the different flirtations--Philippa in her usual bright, laughing,
half-sarcastic fashion, with the keen sense of humor that was peculiar
to her. Lord Arleigh could not see that there was any effort in her
conversation; he could not see the least shadow on her brightness; and
at heart he was thankful.

When he was going away, she asked him about riding on the morrow just as
usual. He could not see the slightest difference in her manner. That
unpleasant little conversation on the lake might never have taken place
for all the remembrance of it that seemed to trouble her. Then, when he
rose to take his leave, she held out her hand with a bright, amused
expression.

"Good-night, _Petruchio_," she said. "I am pleased at the name I have
found for you."

"I am not so sure that it is appropriate," he rejoined. "I think on the
whole I would rather love a _Juliet_ than tame a shrew."

"It may be in the book of fate that you will do both," she observed; and
they parted, laughing at the idea.

To the last the light shone in her eyes, and the scarlet lips were
wreathed in smiles; but, when the door had closed behind him and she was
alone, the haggard, terrible change that fell over the young face was
painful to see. The light, the youth, the beauty seemed all to fade from
it; it grew white, stricken, as though the pain of death were upon her.
She clasped her hands as one who had lost all hope.

"How am I to bear it?" she cried. "What am I to do?" She looked round