her vanity could have possibly
received. To think that she, who had more admirers at her feet than any
other woman in London, should have tried so hard to win this one, and
have failed--that her beauty, her grace, her wit, her talent, should all
have been lavished in vain.

Why did she fail so completely? Why had she not won his love? It was
given to no other--at least she had the consolation of knowing that. He
had talked about his ideal, but he had not found it; he had his own
ideal of womanhood, but he had not met with it.

"Are other women fairer, more lovable than I am?" she asked herself.
"Why should another win where I have failed?"

So through the long hours of the starlit night she lamented the love and
the wreck of her life, she mourned for the hope that could never live
again, while her name was on the lips of men who praised her as the
queen of beauty, and fair women envied her as one who had but to will
and to win.

She would have given her whole fortune to win his love--not once, but a
hundred times over.

It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she who had everything the
world could give--beauty, health, wealth, fortune--should ask but this
one gift, and that it should be refused her.

She watched the stars until they faded from the skies and then she
buried her face in the pillow and sobbed herself to sleep.

Chapter XII.

It was when the sun, shining into her room, reached her that an idea
occurred to Philippa which was like the up-springing of new life to her.
All was not yet lost. He did not love her--he had not thought of making
her his wife; but it did not follow that he would never do so. What had
not patience and perseverance accomplished before now? What had not love
won?

He had acknowledged that she was beautiful; he had owned to her often
how much he admired her. So much granted, was it impossible that he
should learn to love her? She told herself that she would take
courage--that she would persevere--that her great love must in time
prevail, and that she would devote her life unweariedly to it.

She would carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance. She would
never let him find her dull or unhappy. Men liked to be amused. She
would do her best to entertain him; he would never have a moment's
vacancy in her society. She would find sparkling anecdotes, repartees,
witty, humorous stories, to amuse him. He liked her singing; she would
cultivate it more and more.