rembled slightly as she entered. With
all his strength he could not restrain this exhibition of emotion.

When he had visited her so often at Shadynook she had invariably worn
a number of jewels, and seemed to have taken an idle delight in
decorating her person with all the splendor which unlimited wealth
places at the command of those who possess it. Now she came like a
simple village maiden--like a May-day queen; queen not in virtue of
her jewels or her wealth, but for her beauty and simplicity and
kindness.

If he had loved her before, poor Mowbray now more than loved her.

All his resolutions melted before her approach, as the iceberg thaws
and dissolves beneath the rays of a tropic sky. He had floated into
the old latitudes of love and warmth again, and his cold heart once
more began to beat--his hardness to pass away; leaving the old, true,
faithful love.

She came on carelessly through the crowd, dispensing smiles and gay
laughter. Surrounded by a host of admirers, she talked with all of
them at once--scattered here a jest, there a smile; asked here a
question, replied gaily there to one addressed to her; and as she
moved, the crowd of gallant gentlemen moved with her, as the stars
hover around and follow in the wake of the bright harvest moon.

Philippa was "easily foist." She had that rare joyousness which is
contagious, making all who come within its influence merry like
itself; and with her wildest laughter and her most careless jests, a
maiden simpleness and grace was mingled which made the "judicious" who
had "grieved" before as much her admirers as the ruffled and powdered
fine gentlemen who bowed and smiled and whispered to her as she moved.

Poor Mowbray! He saw what he had lost, and groaned.

This was the woman whom he loved--would have given worlds to have love
him again. This was the bold true nature he had felt such admiration
for--and now he saw how maidenly she was, and only saw it fully when
she was lost to him.

Could she have ever uttered those cruel words which still echoed in
his heart?--and was this kind and happy face, this open, frank, and
lovely girl, the woman who had struck his heart so rudely?

Could he not love her still, and go to her and say, "I wronged you,
pardon me, I love you more than ever"?

No; all that was over, and he might love her madly, with insane
energy, and break his heart with the thought of her beauty and
simplicity and truth; but never would he again app