between Philippa L'Estrange, the proud, cold woman of the world, and
that sweet little Puritan maiden at her spinning wheel?"

"I should never have detected any likeness unless you yourself had first
pointed it out," he said. "Tell me, Philippa, are you really going to
make the duke happy at last?"

"It may be that I am going to make him profoundly miserable As
punishment for your lecture, I shall refuse to tell you anything about
it," she replied; and then she added: "You will ride with me this
morning, Norman?"

"Yes. I will ride with you, Philippa. I cannot tell you how thankful and
relieved I am."

"To find that you have not made quite so many conquests as you thought,"
she said. "It was a sorry jest to play after all; but you provoked me to
it, Norman. I want you to make me a promise."

"That I will gladly do," he replied. Indeed he was so relieved so
pleased, so thankful to be freed from the load of self-reproach that he
would have promised anything.

Her face grew earnest. She held out her hand to him.

"Promise me this, Norman," she said--"that, whether I remain Philippa
L'Estrange or become Duchess of Hazlewood--no matter what I am, or may
be--you will always be the same to me as you are now--my brother, my
truest, dearest, best friend. Promise me."