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Many precious minutes were lost while he tarried, unable to tear himself away. Phyllis held to her resolve, though it coat her many a bitter pang. At last they parted, and he went down the hill. Before his footsteps had quite died away, she felt a desire to behold at least his outline once more, and running noiselessly after him, regained view of his diminishing figure. Fer one moment she was sufficiently excited to be on the point of rushing forward and linking her fate with his. But she could not. The courage which at the critical instant failed Cleopatra of Egypt could scarcely be expected of Phyilis Grove.

A dark shape, similar to his own, joined him in the highway. It was Christoph, his friend. She could see no more; they had hastened on in the direction of the harbor four miles ahead. With a feeling akin to despair she turned and slowly pursued her way homeward.

Tattoo sounded in the camp; but there was no camp for her now. It was as dead as the camp of the Aw syrians after the passage of the Destroying Angel.

She noiselessly entered the house, seeing nobody, and went to bed. Grief, which kept her awake at first, ultimately wrapped her in a heavy sleep. The next morning her father met her at the foot of the stairs.

“Mr. Gould ia come!” he said, triumphantly.

Humphrey was staying at the inn, and had slready called to inquire for her. He had brought her a present of a very handsome looking-glass in a frame of repoussé silverwork, which her father held in his hand, He had promised to call again in the course of an hour, to ask Phyllis to walk with him.

Pretty mirrors were rarer in country-houses at that day than they are now, and the one befora her won Phyllis’s admiration, She looked into it, saw how