a little, her hands lightly
clasped in front of her. Her youth, her dress, her diamonds, combined
strangely with the touch of high passion in her shining eyes, her
resolute voice.

"You see, dear Philip, I love George Anderson--"

Anderson gave a low cry--and, moving to her side, he grasped her hand.
She gave it to him, smiling--and went on:

"I love him--partly--because he is so true to his own people--because I
saw him first--and knew him first--among them. No! dear Philip, he has
his work to do in Canada--in that great, great nation that is to be. He
has been trained for it--no one else can do it but he--and neither you
nor I must tempt him from it."

The eyes of the brother and sister met. Elizabeth tried for a lighter
tone.

"But as neither of us _could_ tempt him from it--it is no use
talking--is it?"

Philip looked from her to Anderson in a frowning silence. No one spoke
for a little while. Then it seemed to them as though the young man
recognised that his effort had failed, and his physical weakness shrank
from renewing it. But he still resisted his mother's attempt to put an
end to the scene.

"That's all very well, Lisa," he said at last, "but what are you going
to do?"

Elizabeth withdrew her hand from Anderson's.

"What am I going to do? _Wait_--just that!"

But her lip trembled. And to hide it she sank down again in the low
chair in front of her brother, propping her face in both hands.

"Wait?" repeated Philip, scornfully--"and what for?"

"Till you and mother--come to my way of thinking--and"--she
faltered--"till Mr. Anderson--"

Her voice failed her a moment. Anderson stood motionless, bending
towards her, hanging upon her every gesture and tone.

"Till Mr. Anderson--" she resumed, "is--well!--is brave enough
to--trust a woman! and--oh! good Heavens!"--she dashed the tears from
her eyes, half laughing, as her self-control broke down--"clever enough
to save her from proposing to him in this abominable way!"

She sprang to her feet impatiently. Anderson would have caught her in
his arms; but with a flashing look, she put him aside. A wail broke from
Mrs. Gaddesden:

"Lisa--you won't leave us!"

"Never, darling--unless you send me!--or come with me! And now, don't
you think, Philip dearest, you might let us all go to bed? You are
really not worse, you know; and Mother and I are going to carry you off
south--very, very soon."

She bent to him and kissed his brow. Philip's face gradua