crificing herself on love's altar; she was
essentially a woman who knew love at its very best and strongest, and
who would at any time have laid down her life for the beloved; but
there was another thing more precious to her than life, and that was
righteousness. She had in her some of the stuff of which martyrs were
made, and she would have torn her heart out by the roots sooner than
have stepped into happiness over the grave of a principle. And to her,
at any rate, it was clear that in this case a very precious principle
was being violated, for the whole matter hung upon a deception. Truth
was right, and untruth was wrong, and her whole heart was bent upon
bringing Philippa to a correct vision of right.

"My dearest," she said, as Philippa ceased speaking, "you say that he
is better and stronger now. Well, then, tell him the truth."

"I cannot do that," replied the girl firmly. "It would only make him
very unhappy, even if he were strong enough to bear it."

"It might make him unhappy just for the time," rejoined Marion quickly.
"But surely, oh, surely that would be better than the greater
unhappiness of knowing you have deceived him. For he must find out.
You cannot possibly guard him against enlightenment. Why, any day when
he is able to go out he might meet some one who would make some remark
quite by chance which would betray you. He needs you, he is to a
certain extent dependent on you; once he knew he would--in a little
while if not at once--turn to you for comfort."

"I love him too much to hurt him."

"I believe you love him, and I am sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because this love must bring you pain; but believe me, dearest
Philippa, for his sake it would be kinder to tell him."

"I cannot see it," answered the girl rather hotly. "He is absolutely
happy, absolutely contented. He knows I love him. The fact that he
has made a mistake hurts nobody."

"There can be no blessing on a love which is not based on truth," said
Marion gently.

"You speak as if I were defrauding some one. There is no one else to
be considered. Phil is dead and gone, and the whole matter rests
between him and me."

"You are defrauding him and you are defrauding yourself of the highest
and best part of love, and what love should mean--confidence and trust!
Philippa, let me tell him. Let me tell him, and explain your pity
which misled you and which grew into love for him."

"Oh no, no!" cried the girl quickly