“My darling, my darling!” she cried,—­and now and again her voice was broken with a sob,—­“my darling Phyllis!  I have come to you—­I want to be with you—­to be near you—­to keep my arms about you, so tightly that no one can pluck us asunder.  Oh, you don’t know what men are—­they would pluck us asunder if they could; but they can’t now.  With you I am safe—­that is why I have come to you, my Phyllis.  I want to be safe—­indeed I do!”

She had now raised her head from Phyllis’ shoulder, but was still holding her tightly—­a hand on each of her arms, and her face within an inch of the girl’s face.

Phyllis kissed her softly on each cheek.

“My poor dear!” she said, “what can have happened to you?”

“Nothing—­nothing!  I tell you that nothing has happened to me,” cried Ella, with a vehemence that almost amounted to fierceness in her voice.  “Would I be here with you now if anything had happened to me? tell me that.  I came to you—­ah! women have no guardian angels, but they have sisters who are equally good and pure, and you are my sister—­my sister—­better than all the angels that ever sang a dirge over a lost soul that they put forth no hand to save.  You will not let me go, darling Phyllis, you will not let me go even if I tell you that I want to go.  Don’t believe me, Phyllis; I don’t want to go—­I don’t want to be lost, and if I leave you I am lost.  You will keep me, dear, will you not?”

“Until the end of the world,” said Phyllis.  “Come, dearest Ella, tell me what is the matter—­why you have come to me in that lovely costume.  You look as if you were dressed for a bridal.”

“A bridal—­a bridal?  What do you mean by that?” said Ella, with curious eagerness—­a suggestion of suspicion was in her tone.  She had loosed her hold upon the girl’s arms.

Phyllis laughed.  She put a hand round Ella’s waist and led her to a sofa, saying: 

“Let us sit down and talk it all over.  That is the lace you told me you picked up at Munich.  What a design—­lilies!”

“The Virgin’s flower—­the Virgin’s flower!  I never thought of that,” laughed Ella.  “It is for you—­not me, this lace.  I shall tear it off and—­”

“You shall do nothing of the kind,” cried Phyllis.  “I have heaps of lace—­more than I shall ever wear.  What a lovely idea that is of yours,—­I’m sure it is yours,—­sewing the diamonds around the cup of the lilies, like dewdrops.  I always did like diamonds on lace.  Some people would have us believe that diamonds should only be worn with blue velvet.  How commonplace!  Where have you been to-night?”

“Where have I been?  I have been at home.  Where should a good woman be in the absence of her husband, but at home—­his home and her home?”