at he should not be
allowed to excite himself in any way. But I do not think we shall have
any trouble of that kind, for I have already warned him about it. I
must go now. You may expect me at five this afternoon."

"I wish Marion were here." The Major turned to Philippa when they were
left alone. "I think in a case like this a woman might know what to
say to you. I have said all I can, haven't I?"

"You have said all you can, but--I think you saw for yourself, didn't
you?"

He nodded. "Poor chap!" he said, with real feeling in his voice. "It
is a wonderful change."

"He knew you?"

"Apparently; although, of course, he may have thought I was my father.
We had the same name. He looks frightfully ill--more so than he did
when he was walking about his rooms--but he spoke as sensibly as you or
I."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'That you, Bill?' when I came into the room. 'I've had
rather a nasty turn, but I'm on the mend now. How is Phil? That
ruffian has been keeping her away for a day or two, but he says I may
see her soon now. Will you give her my dear love?' And then he looked
round for the violets which were beside his bed. 'Give her these, will
you, old fellow, and tell her I shall see her as soon as I can get on
the soft side of old Rob.' He does not look to me as if he could live
long."

"Then we will make him happy, until--as long as he lives. Do not
trouble any more about it--my share of it, I mean. Just try and think
of me as if I were really Phil, not Philippa any more. Will you help
me?"

"I wish Marion were here," repeated the Major earnestly. "But it is
impossible; she cannot leave the boy. And I cannot leave her, for she
is nearly worn out with nursing and anxiety."

"I think it is really better that I should be here alone," returned
Philippa. "It makes it all easier, I think."

"As you are going to carry this through," he said after a while, "I
will give you some letters and papers I have, which may help you. I
will fetch them."

He returned after a few minutes with a dispatch box in his hand, which
he laid on a table beside her. "In this you will find Philippa
Harford's letters, and also a number written by Francis when they were
engaged. You had better read them. You have a right to do so. My
grandmother put them all together and gave them to me. Poor old soul,
I wonder what she would say if she were here to-day. I have no doubt
she would see the matter in t