“You are becoming quite horrid, and I expected you to be so nice,” said Phyllis, pouting very prettily.
“And I expected you to confide in me,” said Ella reproachfully. “I have been watching you for some time—not merely during the past week, but long before; and I have seen—what I have seen. He could not have told you that he meant to return—you must have crossed each other in the trains. How did you know, my dear girl? Let me coax it out of you.”
Phyllis made no answer for some time; she was examining, with a newly acquired, but very intense interest, the texture of the sheen of the blouse which she was wearing. At last she raised her eyes, and saw how Ella was looking at her. Then she said slowly:
“I saw him in the train that was leaving when our train arrived.”
“Heavens! that is a confession!” cried Ella quite merrily.
“You forced it from me,” said Phyllis. “But why should there be any mystery between us? I’m sure I may tell you all the secrets of my life. Such as they are, you know them already.”
“They are safe in my keeping. My dear Phyllis, don’t you know that it has always been my dearest hope to see you and Herbert Courtland—well, interested in each other? I saw that he was interested in you long ago; but I wasn’t sure of you. That is just why I was so anxious for you to come down here for the week we have just passed. I wanted to bring you both together. I wanted to see you in love with each other; I wanted to see you both married.”
“Ella—Ella!”
“I wanted it, I tell you, not because I loved you, though you know that I love you better than anyone in the world.”
“Dearest Ella!”