Phyllis of Philistia | Page 8

greatly mistaken, and the bishop had a shrewd idea that the rector of St. Chad's was greatly mistaken.
(It may be mentioned that he came to this determination when he had read the book through, and found it was so cleverly written that it included no heretical phrase in all its pages.)
But so soon as Phyllis Ayrton had read the first review of the book that fell into her hands, she felt inexpressibly shocked. Great Heavens! Was it possible that she was actually at that moment engaged to marry the man who had written such a book--a book that held up Delilah to admiration, and that abased Ruth? (It was singular how everyone settled upon Ruth in this connection.)
She did not pause to analyze her feelings--to try and find out if she was really so fond of Ruth as to make Ruth's insult her own; but without a moment's delay, without a word of consultation with her father, she sat down at her desk and wrote a letter to George Holland, asking him to release her from her promise to marry him; and adding that if he should decline to do so it would make no difference to her; she would consider the engagement between them at an end all the same.
She felt, when that letter was posted, as if a great weight were lifted from her mind--from her heart. Then a copy of "Revised Versions" arrived for her from the author, and with the ink still wet upon the pen with which she had written that letter to him, she caught up the book and covered it with kisses.
Had he seen that action her lover would have been thoroughly satisfied. A young woman must be very deeply in love with a man when she kisses the cover of a book which he has just published. That is what George Holland would have thought, having but a superficial acquaintance with the motives that sway young women.
Later in the day he had replied to her letter, and had appointed four o'clock on the following afternoon as the hour when he trusted she would find it convenient to see him, in order to give him an opportunity of making an explanation which he trusted would enable her to see that "Revised Versions," so far from being the dreadful book she seemed to imagine it to be, was in reality written with a high purpose.
She had not shrunk from an interview with him. She had sent him a line to let him know that she would be at home at four o'clock; and now she sat in her drawing room and observed, without emotion, that in five minutes that hour would strike.
The clock struck, and before the last tone had died away, the footman announced the Rev. George Holland.
CHAPTER IV.
SHE HAD NO RIGHT TO ACCUSE HIM OF READING THE BIBLE DAILY.
Phyllis shook hands with her visitor. He sought to retain her hand, as he had been in the habit of doing, as he stood beside her with something of a proprietary air. He relinquished her hand with a little look of surprise--a sort of pained surprise. She was inexorable. She would not even allow him to maintain his proprietary air.
"Do sit down, Mr. Holland," she said.
"What! 'Mr. Holland' already? Oh, Phyllis!"
He had a good voice, full of expression--something beyond mere musical expression. People (they were mostly women) said that his voice had soul in it, whatever they meant by that.
She made no reply. What reply could she make? She only waited for him to sit down.
"Your letter came as a great shock to me, Phyllis," said he, when he had seated himself, not too close to her. He did not wish her to fancy that he was desirous of having a subtle influence of propinquity as an ally. "A great shock to me."
"A shock?" said she. "A shock, after you had written that book?"
"I fancied you would understand it, Phyllis--you, at least. Of course I expected to be misrepresented by the world--the critics--the clerics--what you will--but you----You had not read it when you wrote that letter to me--that terrible letter. You could not have read it."
"I had only read one notice of it--that was enough."
"And you could write that letter to me solely as the evidence of one wretched print? Oh, Phyllis!"
Pain was in his voice. It may have been in his face as well, but she did not see it; his face was averted from her.
"Yes," she said quietly; "I wrote that letter, Mr. Holland. You see, the paper gave large extracts from the book. I did not come to my conclusion from what the newspaper article said, but from what you had said in your book--from the quoted passages."
"They did not do me justice. I did not look for justice at their