With a feeling akin to despair she turned and slowly pursued her way homeward.
Tattoo sounded in the camp; but there was no camp for her now.

It was as dead as the camp of the Assyrians after the passage of the Destroying Angel.
She noiselessly entered the house, seeing nobody, and went to bed.

Grief, which kept her awake at first, ultimately wrapped her in a heavy sleep.
The next morning her father met her at the foot of the stairs.
'Mr.Gould is come!' he said triumphantly.
Humphrey was staying at the inn, and had already called to inquire for her.

He had brought her a present of a very handsome looking-glass in a frame of _repousse_ silverwork, which her father held in his hand.

He had promised to call again in the course of an hour, to ask Phyllis to walk with him.
Pretty mirrors were rarer in country-houses at that day than they are now, and the one before her won Phyllis's admiration.