Phyllis of Philistia Part 38

But she was spared.

After a time she found strength to rise. She seemed surprised to find that the room was in darkness. She struck a light, and in a few minutes a dozen candles were flaring round the walls; and then she went mechanically to close the window. One side she had just fastened when it seemed to her that she heard the sound of voices approaching. She listened, her head bent forward through the side of the window that remained unclosed.

Yes, their voices were sounding clearly through the still night--his voice and--what trick was being played upon her by her hearing? Phyllis'

voice? How could it be Phyllis' voice? Phyllis had returned to London.

Oh, it was some trick! Her nerves were playing some trick upon her--they were out of order, they were beyond her control. Phyllis' voice----Great Heavens! it was Phyllis herself who was walking through the garden by his side!

Ella stood at the open side of the window staring out at them. They stood at the foot of the half dozen steps that lead up to the window.

Phyllis laughed,--was there a trace of mockery in her laugh?--but he was silent.

"I don't wonder at your fancying that I am a ghost, Ella," cried the girl. "I feel that I deserve to be treated as discourteously as most poor ghosts are treated when they visit their friends. You never yet heard of a ghost being asked to stay to dinner, did you, Mr. Courtland?

But a ghost may fairly claim to be asked to enter the house of her dearest friend, especially after a double railway journey."

Ella had not moved from her place at the open s.p.a.ce of the window while Phyllis was speaking, but the moment that the girl's laugh sounded, she too laughed. She ran down the steps and put her arms about Phyllis, kissing her on the face.

"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.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

GIVE HIM BACK TO ME--GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!

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."