Philippa did not hear it; they passed on, silent and
embarrassed.

Philippa, it was evident, had something to say, and scarcely knew how
to begin; she hesitated, laughed, blushed, and patted the ground
petulantly with her little foot. At last she said, with a smile and a
blush:

"I asked you to offer me your arm for an especial purpose. Can you
guess what that purpose was?"

Mowbray smiled, and replied:

"I am afraid not."

"I wished to tell you a tale."

"A tale?"

"A history, if you please; and as you are a thinker, and an impartial
one, to ask your opinion."

"I am sure you do me a great deal of honor," said Mowbray, smiling
with happiness; "I listen."

Philippa cast down her eyes, patted the ground more violently than
before with her silken-sandalled foot, and biting her lip, was silent.

Mowbray looked at her, and saw the blush upon her cheek. She raised
her head--their eyes met; and the blush deepened.

"Do not look at me," she said, turning away her head and bursting into
a constrained laugh; "I never could bear to have any one look at me."

"It is a very severe request, but I will obey you," he said, smiling;
"now for your history."

"It will surprise you, I suppose," she said, with her daring laugh
again; "but listen. Do not interrupt me. Well, sir, once upon a
time--you see I begin in true tale fashion--once upon a time, there
was a young girl who had the misfortune to be very rich. She had been
left an orphan at an early age, and never knew the love and tenderness
of parents. Well, sir, as was very natural, this young woman, with all
her wealth, experienced one want--but that was a great one--the
necessity of having some one to love her. I will be brief, sir--let me
go on uninterruptedly. One day this young woman saw pass before her a
man whose eyes and words proved that he had some affection for
her--enough that it was afterwards shown that she was not mistaken. At
the time, however, she doubted his affection. Her unhappy wealth had
made her suspicious, and she experienced a sort of horror of giving
her heart to some one who loved her wealth and not herself. Let me go
on, sir! I must not be interrupted! Well, she doubted this gentleman;
and one day said to him what she afterwards bitterly regretted. She
determined to charge him with mercenary intentions, and watch his
looks and listen to his words, and test him. He listened, replied
coldly, and departed, leaving her nearly heart-broken, for