ht in their arms.--So if mother really wants me to marry
Philip, and he doesn't mind ... I don't believe I shall mind, either."

Jemima made her last stand. "Suppose Philip does mind?"

"Then he won't ask me, of course, goosie!--Do show me how you made that
perfectly beautiful puff."

Jemima returned to her lord and master somewhat subdued and crestfallen.
She realized that for once she had overreached herself.

CHAPTER XL

Jemima's opposition had the effect, usual with determined natures, of
crystallizing Mrs. Kildare's purpose, and she watched with impatience a
situation that appeared rather slow in developing. Philip, touched to
the heart by the change in Jacqueline, devoted much time and thought to
her comforting, overtures which the girl met more than half way. The two
were constantly together now, galloping over the frosty fields, driving
about the country in the newly arrived Ark (which understanding Philip
had accepted with a generosity that matched Jemima's), or reading aloud
to each other in front of the roaring fire in Storm hall.

Kate, realizing however unconsciously that when she was about he had
less attention for her daughter, kept out of their way as much as
possible. It occurred to her that Philip was rather neglecting his
parish in Jacqueline's behalf. She smiled to herself, and frequently
commended Providence for its assistance.

But Providence moved a trifle slowly for a woman accustomed to prompt
and decisive action. She yearned to advise Philip to strike while the
iron was hot, to claim the girl for his own before her natural youth and
high spirits reasserted themselves and made her less susceptible to
tenderness. She wanted to see the two she loved happy together, as she
had wanted nothing else since she put the thought of happiness out of
her own life. Why were they wasting so much priceless time?

Suddenly, one afternoon, as she was riding home to Storm, the reason
occurred to her. Philip's pride! the same pride that would permit him to
accept no help from her even as a boy, when the small income his mother
left him would have been insufficient to carry him through school and
seminary if he had not managed to secure tutoring positions to eke out.
He had accepted, perforce, the home she offered him during vacations,
but nothing more, not even a horse for his personal use. He was a poor
man, would perhaps always be a poor man, dependent upon the meager
salary of a country clergyma