CHAPTER IV.

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

CHAPTER IV.

Half an hour later, Phoebe came in to breakfast', wearing a bright face, and the discarded grey frock, that had hung in her wardrobe for nearly six months, to the despair of her maid. As she turned the handle, she confronted Lady Middle-. ton standing, with a pale face and agitated demeanour, just on the threshold. She caught at Phoebe's hand, holding her a* arm's length, and passed a tender hand over •her 'hair. The girl stared at her in utter amazement. "Mother," she said, giving

her a little shake, " what is the nratter? the water is running out of tie urn ; it will run over the carpet. Let me turn \it off first, and we will be tragic afterwards." t " But', dearest," said the poor lady, . in a shaking voice, "they told me tflbat you hati had an accident, and that you were severely injured, and had gone straight to your room. And here you a<re, witßout at Done broken." Phoebe's surprised stare softened,' and her lips curved into rather shamefaced laughter. ."I have actually forgotten," she said. " Mother, darling, it is quite true— Tommy did run 'away." "Forgotten," breathed Lady Middletaa tragically. ; " Mr Erie U back," said Phoebe, in a hurrieid voice. " Yes, come amd> have breakfast ; and I hear the new picture is wonderful. 'The Shadow of Ourselves' he calls it :" , "1 met him this morning.'* " Ah," said Lady Middleton, and she looked quickly at the "blue dresw. v " I had no idea he rode so well. He helped me witlh Tommy. I think he saved my life." " My dear, don't be hysterical," said 1 her mother. " No. darling ; not- now." Far tine first time in his life Mr Erie found it difficult to settle to his work. H« made a hundred excuses to himself far his indolence, but the way Phoebe's face came between him and his canvas grew, at, last, to be positively maddening. After that j morning in the park, " The Shadow of Ourj salves" came to a standstill, apd every few ; days the great artist, founds it necessary to i present himself in Grosvenor Gardens, just I to verify some trifling fact about PJlreWs looks. • Lady Middleton was in despair. " He means nothing," she said in turn to all hhre r intimate friends, " and 1 yet he compromises my poor Phcebe — amd he keeps other men away ! Care for fcim.? Of oourss B(he does ; that is tihe worst of it. One cannot explain one's worldJy views to a girl." Not to such as Phcebe, at least. Her colour had come back, and her ihigih spirits. Never had there been such » eea«on ! She heard so much of 'the great picture— she had even stood in the untidy studio, and looked round her with a sort of awe, feeling ■ almost afrad'd of the genius that breathed from the great canvas; adding her little mite of criticism to the war of the gode that, raged round it. But after that visit she went home dull and cold ; as Lady [Middlleton had said, tihe mountain tops were chilly, and difficult of access. Next day, Erie stood- again upon tihe steps of tiie house in Grosvemor Gardens, and faced 1 the importaml- butler who opened the door. " Lady . Middleton at home?" "Her ie&yshipris uot." •'Miss VliJdleton?" " She is/afc home, sir." Mr Erie traa nervpus. ?*rk©r was> aannpT ed, but respposi ' ~- : ! " : "I should like .'to s^he*.", " Miss Middleton is in the library, sir. I was to take tea there at five." ' Parker gently but firmly relieved him ofhis hat and stk'k, and laid them on the hall table. Then he preceded him down the ample passage, and flung open a door at the end. ' "Mr Erie, miss." The door shut, leaving the artisb inside, and Parker smiling on the mat.- --' "Her ladyship don't seem to notice nothing," he said to himself, "but I've been that way myself, many's the timer^and there's some gentlemen .as wants a bit of a heft. I'll take up the tea now, and leave them to theirselves, till her ladyship comes in." - Phcebe was sitting in the bright light of the open window, with & book face downwards on her knee. She did not rise, or even look up, until Parker's respectful voice startled her." . : „ "Mr Erie, miss. I mentioned that her ladyship was not at home." In a minute Phoebe had slipped to hen feet. ■ •• . „.■•' ..-.*.• "How nice of you to come-T-I made sure you were the tea. " There was no dreaminess in Mr Erie's eyes as they rested on. Phoebe, end no indecision in his step. He knelt with one knee on the window 6eat beside her, and looked over the hedge of coloured roses. " The picture wouldn't go, Miss Middleton, so I turned its face to the wall, and came here for inspiration!" "The shadow of ourselves," said Phcebe, smiling. The colour still flushed into her cheeks in a tiresome way, when she remembered. that day last autumn, and as she lifted her face now, she found the artist's earnest eyes watching her. He was looking at her in a puzzled way, and he spoke on an impulse, "When you -wear that colour in your face, you remind me of something—but I cannot remember what — it always just escapes me." "Perhaps it reminds yon of my picture; I wore thin dress when you painted me." His kind eyes lightened, and lost their perplexed look. "Perhaps," he said. "It is something pleasant, I am' sure." " " And here is tea," said Phcebe, cheerfully. ■ Parker seemed to make a great deal of unnecessary noise at the door, but his intentions were excellent, and he was disappointed when he recognised in one keen glance round, that Miss Phoebe was not in the least agitated. She sat on the window seat, whilst he arranged the tea, end then she walked over to the table, and began to pour it out. Mr Erie leant bacfc in a large arm-chair and watched her. ' "And they won't have above another

! quarter of an hour," Parker said anxiously to himself, as he took a parting look round. "Really some gentlemen has next to no i sense." ■ , . ! After he had gone Mr Erie sat looking at i Phcefoe silently. The sunlight stained her I hair and the straight folds of her grey dress. As she came towards him, with the cup in her hand, he had an indistinct feeling that somewhere, in some other U-e, he had seen her thus before. Soltly, like the wings of a bird, her hand brushed his sleeve as she leant over him. and, at the touch, some dim memory awoke and transfigured him. He was no longer a great painter, but a man who was letting his ambition slip from him, and was making a. desperate bid for happiness. \ He rose suddenly, and took her unresisting hand in his. . "My dear," 'he said, in the odd rough voice, that had been ringing in her ears for six long months, "I am such a fool that I do not erven know how toBut Phoebe's voice arrested him. "Oh, no, no. no," she said, half -sobbing, "don't' say it again— not in the same ■words." "Phcebe!" He had tightened hw hold on her hand, and held her closer, but Phoebe's face was hidden on his sleeve. '*'T couldn't bear it, came the stifled ory. " Say something different, or I shall think it is a dreadful dream;" n ■ . He was holding her very tenderly, and one hand touched her hair, but there was that old perplexed look in hi* brown «ye». " " Dear, I hare never said those words to any woman ! I had never dreamed of marrying -until to-day, but I cannot live without you." Phtßbe raised a. brigrht flushed face and spoke incoherently. "You said them to me once, months ago — the day yon finished mv picture." ""Phcebe, it can't be possible!" "Yea it is," said Phcebe. tearfully. "I thought you were sorry afterwardsf and it made me miserable, and them I met you again, and I saw you had only— forgotten. " There, was a moment's breathless «!enoe, and then Mr Erie spoke regretfully : "I had— forgotten." "Well?" said Phoßbe, after another silent muMif*. • "I am so sorry,, darling," he said with a quick laugh, " but even now I can't, for the life of me, re-member what your answer was." " I said ' Yes,' " said Phcebe. ' ■■: '■■ " Will you forgive • me, and say ' Yes ' again}" " If there is anything to forgive I have forgotten it," said Phcebe. " You have only given me a double pleasure." " Wo must not let him out of our sigh* urotil you are married, dearest," Lady Middleton said when Phosbe told her of the engagement., "and we must fix on' a best man of great physical strength, and. with all his wits about him; there axe so many possible tragedies in the wedding service. I think, otherwise, he is pretty safe. He could hardily forget that he had proposed to you." ' . Phoebe looked demurely at her mother, boat she held her tongue. , . . .