They seemed to have been parted for months instead of hours, so much had they to say to each other, and so rapidly did they say it.
Rapidly?--feverishly rather. Phyllis had only to remove her hat and smooth her hair at places, disordering it at others, in order to be all right; but half an hour had gone by before they went downstairs, arm in arm, after the manner of girls who have been talking feverishly and kissing every now and again.
It was madness for Phyllis to think of tea at that hour of the night, Ella declared; but she knew Phyllis' fancies in the past--she knew that what would set other girls' nerves in motion, would only have the effect of soothing hers. So Phyllis drank her tea and ate her cake in the drawing room, and Ella lay back on the sofa and watched her with a curious interest in her eyes.
"I am so glad that we are spending together in this way the last night of our delightful week," said Phyllis. "What a lovely week it has been! and the charm of it is, of course, to be found in the fact that it has been stolen from the best part of the season. In another month it would not be nearly so delightful--everyone will be hurrying off to the river or elsewhere."
"Such a week is one of the incidents that a person plans but that rarely comes off according to one's views," said Ella. "I told you when I set my heart upon Hurley what my idea was."
"And you have certainly realized it during this week. What a pity it is that this is our last night together!"
"Do you know, Phyllis, the way you said that suggested to me that you meant 'What a pity it is that Herbert Courtland is not one of our party to-night'!"
Ella was still lying on the broad pillows of the couch, her hands clasped at the back of her head. She was still watching Phyllis through her half-closed eyes.
"I was not thinking about Mr. Courtland in the least when I spoke. How can you fancy that I should be so insincere? I say it is delightful for us, you and me only, mind, to be together to-night, because we can say just whatever occurs to us--I thought we could, you know; but since you made that horrid suggestion I think I must take back all that I said. It is, after all, not nearly so nice to be alone with you as one would imagine."
"That was, I'm afraid, the conclusion that Herbert Courtland came to some time ago," said Ella. "He was alone with me here--yes, for some minutes; but he left me--he left me and found you."
"It was so funny!" cried Phyllis. "Who would have thought of seeing such a figure--bareheaded and in evening dress--on the road? I knew him at once, however. And he was walking so quickly too--walking as if --as if----"
"As if the devil were behind him--that's how men put it," said Ella.
"It would never do for us to say that, of course, but in this particular case we might venture on it for the sake of strict accuracy; the devil was behind him. He escaped from it by the aid of his good angel. Didn't he call you his good angel once, my Phyllis?"
"Yes, he called me so once," said Phyllis. "But why should we talk about Mr. Courtland? Why should we talk about anybody to-night?
Dearest Ella, let us talk about ourselves. You are of more interest to me than anyone in the world, and I know that I am of more interest to you than to anyone else. Let us talk about ourselves."
"Certainly we shall talk about ourselves," said Ella. "To begin, I should like very much to know if you were aware that Herbert had returned to this house after his day or two in town."
Phyllis undoubtedly colored before she said, with a laugh:
"Didn't you promise to talk solely about ourselves? I decline to talk on any other topic."
She arose from where she had been sitting before a cup of tea at a little table that also held cake, and threw herself back in a fanciful seat shaped like a shell.
"That being so, I should like very much to know how you learned that he meant to return," pursued Ella.
"You are becoming quite horrid, and I expected you to be so nice," said Phyllis, pouting very prettily.
"And I expected you to confide in me," said Ella reproachfully. "I have been watching you for some time--not merely during the past week, but long before; and I have seen--what I have seen. He could not have told you that he meant to return--you must have crossed each other in the trains. How did you know, my dear girl? Let me coax it out of you."
Phyllis made no answer for some time; she was examining, with a newly acquired, but very intense interest, the texture of the sheen of the blouse which she was wearing. At last she raised her eyes, and saw how Ella was looking at her. Then she said slowly:
"I saw him in the train that was leaving when our train arrived."
"Heavens! that is a confession!" cried Ella quite merrily.
"You forced it from me," said Phyllis. "But why should there be any mystery between us? I'm sure I may tell you all the secrets of my life. Such as they are, you know them already."
"They are safe in my keeping. My dear Phyllis, don't you know that it has always been my dearest hope to see you and Herbert Courtland--well, interested in each other? I saw that he was interested in you long ago; but I wasn't sure of you. That is just why I was so anxious for you to come down here for the week we have just passed. I wanted to bring you both together. I wanted to see you in love with each other; I wanted to see you both married."
"Ella--Ella!"
"I wanted it, I tell you, not because I loved you, though you know that I love you better than anyone in the world."
"Dearest Ella!"
