And still Phœbe made no reply. Fanny was greatly disturbed, and she told her mother privately that she was convinced there was something on Phœbe's mind with respect to Fred.
"Do not worry her or argue with her," Aunt Leth said. "Remember the sufferings she has endured, and leave it to herself to confide in us. Time will bring happiness to her bruised heart."
"Ask her to see Fred, mamma."
"She will see him this evening, my dear; she told me so; and I have written a note to him desiring him to come early."
"Then everything will be right," said Fanny. "Mamma, is it not strange that we do not hear from her father? He must know that Phœbe is with us."
"He does know, Fanny. I wrote to him, but I have not received a reply."
"I am glad of it. Phœbe is now entirely ours, and will live with us all her life that is, till she marries Fred."
Fred Cornwall arrived early in the afternoon, and Aunt Leth opened the door for him.
"She will see me, Aunt Leth?" he said, eagerly.
"Yes, Fred. She wishes to see you alone. You must be very gentle and quiet with her."
"Indeed I will be that. Here is some jelly, the kind she likes best."
"Thank you, Fred. Wait a moment in the dining-room. Fanny is with her, and I must call her away."
Presently Fred Cornwall entered the room in which Phœbe was sitting. She looked at him gratefully and tenderly; an angelic spirit of resolution was depicted in her face.
"Phœbe, my darling Phœbe!" he murmured, as he sat by her side and took her hand; and then he was overcome by her delicate, fragile appearance, and it was as much as he could do to prevent the tears running down his face.
She gently disengaged her hand.
"Why do you take your hand away, Phœbe? Let me hold it. Give it to me of your own free-will."
"No, Mr. Cornwall," she said, in a low, sweet tone. "I cannot I must not."
Again "Mr. Cornwall"! He looked at her reproachfully.
"Do you no longer love me, Phœbe, that you are so changed toward me?"
She was compelled to pause before she could answer him.
"You must not ask me to reply to that question," she then said "for pity's sake!"
"I must ask you," he said, impetuously. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Phœbe! Aunt Leth enjoined upon me to be gentle with you, and here am I forgetting! But Phœbe, dear Phœbe, my Phœbe consider! I implore you to consider! You gave me your heart, as I have given you mine. Have I done anything to forfeit your love?"
"Nothing," she said.
"Why, then, are you so strange to me? Why have you altered so?"
"I am not altered to you," she said.
"Then you love me still!" he cried.
"Will you listen to me?" she asked, "I have been trying to strengthen myself for this meeting, and you must not weaken me. No; do not kiss me! There is something that must be told that you must hear!"
"I will listen to you, my darling mine, and no other man's. You do not love another, Phœbe?"
"No, Fred." She was not aware that she had uttered the dear name.
"I am happy," he said. "Go on, my dear."
Then she told him of the oath her father had extracted from her that she would not marry without his consent, and said that, with that oath upon her conscience, she could not expect Fred to be bound to her.
"To receive you as my lover," she said, "would be, to my mind, as if I am spiritually breaking the oath I have sworn. It would make me feel guilty; it would lower me in my own esteem; it would be playing with my conscience."
"When you took the oath, Phœbe," said Fred Cornwall, immensely relieved, but at the same time perplexed, by the revelation, "you were not aware what you were binding yourself to?"
"I was not aware of it," she said. "My father spoke so kindly to me, and seemed to regard you with such favour, that I thought he intended to sanction our engagement. But he may not have known what was in my mind, as assuredly I did not know what was in his. It is not for me to say, and you must not press me. I am striving to do what is right. Help me to do it! I am bound by my oath. Without my father's consent I cannot marry you; he will never give it, and while he lives we can be nothing to each other. I have thought of it oh, so seriously! and I have decided
in what I believe to be the right way. If in the future I am ever in your mind, I wish you to think of me with respect."
"Through all the future that is before me," said Fred, "you will be ever in my mind, and I shall ever think of you with respect. If my love needed strengthening, what you have said would strengthen it; but it can never be stronger, more devoted, more complete than it is; nothing can make it so; and nothing can weaken it. 'Give me your hand, Phœbe.'" She looked at him pleadingly. "Give me your hand, Phœbe." She gave it to him. "I swear to you solemnly, on my honour as a man, on my faith as a Christian, that I will never marry another woman. May misfortune pursue and overtake me quickly if I ever prove false to the love I have given you! Have you anything to say to me, Phœbe?"
She understood him. He had given her a solemn pledge. He had a right to a similar pledge from her.