‘Drowned in the fountain?’ cried Owen, affecting horror.
‘Then you must have done it,’ said his sister, ‘for when I came back, after ransacking the house for salts, you had both disappeared. Have you been washing your hands all this time after the murder?’
‘Nothing can clear me but an appeal to the fountain,’ said Owen; ‘will you come and look in, Phœbe? It is more delicious than ever.’
But Phœbe had had enough of the moonlight, did not relish the subject, and was not pleased with Owen’s manner; so she refused by a most decided ‘No, thank you,’ causing Lucy to laugh at her for thinking Owen dangerous.
‘At least you will vouchsafe to trust yourself with me for the Lancers,’ said Owen, as Cilla’s partner came to claim her, and Phœbe rejoiced in anything to change the tone of the conversation; still, however, asking, as he led her off, what had become of the poor schoolmistress.
‘Gone home, very sensibly,’ said Owen; ‘if she is wise she will know how to trust to Cilly’s invitations! People that do everything at once never do anything well. It is quite a rest to turn to any one like you, Phœbe, who are content with one thing at a time! I wish—’
‘Well, then, let us dance,’ said Phœbe, abruptly; ‘I can’t do that well enough to talk too.’
It was not that Owen had not said the like things to her many times before; it was his eagerness and fervour that gave her an uncomfortable feeling. She was not sure that he was not laughing at her by putting on these devoted airs, and she felt herself grown up enough to put an end to being treated as a child. He made her a profound bow in a mockery of acquiescence, and preserved absolute silence during the first figures, but she caught his eye several times gazing on her with looks such as another might have interpreted into mingled regret and admiration, but which were to her simply discomfiting and disagreeable, and when he spoke again, it was not in banter, but half in sadness. ‘Phœbe, how do you like all this?’
‘I think I could like it very much.’
‘I am almost sorry to hear you say so; anything that should tend to make you resemble others is detestable.’