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"When may I expect an answer, Phyllis?" he said at length. "You know why my question has been so long delayed. I shall not attempt to excuse myself. I have been very, very foolish. But to-day I am very, very wise. May I also be very, very happy?" He had taken her hands in his, and as she did not resist he drew her gently to him. "Little Willie christened me The Man-on-the-Hill," he whispered.
De Guenther only a little more precise than his every-day habit was, Mrs. De Guenther crying a little, softly and furtively. As for Allan Harrington, he lay just as she had seen him that other time, white and moveless, seeming scarcely conscious except by an effort. Only she noticed a slight contraction, as of pain, between his brows. "Phyllis has come," panted Mrs. Harrington.
I have taught her where to look for the beautiful things of life. She has belonged to me in all ways, save one. I am a poor, helpless creature now, George, but, by the gods, I will let no one rob me of my one holy compensation. She is the girl I love; the better part of myself." "Phyllis Poynton may be all these things to you," Duncombe answered. "I do not know her. I do not recognize her.
A man who has sat at the feet of the philosophers from Ovid to Schopenhauer, and has gorged his intellect with the abstract principles of love, naturally adapts himself to the professorial capacity, and I soon saw that Phyllis, while one of the most lovable, one of the sweetest of girls, was almost wholly ignorant of the psychology of passion.
"Yes, yes, to be sure, dear me, good-by, young lady I " She was indeed flustered, and Phyllis could hardly repress a smile, for Miss Pringle's hat was well over one ear, and the dotted veil that should have covered her face was whipping itself into ribbons off the back of her head. "But you haven't told me what you are doing down here?" Phyllis insisted. Miss Pringle looked really troubled.
Mr. van Buren told us," exclaimed Phyllis, and ended up her sentence with a stifled shriek which could have meant nothing but a surreptitious pinch. I would not have glanced at either of the girls for anything; but I would have given something to know how Nell was looking. "Have you any more belongings here?" asked the Chaperon, gaily.
"No one will prize them more. When did you see Phyllis?" "A month ago. She is well and happy. John is a member of the Legislature this year. He seems to vibrate between the Senate and the frontier. He is a fine fellow, and they are doing well." Then they fell into talking of Texas and of the disastrous Santa Fe expedition; and Harry listened with blazing eyes to the tale of cruelty and wrong.
"But it's rather far from the water's edge," objected Leslie. "Oh, no, indeed! Why in winter the surf often comes up right under the bungalows!" remarked Phyllis, in quite an offhanded way. "Mercy! Don't ever tell Aunt Marcia that, or she'd go straight home!" exclaimed Leslie. "But isn't it queer that it just happened to be right in front of Curlew's Nest!
I think something fell and struck me on the head." "Don't talk any more, please, dear," entreated Phyllis. "You can tell us all about what happened when you have rested a little longer. You are very tired." The sick girl dozed again. Phyllis and Madge slipped their aching arms out from under their patient's pillow. "Mollie's memory has come back to her, hasn't it?"
She had put her head down to Phyllis' bare neck and was looking up to her face as a child might have done. "There is no danger here. Now pet me, and say that you forgive me for having said whatever I did say." Phyllis laughed and put her lips down among the myriad diamonds that glowed amid the other's hair, like stars seen among the thick foliage of a copper beech.
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