ver
known."

"Ah, now, Phillida," protested Philip, quite bewildered for want of a
lighted cigar to relieve his embarrassment, "you make me feel like a
fool. I'm no hero; it isn't in me to play any grand parts. I shall be
known, after I'm dead, by the auction catalogue of my collection of rare
books, and by nothing else. 'The Gouverneur Sale' will long be
remembered by collectors. That sort of distinction fits me. But you and
Charley are making me ridiculous with all this talk."

"Phil, you dear fellow," said Phillida, passionately, rising and putting
her hands on his shoulder, "you saved me from life-long misery, and may
be from death, at a fearful sacrifice of your own feelings. I'll
remember it the longest day I live," and she leaned over and kissed him,
and then turned abruptly away to go down-stairs.

Philip trembled from head to foot as he rose and followed Phillida to
the top of the stairs, trying in vain to speak. At last he said huskily:
"Phillida, I want to explain. I am no hero. I had made a fool of myself
as I knew I should if I ever--ever spoke to you as I did that day. Now,
of all things I don't like to be ridiculous. I thought that evening if I
could be the means of bringing you two together it would take the curse
off, so to speak. I mean that it would make me cut a less ridiculous
figure than I did and restore my self-respect. I wanted to be able to
think of you and Charley happy together without calling myself bad
names, you know."

"Yes, yes," replied Phillida. "I know. You never did a generous thing in
your life without explaining it away. But I know you too well to be
imposed on. I shall always say to myself, 'There's one noble and
disinterested man under the sky, and that's my brave Cousin Philip.'
Good-by." And standing on the first step down she reached him her hand
over the baluster rail, looked at him with a happy, grateful face which
he never forgot, and pressed his hand, saying again, "Good-by, Philip,"
and then turned and went down-stairs.

And Philip went back and shut his library door and locked it, and was
vexed with himself because for half an hour he could not see to go on
with his cataloguing. And that evening his mother was pleased to hear
him whistling softly an air from the "Mikado"--he had not whistled
before in weeks. She was equally surprised when a little later he
consented to act as Charley's best man. To her it seemed that Philip
ought to feel as though he were a kind of