It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she who had everything the
world could give--beauty, health, wealth, fortune--should ask but this
one gift, and that it should be refused her.

She watched the stars until they faded from the skies and then she
buried her face in the pillow and sobbed herself to sleep.




Chapter XII.



It was when the sun, shining into her room, reached her that an idea
occurred to Philippa which was like the up-springing of new life to her.
All was not yet lost. He did not love her--he had not thought of making
her his wife; but it did not follow that he would never do so. What had
not patience and perseverance accomplished before now? What had not love
won?

He had acknowledged that she was beautiful; he had owned to her often
how much he admired her. So much granted, was it impossible that he
should learn to love her? She told herself that she would take
courage--that she would persevere--that her great love must in time
prevail, and that she would devote her life unweariedly to it.

She would carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance. She would
never let him find her dull or unhappy. Men liked to be amused. She