"Oh, I daresay!" replied Phillis, crossly, for the poor thing was so hot and tired that she could have cried from pure weariness and vexation of spirit: "but we shall not be the fashion long when the novelty wears off; people will call us independent, and get tired of us; and no wonder, if they are to wait for their dresses in this way."
Nan's only answer was to look at Phillis's pale face in a pitying way; and then she took her hand, and led her to the corner, where her mother's Bible always lay, and then with ready fingers turned to the well known-passage, "Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labor unto the evening."
"Evening is for rest,--for refreshment of mind and body: I will not have it turned into a time of toil. I know you, Phillis; you would work till your poor fingers got thin, and your spirits were all flattened out, and every nerve was jarring and set on edge; and you would call that duty! No, darling,--never! Dulce shall keep her roses, and we will have battledore and shuttlecock every evening; but, if I have to keep the key of the work-room in my pocket, you and Dulce shall never enter it after tea." And Nan's good sense, as usual, carried the day.
Phillis would much rather have joined her sisters in their walk than have turned in at the gloomy lodge-gates.
"'All ye who enter here, leave hope behind,'"
she quoted, softly, as she waved her hand to Nan.
The servant who admitted her looked a little dubious over his errand.
"His mistress was in her room," he believed, "and was far too unwell to see visitors. He would tell Miss Mewlstone, if the young lady liked to wait; but he was sure it was no use,"--all very civilly said. And as Phillis persisted in her intention of seeing Mrs. Cheyne, if possible, he ushered her into the library, a gloomy-looking room, with closed blinds, one of which he drew up, and then went in search of Miss Mewlstone.
Phillis did not find her surroundings particularly cheerful. The air was darkened by the approaching storm. A sullen cloud hung over the sky. The library windows opened upon the shrubberies. Here the trees were planted so thickly that their shade obscured much of the light. The room was so dark that she could only dimly discern the handsome bindings of the books in the carved oak book-cases. The whole of the furniture seemed sombre and massive. The chair that the footman had placed for her was covered with violet velvet, and was in harmony with the rest of the furniture.