turned Isabella, "but I have sometimes thought
that she must have hoped that Francis would see them some day; but her
hope has been vain."

"Why did you not go straight to Marion--to Mrs. Heathcote, I mean, and
ask her?" asked Philippa. "Marion is so kind, she would have told you
all she could. Or Doctor Gale? Did you not know him? Why could you
not have asked him?"

"I hardly know why I did not do so, but I know that it was impossible
to me. It is not as if I had ever--as if I had any right--I was a
stranger. It is true that I knew Robert Gale in the old days, but look
at the years that have passed. He would probably not have remembered
me, and how could I have explained? It would have been like tearing my
inmost heart out and laying it on the table for him to dissect as he
chose. My story was my own--I have hugged it very close--until you
came. And yet I think I always knew that some day, through no effort
of mine, the veil would be lifted. I was certain of it, and in that
certainty I could wait with some degree of patience until the moment
came. Sometimes I must confess I have wondered whether it would be in
this world or the next--and I didn't want it in some other sphere, but
here in the old world, among the scenes and sights he loved. I have
waited for some message. Will it ever come, I wonder! Shall I ever
see his face again? For a moment I thought it had come when I met
you--in all outward seeming, the Phil I used to know. I knew she was
dead--I saw it in the papers; and then to meet you! Honestly, my
senses reeled.

"Then of course it became clear that you were of another generation. I
think I did not realise how far I had left my youth behind until I knew
you. And still you did not mention him--and God knows I wanted to
question--but I saw that if I wanted all the truth I must wait a little
longer. I saw you were not one of those who blurt out all their
affairs to a passing stranger--that first I must win your trust and, if
I could, your affection."

Philippa laid her hand on Isabella's with a mute gesture and she
clasped it tightly.

"So I set myself to wait again with all the patience I could muster.
You may wonder why I told you about Ian Verity; perhaps it seems to you
a small thing--but it was all I had, all that I valued outside the
story that I am telling you now, and I gave you my confidence, craving
yours in return. It was nothing to you. But now you have broken the
silen