Philip went out of his father's study considerably touched by the
kindness and consideration with which he had been treated, and not a
little relieved to find his position with reference to his succession
to the estate so much better than he had anticipated, and his cousin
George's so much worse.

"That red-haired fox has plotted in vain," he thought, with secret
exultation. And then he set himself to consider the desirability of
falling in with his father's wishes as regards marriage. Of Maria he
was, as the reader is aware, very fond; indeed, a few years before he
had been in love with her, or something very like it; he knew too that
she would make him a very good wife, and the match was one that in
every way commended itself to his common sense and his interests. Yes,
he would certainly take his father's advice. But every time he said
this to himself--and he said it pretty often that evening--there would
arise before his mind's eye a vision of the sweet blue eyes of Miss
Lee's stately companion. What eyes they were, to be sure! It made
Philip's blood run warm and quick merely to think of them; indeed, he
could almost find it in his heart to wish that Hilda was Maria and
Maria was in Hilda's shoes.

What between thoughts of the young lady he had set himself to marry,
and of the young lady he did not mean to marry, but whose eyes he
admired, Philip did not sleep so well as usual that night.



CHAPTER V