et
little watering-place called St. Mildred's--I remember hearing Vere
speak of it last year--which would meet your wishes, I think, if Lady
Peters and Madaline consent."

"I am sure they will consent," put in Lord Arleigh hopefully.

"There is another thing to be thought of," said the duchess--"a
_trousseau_ for the fair young bride."

"Yes, I know. She will have every fancy gratified after our marriage,
but there will not be time for much preparations before it."

"Let me be fairy godmother," said the duchess. "In three weeks from
to-day I engage to have such a _trousseau_ as has rarely been seen. You
can add dresses and ornaments to it afterward."

"You are very good. Do you know," he said, "that it is only now that I
begin to recognize my old friend? At first you seemed so unsympathetic,
so cold--now you are my sister Philippa the sharer of my joys and
sorrows. We had no secrets when we were children."

"No," she agreed, mournfully, "none."

"And we have none now," he said, with a happy laugh. "How astonished
Vere will be when he returns and finds that Madaline is married! And I
think that, if it can be all arranged without any great blow to his
family pride, he will not be ill-pleased."

"I should think not," she returned, listlessly.

"And you, Philippa--you will extend to my beloved wife the friendship
and affection that you have given to me?"

"Yes," she replied, absently.

"Continue to be her fairy-godmother. There is no friend who can do as
you can do. You will be Madaline's sheet-anchor and great hope."

She turned away with a shudder.

"Philippa," he continued, "will you let me send Lady Peters to you now,
that I may know as soon as possible whether she consents?"

"You can send her if you will, Norman."

Was it his fancy, or did he really, as he stood at the door, hear a
deep, heart-broken sigh? Did her voice, in a sad, low wail, come to
him--"Norman, Norman!"

He turned quickly[5], but she seemed already to have forgotten him, and
was looking through the open window.

Was it his fancy again, when the door had closed, or did she really
cry--"Norman!" He opened the door quickly.

"Did you call me, Philippa?" he asked.

"No," she replied; and he went away.

"I do not understand it," he thought; "there is something not quite
right. Philippa is not like herself."

Then he went in search of Lady Peters, whom he bewildered and astonished
by telling her that it lay in her power to make h