indoors all day as you have--she was always a restless
fairy thing--I never remember her still for long--and you are always
working. Phil never did. Oh, I can find many little differences now.

"I cannot think of her as dead--she was so bright--so happy. She is
dead--and I have lived on all these years. I wonder that I did not
know that she was dead. I ought to have known it, for I loved her so.
And all our love lately has been only a dream--and we were so happy.
Oh, why was I not told the truth? why did you not let me die? It would
have been kinder than to let me live to find out for myself--that she
is gone--and I am all alone."

Philippa slipped down upon her knees beside the couch, and cried
passionately, "Oh no, you are not all alone--we have been so happy--I
have made you happy. Can we not be happy again? I love you so--have
you no love for me?"

She was sobbing now, with her face hidden in her hands.

"I do not know," he said. "It is Phil I love--I loved you when I
thought that you were Phil. My dear, my dear, how can I disentangle
the present from the past?"

"Then do not try," she pleaded, raising her tear-stained face. "Oh,
Francis, let us be happy again; let me make you happy. Think of me as
Phil if you will--but let us dream again the dream we found so sweet.
I love you so, and I will comfort you. Think of all we had planned.
Shall we not grasp our dream and make it real? If I may be your
wife--as you asked me--we will go together to the place where it is
always sunshine and you will find that life can hold brightness. I
will make it bright for you. You remember it was all arranged, we were
to go to the Magical Island--that was what you called it. Do not send
me away from you."

He looked at her pityingly. "My dear," he said gently, "it was only a
dream--a dream and a delusion. It is not possible--you are only a
child, while I am old. You are Jim's girl, and Jim was my boyhood's
friend. Your life is all before you, while mine is near the
ending--and--it is Phil I love."

"I am no child." She was pleading desperately now for what was
slipping from her grasp. "I am no child, but a woman, and I love
you--I ask of you nothing more than the right to be with you and care
for you. You say you are all alone--then let me comfort you."

He shook his head. "Phil is dead--my life is over--I did not know--and
she will forgive me my mistake--she must know I love no one but her.
She was s