stay with you."

The heiress smiled gratefully. It was, indeed, the dearest wish of her
heart that Phillipa should stay with her for good and all, and she was
at no pains to conceal the fact. To Phillipa she spoke with
diffidence, doubting whether this great personage could condescend to
favour her son. But there was no lack of frankness in the old lady's
speech.

"If you and he would only make a match of it!"

Miss Fanshawe squeezed Mrs. Purling's hand affectionately.

"I like him, I confess. More's the pity. I'm sure he detests me."

"As if it were possible!"

"Trust a girl to find out whether she's appreciated. Mr. Purling, for
my sins, positively dislikes me; or else he has seen some one already
to whom he has given his heart."

Mrs. Purling shook her head sadly, remembering artful Dolly Driver.

"You do not know all your son's secrets; no mother does."

"I do know this one, I fear."

And then Mrs. Purling described the absurd mistake in identity.

"You are not angry?" she went on. "For my part, I was furious. But
nothing shall come of it, I solemnly declare. Harold will hardly risk
my serious displeasure; but he shall know that, sooner than accept
this creature as my daughter, I would banish him for ever from my
sight."

"It will not come to that, I trust," said Phillipa, earnestly, and
with every appearance of good faith.

"Not if you will help me, as I know you will."

Mrs. Purling was resolved now to issue positive orders for Harold to
marry Miss Fanshawe--out of hand. But next day Phillipa suddenly
announced her intention of returning to town.

"You promised to stay at least a month." The heiress was in tears.

"I am heartily sorry; but Caecilia--Lady Gayfeather--is ill and alone.
I must go to her at once."

"You have a feeling heart, Phillipa. This is a sacred duty; I cannot
object. But I shall see you again?"

"As soon as I can return, dear Mrs. Purling--if you will have me, that
is to say."

The story of Lady Gayfeather's illness was a mere fabrication. What
summoned Phillipa to London was this note:

"I _must_ see you. Can you be at Caecilia's on Saturday?--G."

Phillipa sat alone in Lady Gayfeather's drawing-room, when Mr.
Jillingham was announced.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

"I'm broke, simply."

"You don't look much like it."

To say the truth, he did not; he never did. He had had his ups and
downs; but if he was down he hid away in outer darkness; if you saw
hi