to listen to you, Norman, and to hear what you have
to say."

"You see, Philippa, the starlight makes me bold. If we were in that
brilliantly-lighted drawing-room of yours, I should probably hesitate
long before speaking plainly, as I am going to do now."

He saw her clasp her hands tightly, but he had no key to what was
passing in her mind. He drew nearer to her.

"You know, Philippa," he began, "that I have always been fond of you. I
have always taken the same interest in you that I should have taken in a
dearly-beloved sister of my own, if Heaven had given me one."

She murmured some few words which he did not hear.

"I am going to speak to you now," he continued, "just as though you were
my own sister, have I your permission to do so, Philippa?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And you promise not to be angry about any thing that I may say?"

"I could never be angry with you, Norman," she answered.

"Then I want you to tell me why you will not marry the Duke of
Hazlewood. You have treated me as your brother and your friend. The
question might seem impertinent from another; from me it will not appear
impertinent, not curious--simply true and kindly interest. Why will you
not marry him, Philippa?"

A quick sharp spasm of pain passed over her face. She was silent for a
minute before she answered him, and then she said:

"The reason is very simple, Norman--because I do not love him."

"That is certainly a strong reason; but, Philippa, let me ask you now
another question--why do you not love him?"

She could have retorted, "Why do you not love me?" but prudence forbade
it.

"I cannot tell you. I have heard you say that love is fate. I should
imagine it must be because the Duke of Hazlewood is not my fate."

He did not know what answer to make to that, it was so entirely his own
way of thinking.

"But, Philippa," he resumed after a pause, "do you not think that you
might love him if you tried?"

"I have never thought about it," was the quiet reply.

Lord Arleigh continued:

"In my idea he is one of the most charming men in England; I have never
seen a more perfect type of what an English gentleman should be--he is
noble, generous, brave, chivalrous. What fault do you find with him,
Philippa?"

"I?" she asked, looking up at him in wonder. "My dear Norman, I have
never found fault with the duke in my life."

"Then why can you not love him?"

"That is a very different thing. I find no fault with him; on the