could hold so much happiness, or so great a joy as I have
now. Tell me," she added more lightly, "how long do you think we ought
to keep the nurse?"

"There is no need for her now," he said in his usual professional
manner. "Keen can look after him, with you and Mrs. Goodman to do the
cosseting. I will get rid of her at the end of the week."

"He will be able to come down-stairs soon, and then I shall drive him
out in the pony-carriage."

"It won't hurt him," he agreed, "provided he is carried down the
stairs. If I could only tell how much he remembers!"

"That is what we cannot tell. Perhaps it is better to hope that he
will never remember."

The doctor nodded. "I shall not be coming so often now. I have one or
two other cases which require a good deal of attention, and you can
send for me if it is necessary. Meanwhile I will look in every few
days. He is less likely to think of his illness if I am not here to
remind him of it. Have you heard when the Major is coming home?"

"No. In Marion's last letter she said that Dickie would be able to
travel in a fortnight or so, but that he was ordered to the sea. So I
don't know whether they will come home or not. She said that this
coast was rather too bracing for him--at least she thought so."

"I expect you will hear something in the next day or two," said he
rather grimly.

Philippa laughed. "Yes," she agreed, "I expect I shall."

CHAPTER XVII

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW

"All things
Of dearest value, hang on slender strings."--WALLER.

"So, my dear, it has come." These were Isabella's words of greeting.

For a moment Philippa hesitated; then she raised her eyes and met the
other's look fearlessly.

"Yes," she said simply. "How did you know?"

Isabella took her arm and they walked on together.

"How did I know?" she repeated. "It is written on your face. I was
waiting for it, you see."

"You were waiting for it?" repeated the girl wonderingly.

"Yes. I knew it must come. If for no other reason than that pity is
akin to love; but more than that, I knew that if there was anything
left in the older man of the Francis I used to know--any of his great
charm and sweetness of character--you could not, being what you are,
fail to love him."

"I did not know--indeed I did not know."

"No, I am certain of that. It is curious, isn't it"--Isabella spoke
musingly--"how a little spark of love may fall, all unknown to
our