knowing that she had done nothing unladylike; and fearing lest she should say anything which she would be sorry for afterwards, bit her lips and was silent. The subject dropped, but as Phillis and Mr. Armfield stood by themselves in the drawing-room afterwards, he called her to him, and kissing her kindly, said :

"Phillis, my dear, you are a good child, and have done nothing wrong—nothing at all, but—your aunt and cousins, you see, are fashionable—extremely so—and wish you to do nothing which would cause remark. You will find it best, my dear," and he rubbed his hands uncomfortably, "to yield readily to your aunt's wishes, as you have done to-day; for the sake of peace I never argue.

"I am sure I will try to please uncle," said Phillis to herself, as she followed her cousins to the Esplanade; "I don't think he is very happy. What a funny house this is?"

And as days went on, she did not understand it much better. Mrs. Armfield seemed to make a point of never agreeing with her husband on any subject whatever, and had he not been such a peace-loving man, contentions would have been endless; as it was, it was uncomfortable enough, Phillis thought.

Towards the middle of September Mr. Armfield returned to London, where the rest of the family were to join him in about three weeks' time. Phillis was sorry to lose him, for he was always kind and affectionate to her, and she fancied that his wife and Florence were more cold and haughty towards her than ever after he was gone.

Lord Exmoor left Brighton on the last day of August to repair to Exmoor Castle for the shooting season, with a party of friends, that being the only time of the year which he cared to spend in his own home. Phillis grew very tired of Brighton before their visit was ended; croquet and archery parties and pic-nics were very pleasant sometimes, but when it came to having one or other of them almost every day,

she grew weary of them, and often longed for a little quiet for some of the old Earlesmere rambles, when she had been able to get away out of sight of the village, and enjoy herself in her own fashion. There seemed to be so little sympathy between her and her cousins' friends, with the exception of Judge Laurence; with him she had many a pleasant talk, and he was the only friend whom she felt glad to think she would see again in London during the winter.

The sea was her only regret in leaving Brighton, for it always seemed like an old friend, and she was never tired of watching it; besides, it made her think of Dr. Trevor, and of course that was pleasant. Her favourite place of refuge was a seat at the furthest end of the pier, where she could sit and watch the distant ships, the pleasure boats, and the purple and green shadows which the clouds threw over the water. She went out once for an hour on the sea, but her cousins were not fond of that amusement; they said it made them ill, so poor Phillis watched the pleasureparties setting out on the long bright evenings, with longing eyes, and thought it unkind of Mrs. Armfield not to let her go with Judge Laurence, as he had asked her to do once or twice.

T

CHAPTER XXI.

"I would fly from the city, would fly from its care,
To my own native plants and my flowerets so fair,
To the cool grassy shade and the rivulet bright,
Which reflects the pale moon in its bosom of light."
-MARGARET DAVIDSON.

HE Brighton visit came to an end at last, and Phillis found herself journeying to London with more pleasure than sorrow; she hoped that she might get a little time for practising and study before the winter gaieties came on, of which Julia gave her glowing accounts. She had tried to get on at Earlesmere, and it would never do to forget everything now; but she thought, as the carriage stopped before the door of Mr. Armfield's handsome house in Auriol Square, it would not be so easy to learn there as in the quiet corn-fields or woods at home, where she had spent so many pleasant evenings with her books, disturbed by no sounds but the singing of the birds, and the soft rustling of the trees in the wind. Auriol Square was considered one of the best in London, Julia told her, and was certainly one of the most fashionable. It was there that Lord Exmoor resided, and she pointed out his house on the opposite side of the square.

"I suppose he will come up to London this winter," she

He's a regular

said, "but he doesn't come till November. rover-never stays long in the same place. I shall pity his wife when he gets one," and she glanced mischievously at Florence, who looked haughtily immovable. "My dear Phillis," Julia said as they went upstairs, "I have asked mamma to let me sleep with you. I can't bear to sleep alone, and Flo and I never can agree about the lookingglass; mamma won't get another-I think it is very stingy of her so I am coming into your room instead.

you won't mind?”

Of course

Phillis did mind. It had been so pleasant at Brighton to feel that there was one room in the house where she could be alone for a few minutes, if she liked, and she did not quite fancy having the talkative Julia always with her. For a moment she did not answer, then she said, bravely putting aside her own feelings :

"Yes, you may come, and you may have the looking-glass as much as you like; we won't quarrel about it!"

"Thank you," said Julia, lazily pulling off her gloves; "you see I do get so nervous when I am in a room by myself, and I think Flo and I agree all the better when we don't see quite so much of each other. I won't interfere with you, Phillis; you see the room is big enough for both of us."

It was, certainly; Phillis had never slept in such a large, handsomely-furnished room before, yet she thought with a sigh of the pretty pink room at Earlesmere farm, and wished herself back there many a time before the evening was over. She was down before Julia next morning, and was standing at the window, with rather a disconsolate face, when her cousin entered.

"What's the matter, Phillis?" she said laughing; "don't you like the prospect?"

"No," said Phillis, sorrowfully; "I keep on coming to the window thinking I shall be able to see a long way,

and

then I can only see just as far as those houses opposite. It seems like being in a prison to see nothing but walls all round."

"Poor country Phillis!" said Julia, laughing; "but my dear child, don't you admire these handsome houses? I'm sure they are not in the least like prison-walls; and then there is the garden in the middle, beautifully laid out, everybody says."

"Yes," said Phillis; "but then the houses are all just alike, except that there are more flowers in some windows than in others, and the garden is stiff. I don't like a garden that is quite square, and where all the trees and flowers are in such very proper places."

And poor Phillis rubbed her eyes, as if vainly trying to see something more to her taste.

"Well, what did you expect to see?" asked Julia; "thatched mansions, covered with honeysuckle, and a garden with a blackberry hedge all round, like those in your Earlesmere lanes?"

I'm

"No," said Phillis, laughing; "I knew it would be like this, but that doesn't make me like it any better. glad you don't stay here all the year."

"You'll soon get accustomed to it,' said Julia; "but don't grumble to mamma or Florence, or they will be offended; they think no end of their grand residence."

"Then I may grumble to you as much as I like?" said Phillis, laughing.

"Oh yes!" answered Julia carelessly. "I don't mind; things run off me like water off a duck's back. You can say what you please to me, my dear Phillis, and I will promise not to tell tales."

"Phillis," said Mrs. Armfield at the breakfast table, "I have written to desire Julia's music-master to recommence his lessons to-morrow. You are aware, I dare say, that you are also to learn from him, so you will be ready for