“Mattie and I are in hopes that we shall bring her back with us; but, at all events, my mother has promised to spare her at Christmas.” This time he addressed himself to Phillis.
“Oh, that will be nice for you!” she returned a little eagerly. “You have told us so much about her that I quite long to know her.”
“I should say you would suit each other perfectly,” he replied, as he rose to take his leave. “Sometimes you remind me of her, Miss Challoner; and yet you are not really alike. Good-bye, if I do not see you again before we go to Leeds.” And Phillis gave him her hand, and a cordial smile.
But when he had gone out of the room, his hostess accompanying him—for she had a word for his private ear,—Phillis sat down, and thought over those last words with a strange feeling of pleasure: “Sometimes you remind me of her, Miss Challoner.” Was it possible that he could trace any resemblance between her and this dearly-beloved sister, this Grace, whom he seemed to regard as absolute perfection?
“Oh, I hope she will come! I am sure we shall be such friends,” she said to herself: and from this time Phillis looked anxiously for Grace Drummond’s arrival.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
“A MAN HAS A RIGHT TO HIS OWN THOUGHTS.”
There were great rejoicings in the house in Lowder Street on the occasion of Isabel Drummond’s marriage.