me die," she murmured in a broken voice. "I am doomed to
work only misery in the world. Isn't it enough to have blighted the
happiness of Charley, whom I loved and still love in spite of myself?
Must I also plunge Philip into misery who has been more than a brother
to me? If I could only die and escape from this wretched life before I
do any further harm."

"I am sorry that I said anything, Phillida. Forget it. Forget it,
please." He said in an alarmed voice, rising as he spoke.

"Cousin," said Phillida, "you are the best friend I have. But you _must
not_ love me. There is nothing left for me. Nothing--but to die.
Good-by."

That evening Philip did not appear at dinner and his mother sent to
inquire the reason.

"Mr. Philip says he has a headache, and will not come down," said the
maid on her return.

After dinner the mother sought his room with a cup of coffee and a bit
of toast. Philip was lying on the lounge in his book-room with the gas
turned low.

"What's the matter, Philip? Is your throat sore? Are there any signs of
diphtheria?" demanded his mother anxiously.

"No, I am all right. A little out of sorts. Only just let me be quiet."

"Has anything gone wrong?"

"Nothing more than common."

"Something has worried you. Now, Philip, I can see plainly that you are
worrying about Phillida. Why don't you speak your mind if you care for
her, and have it over with?"

"It is over with, mother," said Philip.

"And she refused you?" said Mrs. Gouverneur, with rising indignation,
for she thought it rather a descent for Philip to offer himself to
Phillida or to anybody else.

"No, she didn't refuse me. I didn't formally offer myself. But I let her
know how I felt toward her. She'll never accept me."

"May be she will," said the mother. "Girls don't like to accept at the
first hint."

"No, she was kind and even affectionate with me, and broke her heart
over my confession that I loved her, so that I'm afraid I have done her
a great deal of harm."

"How do you know she will never accept you, you faint-hearted boy?"

"She let me see her whole heart. She loves Charley Millard as much as
ever, but, I think, for some reason she doesn't expect or wish a renewal
of the engagement. She called me the best friend she had in the world,
next to Charley Millard. That's an end of it. A good deal more of an end
of it than a flat refusal might have been."

"She's a foolish and perverse girl, who has compromised her famil