COUSIN PHILLIS. 83
nosegay that lie had brought away from the Hope Farm, and had laid on the mantel-piece on first coming into the room. He smelt at it, and caressed it with his lips.
"What grieves mo is that I did not know — that I have not said good-by to — to them."
He spoke in a grave tone, the shadow of the coming separation falling upon him at last.
"I will tell them," said I. "I am sure they will be very sorry." Then we were silent.
"I never liked any family so much."
"I knew you would like them."
"How one's thoughts change, — this morning I was full of a hope, Paul." He paused, and then he said, —
"You put that sketch in carefully?"
" hat outline of a head?" asked I. But I knew he meant an abortive sketch of Phillis, which had not been successful enough for him to complete it with shading or colouring.
"Yes. What a sweet innocent face it is! and yet so — Oh, dear!"
He sighed and got up, his hands in his pockets, to walk up and down the room in evident disturbance of mind. He suddenly stopped opposite to me.
"You'll tell them how it all was. Be sure and tell the good minister that I was so sorry not to wish him good-by, and to thank him and his wife for all their kindness. As for Phillis, — please God in two years I'll be back and tell her myself all in my heart."
"ou love Phillis, then?" said I.
"Love her! — Yes, that I do. Who could help it, seeing her as I have done? Her character as unusual and rare as her beauty! God bless her! God keep
