empting--would you
like a row?"

"Above everything else," she replied. And they went off in the little
pleasure-boat together.

It was a miniature lake, tall trees bordering it and dipping their green
branches into the water. The sun shone on the feathered spray that fell
from the sculls, the white swans raised their graceful heads as the
little boat passed by, and Philippa lay back languidly, watching the
shadow of the trees. Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. She looked
at Lord Arleigh.

"Norman," she said, "let the boat drift--I want to talk to you, and I
cannot while you are rowing."

He rested on his sculls, and the boat drifted under the drooping
branches of a willow-tree. He never forgot the picture that then
presented itself--the clear deep water, the green trees, and the
beautiful face looking at him.

"Norman," she said, in a clear, low voice, "I want to tell you that I
overheard all that you said to the Duchess of Aytoun. I could not help
it--I was so near to you."

She was taking the difficulty into her own hands! He felt most thankful.

"Did you, Philippa? I thought you were engrossed with the gallant
captain."

"Did you really and in all truth mean what you said to her?" she asked.

"Certainly; you know me well enough to be quite sure that I never say
what I do not mean."

"You have never yet seen the woman whom you would ask to be your wife?"
she said.

There was a brief silence, and then he replied:

"No, in all truth, I have not, Philippa."

A little bird was singing on a swaying bough just above them--to the
last day of her life it seemed to her that she remembered the notes. The
sultry silence seemed to deepen. She broke it.

"But, Norman," she said, in a low voice, "have you not seen me?"

He tried to laugh to hide his embarrassment, but it was a failure.

"I have seen you--and I admire you. I have all the affection of a
brother for you, Philippa--" and then he paused abruptly.

"But," she supplied, "you have never thought of making me your wife?
Speak to me quite frankly, Norman."

"No, Philippa, I have not."

"As matters stand between us, they require explanation," she said; and
he saw her lips grow pale. "It is not pleasant for me to have to mention
it, but I must do it. Norman, do you quite forget what we were taught to
believe when we were children--that our lives were to be passed
together?"

"My dearest Philippa, pray spare yourself and me. I did not know that