" Philippa said gently.
"I lost my way last night and went into the wrong room, and found--him.
I do not even know who he is, but he seemed to expect me. Try and tell
me what it all means."

"First, will you please tell me who you are?" said Mrs. Goodman.

"I am Philippa Harford."

"Aye, Philippa Harford! How little I thought ever to speak that name
again! You are Philippa Harford, that I know--it is written clearly on
your face for all to see; but you are not the Miss Philippa I knew,
although I had not imagined that two faces could be so much alike."

"My father was James Harford. He died a few years ago. I did not know
there was another Philippa."

"James Harford!" echoed the woman. "That would be Mr. Jim."

Philippa rose to her feet, and walking over to the dressing-table
returned with a photograph in her hand.

"This was my father," she said. "It is an old photograph."

Mrs. Goodman looked at it.

"Yes. Mr. Jim, we used to call him."

"You knew my father?"

"Aye, I knew him well. He was often here in the old days--they were
boys together. He was two years older than Mr. Francis. Miss Philippa
was his sister."

"My aunt?"

"Yes, she would be your aunt. And Mr. Francis loved her, and they were
to be married--and then came the accident----" Mrs. Goodman stopped
suddenly. "I can't bear to speak of it----"

"Try to tell me," urged Philippa. "Don't you see that I must know? I
have never heard of my aunt. I never knew that my father had a sister."

"He had one sister. They often stayed here together. She was some
years younger than he was, and he loved her dearly--until it happened."

"Until what happened?"

"The accident, and Mr. Francis' illness."

"Who is Mr. Francis?"

Mrs. Goodman dried her eyes and made a great effort at self-control.

"I will try and tell you the story from the beginning," she said. "Mr.
Francis is the Major's uncle. He is the son of Lady Louisa Heathcote,
my dear mistress, who was second wife to Richard Heathcote, the old
squire. He--the old squire--was twice married, and his first wife was
mother to William Heathcote, the Major's father. She was married to
him about ten years, and then she died, and five or six years after he
married Lady Louisa, my lady. Mr. Francis was her son, born in 1862.
He was seventeen years younger than his half-brother, Mr. William, who
was a soldier, and never lived much at home after his school-days. A
splendid boy he