highest and
hit mediocrity. I think that is more likely."

"I think you do not know the fame of Ian Verity," said Philippa.

"Oh, I don't thank you for personal fame. I would prefer something
less showy but of far more value. But as a matter of fact, what I
should choose had got very little to do with it."

"We all know what we should like, but we can't choose our prize."

"No," rejoined Isabella quickly, "You are quite right, we cannot
choose and we cannot all win.

"'And what reward for strivers who are losers?
A wooden spoon? Sometimes not even that.
Nor, does this seem, since men may not be choosers,
A thing to wonder at;'"

she quoted, smiling. "The wooden spoon is mine, and I suppose I ought
to cultivate a decent gratitude for favour received."

"What nonsense!" said Philippa, laughing. "You are not a loser. You
have won a great deal more than you know. Some day you will learn how
deep an affection your readers have for you, and your heart will be
warmed by the knowledge of the happiness you have given to thousands."

Isabella smiled. "Well, well; we shall see," she said serenely.

"You will be dragged from your retirement when that day comes,"
continued Philippa. "You will not be able to hide your light any
longer, and I shall be dazzled by the splendour of it."

"Not a bit of it. Here I am, and here I shall stay. I take comfort in
the fact that no one connects Ian Verity with an elderly and
unattractive spinster hidden in a hermitage on Bessmoor. You will not
betray me, I know, and it is good of you to come and visit me in my
solitude. I am growing old and you have all your life before you. I
have crossed to the shady side of the road while you walk still in the
sunshine. I have thought of you often since we met."

"And I of you," answered Philippa quietly, and then after a moment's
pause she added, "You do not ask me what I have been doing."

"That does not mean that I do not care to know," replied Isabella
gently. She was sitting looking out on the moor, leaning back in her
chair with her hands folded in her lap. Something in the rigidity of
her attitude told Philippa that she was listening intently.

"I have been helping to nurse Francis Heathcote."

CHAPTER XIV

ROPES OF GOSSAMER

"Deep in my heart the tender secret dwells,
Lonely and lost to light for evermore
Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,
Then trembles into silence as b