Do you know," he said, "that it is only now that I begin to recognize my old friend?
At first you seemed so unsympathetic, so cold--now you are my sister Philippa the sharer of my joys and sorrows.

We had no secrets when we were children." "No," she agreed, mournfully, "none." "And we have none now," he said, with a happy laugh.

"How astonished Vere will be when he returns and finds that Madaline is married! And I think that, if it can be all arranged without any great blow to his family pride, he will not be ill-pleased." "I should think not," she returned, listlessly.
"And you, Philippa--you will extend to my beloved wife the friendship and affection that you have given to me ?" "Yes," she replied, absently.
"Continue to be her fairy-godmother.

There is no friend who can do as you can do.

You will be Madaline's sheet-anchor and great hope." She turned away with a shudder.
"Philippa," he continued, "will you let me send Lady Peters to you now, that I may know as soon as possible whether she consents ?" "You can send her if you will, Norman." Was it his fancy, or did he really, as he stood at the door, hear a deep, heart-broken sigh?
Did her voice, in a sad, low wail, come to him--"Norman, Norman!" He turned quickly[5], but she seemed already to have forgotten him, and was looking through the open window.
Was it his fancy again, when the door had closed, or did she really cry--"Norman!" He opened the door quickly.
"Did you call me, Philippa ?" he asked.
"No," she replied; and he went away.
"I do not understand it," he thought; "there is something not quite right.