"This is more than the most exacting of ghosts could reasonable look for," cried Phyllis. "Oh, Ella! I'm so glad that I followed my own impulse and came back to you. I thought you were here all alone--how could I know that Mr. Courtland would return in the meantime to complete his visit?--and when I looked out on the dust and the smoke of the town and thought of this--this--this exquisite stillness,--you can just hear the water of the weir,--this garden, this scent of roses, but chiefly when I thought of you sitting in your loneliness---- Well, is it any wonder that I am here now?--you implored of me to stay, you know, Ella."
"It is no wonder indeed, being what you are--a good angel, my good angel, Phyllis," cried the woman. "Oh, dearest, you are welcome! Why did you leave me Phyllis? Why did you leave me? Oh, the good angels can never be trusted. You should not have left me to myself, dear. I am only a woman. Ah, you don't yet know what a woman is. That is the worst of angels and men; they don't know what a woman is. Come into the house, Phyllis. Come in, Herbert. How did you manage to meet?"
"You know I went out to the garden----" said the man.
"Yes; I knew that--you left me alone," said the woman, and she gave a laugh.
"I strolled from the garden to the road--I had to ask the people at the Old Bell to keep a room for me, of course."
"Of course."
"And just outside the inn I came face to face with Miss Ayrton's fly.
Miss Ayrton was good enough to get out and walk with me, sending the fly on with her maid. I told the man to wait in order to take my portmanteau to the inn. It must be at the hall door now. We entered by the garden gate."
"Nothing could be simpler," said Ella. They had by this time walked up the steps into the drawing room. "Nothing could be simpler." Then she turned to Phyllis. "But how did you contrive to evade the great function to-night?"
"Papa did not feel very well," said Phyllis, "and I know that he was only too glad of an excuse to stay at home."
"And you forsook your sick father to come to me? Oh, my dear Phyllis, what have you done?"
"If you ask me in confidence I should say that papa is not quite so ill as to stand in need of a nurse," she whispered. "Oh, no! Make your mind easy. I have neglected no duty in coming to you."
"Except your duty to yourself; you could not have had time to take any dinner at home. I shall have you a servants' hall supper in ten minutes."
"Please get nothing for me. I had a capital sort of dinner at home.
But I should dearly like a cup of tea."
"It will be ready for you the moment you return from taking off your hat. I'll go up with you to your room; Mr. Courtland knows that even I make myself at home in this house. He will pardon us."
"I mustn't keep the fly waiting for my portmanteau," said Mr. Courtland. "If you will allow me, I shall look to it now, and say good-night."
"What! Oh, you mustn't think of running off in this way," said Ella.
"What reason had you for returning at all if you run off at this hour?"
"It is getting quite late. I mustn't keep the good people of the Old Bell up on my account," said he. "Besides, a man represents a certain inharmonious element upon such an occasion as this. Miss Ayrton returned expecting to be with you alone. I know the disabilities of a man quite well. Yes, I must say good-night."
"Nonsense! Pray talk to him, Phyllis," cried Ella. "You may make him amenable to reason."
But Phyllis stood mute with her hand on the handle of the door; she only smiled, and there is neither reason nor argument in a smile.
"Good-night!" said he.
"Oh, well, if you really have nothing to say to either of us,--to either Phyllis or me,--you had better go, I suppose," said Ella, giving him her hand, but she did not look at him in the face while his hand was touching hers.
Curiously enough, neither did Phyllis look at him as was her wont.
And so he left them that night.
