of
the success of my friends," she added, ingenuously. And then, quite
inconsequently, "I suppose you have news from Rivervale?"

Yes, Philip heard often from Alice, and he told the news as well as he
could, and the talk drifted along--how strange it seemed!--about things
in which neither of them felt any interest at the moment. Was there no
way to break the barrier that the little brown girl had thrown around
herself? Were all women, then, alike in parrying and fencing? The talk
went on, friendly enough at last, about a thousand things. It might have
been any afternoon call on a dear friend. And at length Philip rose to
go.

"I hope I may see you again, soon."

"Of course," said Evelyn, cheerfully. "I am sure father will be
delighted to see you. He enjoys so little now."

He had taken both her hands to say good-by, and was looking hungrily
into her eyes.

"I can't go so. Evelyn, you know, you must know, I love you."

And before the girl comprehended him he had drawn her to him and pressed
his lips upon hers.

The girl started back as if stung, and looked at him with flashing eyes.

"What have you done, what have you done to me?"

Her eyes were clouded, and she put her hands to her face, trembling, and
then with a cry, as of a soul born into the world, threw herself upon
him, her arms around his neck--"Philip, Philip, my Philip!"

XXVII

Perhaps Philip's announcement of his good-fortune to Alice and to
Celia was not very coherent, but his meaning was plain. Perhaps he
was conscious that the tidings would not increase the cheerfulness of
Celia's single-handed struggle for the ideal life; at least, he would
rather write than tell her face to face.

However he put the matter to her, with what protestations of
affectionate friendship and trust he wrapped up the statement that he
made as matter of fact as possible, he could not conceal the ecstatic
state of his mind.

Nothing like it certainly had happened to anybody in the world before.
All the dream of his boyhood, romantic and rose-colored, all the
aspirations of his manhood, for recognition, honor, a place in the life
of his time, were mere illusions compared to this wonderful crown of
life--a woman's love. Where did it come from into this miserable world,
this heavenly ray, this pure gift out of the divine beneficence, this
spotless flower in a humanity so astray, this sure prophecy of the final
redemption of the world? The immeasurable love of a g