on, and so on. She reiterated the
Major's regret that Philippa should have been drawn into the affair
while a guest in their house, and particularly during their absence.
Her pity for Francis was intense, but that did not alter her fixed
opinion that Philippa was not doing the best or the kindest thing by
assisting to deceive him; for that was what it really amounted to. She
knew Philippa's power of sympathy, and her loving heart had no doubt
blinded her to what was wise and right.

The girl read the letter carefully, but even if the arguments contained
in it might have moved her to a different decision had they come
earlier, they arrived too late to be of any value whatever. She told
herself that it was only natural that Marion should feel as she
did--that no one who was not on the spot, who had not seen Francis,
could possibly judge of what was best for him--and that the wisdom of
her decision had been amply proved by the marvellous improvement in his
health. As for grave dangers in the future, they did not trouble her;
she could only think of each moment as it came.

She answered the letter, assuring Marion of her affection, and
regretting they could not see the matter in the same light, and
repeating her conviction that had her friend been there she would
undoubtedly have acted in the same way. Then she dismissed the
question from her mind. This was not the moment for looking back and
wondering what would have happened if she had acted differently.

If she had wondered at all, it was to marvel why she had hesitated, for
now she could not see that any alternative had been practicable; but
she was not one of those unfortunate people who are forever looking
back, forever apprehensive, forever haunted by doubts as to whether
they have done the right thing; on the contrary, she possessed sound
stability of purpose and a power of acting on her own convictions,
fearlessly accepting any responsibility they entailed.

It is true that in this affair she had found an unusual difficulty in
arriving at a decision, but once having made up her mind, she was not
likely to be affected by the opinion of others. Having chosen her path
she would tread it without faltering. Her time was fully occupied with
details which, although in themselves trifling, were of importance to
her great objective--gathering flowers for Francis' room--collecting
scraps of news--trying over new songs to sing to him--planning fresh
ways to inter