by those who saw it. And yet--thinking it over, as I have thought it
over so often--was there ever a single action of hers--a single
spontaneously unselfish action on her part--which should have led us to
suppose, to expect that she would rise high in any crisis? We were all
at her feet. We never noticed that she was utterly self-centred,
because we, with all the world, were ready to satisfy her lightest
wish. No, no, it was we who were wrong--wrong in our estimate of her.
We expected too much--we expected more than she was able to give--more
than a woman of her character was able to give. She simply acted as
she had acted all her life--doing what she liked best--refraining from
doing what was uncongenial--what did not amuse her. Poor, beautiful
butterfly! she was broken sadly at the finish. By all accounts her
married life was very unhappy. She did not live long."

"You are very charitable," said Philippa reflectively.

"No," he replied in his abrupt way, "I'm not. I'm merely wise after
the event, which is an easy thing enough. Ah, well, if Francis had
married her the chances are she would have failed him--if not in one
way, then in another. He endowed her with a half-angelic personality
which in truth was not hers at all. He placed her on a high pedestal
from which she must have fallen at the first buffet of life, and life
gives plenty of buffets, although perhaps you are too young to know the
truth of that at present." He rose as he spoke. "You are not so like
her as I thought you were when I first saw you," he went on, standing
and looking intently at the girl. "When I first saw you to-day I
thought you were just the very living image of your aunt, but you are
not. If you will forgive my plain speaking, I should like to say that
you are not so beautiful, but that you have more soul in your
face--more strength of character And it is what I see written there
that makes me dare to hope that you will see that we are in your hands.
But there, we won't say any more about that now. It isn't fair to urge
you, although God knows I wish to. Let me know your decision in a day
or two, and I will do my best to keep him quiet until then. When does
the Major return?"

Philippa hastily told him of Dickie's illness and the sudden departure
of his anxious parents, and also of the telegram she had received.

The doctor pulled at his beard.

"It is unfortunate," he muttered. "I have been writing to him to tell