour he had Vnt with Ph«be, but^hen he tried to fix and analyse the «*n«ation, it eluded him. That he had asked her to,. be his wife, he would have regarded as a ridiculous suggestion, for the whole seen* had faded from his mind as entirely. as th* dead ashes ofhwt night's fire had disappeared from the grate. He felt annoyed that, with his usual stupidity, he had forgotten to bid her a definite good-bye, but there was no particular reason why ne should have done so! They would meet agaS before ldng, in the »»tm the picture must be finished, and he had dreams of spending the winter m some out of the way Cornish village, where he intended to make studies of a «tonjj». Lady Middleton was really sorry to a* the last of him, and she confided her m»irivinff to her daughter. • , ?«lfe is so feckless, Phoebe, and thri^delicious manner is so unsurbed to , this a world, that I always expect to hear to£"f_£»s translated to a more aPP£W£. or has fallen over a chff wh^,.f m ™* studying the stars. He went off this morn£g && Benin%, with tny. garden ha*in his hand, and his own hanging on the pegs capable of putting, it on, «J™jW Q J up Piccadilly ; it makes me hot to think of was staring blankly at her .mother. . «Do you mean to say be has gone? she said : 'Why didn't someone tell me? I week! I thought you knew My dear child, don't stare at nothing in that ghastly way. I declare your eyes are getting exPI -s£ had put on a pale blue gown, and had stolen a late rose from_the conse rjatory to add to the effect. Phcebe had had no previous, love, affair by which tp gauge her feelings, and the sudden rebuff seemed Hke a slight. . She was distinctly, conscious that no one need, know of it but herself- She did not realise the tell-tale of her face, or that her mother was looking at her curiously. She roused herself to force * stiff smile. "I am so disappointed," she said, stumbling a little over the words .1 wanted to see my lovely picture again. Of course, I was told, but that was ages ago. Ha had not mentioned it for days. . 1 thought he had forgotten he waygoing. I " And very naturally, dearest, said her mother. "He would, forget his °wn_ head if a beneficent Providence had not screwed it on. However we mustn t destroy our nerves, whatever happens,, and J^Jj*^ been made for apes ! You must write^ to the poor ihW and give mm a piece of your mind— it will do him good. Phoebe sat eating her breakfast with a visible effort, in the silence that followed. Then she spoke with a nervous laugh. ••Mammy, you don't think of him as you speak, -do you?" t ;He isnt a poor thine' just to be pitied? . Lady Middleton gave a shrewd gjance at her daughter from behind the urn. "No Phcebe," she said, seriously ; "heaven forbid I should scoff at genm«, or class myself with the illustrious company. Heis a flight above us, my dearest but I fancy the finer, air he breathes is cold." . /£l. . fJ Yes, mother^ , ' . "He is rather lovable, Phcebe, and rather dangerous." ,_,.,, , Again that quick look, but Phasbe, sr colour had faded,, and she met her mothers eves calmly. .■■■'■ r< 'I only wanted to be sure you appreciated him, mother; now I am satisfied. But the slow autumn days passed he did not write— not one word canie from the great Babylon, either of love of ambition, or hope, and Phoebe's own hopes died with. the dying year, it made no outward differenoe-^she was just as pretty, just as charming— but her faith in human nature was never quite so strong again. In the next few mouths she went through all the gamut of feeling, and, at every stage, life seemed a little duller, and less successful. She maddened herself making every possible excuse- for him, but she only seiemed to plunge into deeper mystery, and was wounded, angry and miserable by turns. ; At the end. of six months of absolute silence she formed an hypothesis for herself, which was convincing, \i not satisfactory. She imagined that w,hafc' h* had said was said on a sudden impulse, regretted a B soon as spoken-^that, . in the scheme of his life, there was no plar« for love j and, if he had loved unwisely, he had found it quite easy fyfeeak the light chain that bound him. He had chosen this way of teaching her, hoping it would hurt the least. "But it was a. cruel way," she said ui*der her breath, whilst the passionate tears lay hot upon her cheek.