He wraps her furs closer round her.

"_Cold?_" with a tender glance.

There is a volume in the word.

* * * * *

Philip in the meanwhile is having tea with his cousin, Erminie Henderson.

She is a thoroughly staunch woman, with the warmest of hearts, sociable,
bright, reliable, always ready with a helping hand where help is needed,
yet human enough to err occasionally. Philip has known her from a child,
has seen her weaknesses and excellences. The former overrule the latter.
She is fond of him in a cousinly spirit, and delighted at his visit.

For some time they talk on ordinary subjects, till at last Erminie folds
her arms, looks him searchingly up and down, and asks straight out:

"What's the matter, Phil?"

He starts, but returns her glance openly.

"To tell you the truth, I have come to confide in you--to ask you a
favour."

"Good," replies Erminie, who has heard many a confidence in her day. "Go
on."

"You know but little of my wife--she is young, quite a girl--very easily
influenced."

His words come shortly. He breathes hard. "I would tell _you_ what I
could not say to any other creature. It is early days, and we have begun
to quarrel. She has made great friends with a frivolous widow--a woman
next door--whom I warned her against from the first. I have done all in
my power to stop the intimacy, but protestations only appear to
strengthen it. This woman has got Eleanor entirely under her thumb, she
is like soft clay in her hands. I thought I could mould my wife, who was
utterly unformed, a little country farm girl. But Giddy Mounteagle has
proved stronger, cleverer than I. Perhaps her method is easier to
follow, perhaps I have misunderstood Eleanor from the first. Day by day
she drifts farther from me, and yet, _if_ such a thing were possible, I
love her more."

He rises and leans his head on his arms over the mantel-border.

"Help me, Erminie; you might do so much."

"How?"

"Come and stay with us--use _your_ influence with Eleanor."

Miss Henderson seems confused.

"I should be delighted. I would do anything for you, but----"

Philip looks up quickly, his eyebrows rise involuntarily.

He has never yet known a "but" from Erminie's lips, when asking her aid.

"The 'buts' of this world are its stumbling blocks."

"I am going to be married very shortly, I am in the midst of
'trousseauing'."

"Ah! I had forgotten," he replies, smothering his dis