118 COUSIN PHILLIS.
fingers, — "October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, June, July, — at least we're at tbe 28th, — it is nearly ten months after all, and reckon a month each way off-"
"Did you know of this news before?" said the minister, turning sharp round on me, surprised, I suppose, at my silence, — hardly suspicious, as yet.
"I knew — I had heard — something. It is to a French Canadian young lady," I went on, forcing myself to talk. "Her name is Ventadour."
"Lucille Ventadour!" said Phillis, in a sharp voice, out of tune.
"Then you knew too!" exclaimed the minister.
We both spoke at once. I said, "I heard of the probability of -, and told Phillis." She said, "He is married to Lucille Ventadour, of French descent; one of a large family near St. Meurice; am not I right?" I nodded. "Paul told me, — that is all we know, is not it? Did you see the Howsons, father, in Heathbridge?" and she forced herself to talk more than she had done for several days, asking many questions, tiding, as I could see, to keep the conversation off the one raw surface, on which to touch was agony. I had less self-command; but I followed her lead. I was not so much absorbed in the conversation but what I could see that the minister was puzzled and uneasy; though he seconded Phillis's efforts to prevent her mother from recurring to the great piece of news, and uttering continual exclamations of wonder and sui*prise. But with that one exception we were all disturbed out of our natural equanimity, more or less. Every day, every hour, I was reproaching myself more and more for my
