"I wish there was somethin' I could do to help 'em," she thought. "That pretty critter can't do a thing against Mr. Philip's determination if he's set out. I know him."
"Why was Kathleen so exquisite?" asked Mrs. Wright as Eliza came in.
"Settin' for her portrait," answered Eliza absently. "Said she was too dressed up to come and see you, but would come to-morrow."
"She was a picture already, coming bareheaded through that flowery field," said Mrs. Wright.
Eliza did not respond. She disappeared into her own room and closed the door. Then she unlocked her trunk and took from its depths a package which she untied, disclosing a fine camel's-hair shawl. She unfolded it with loving fingers, and regarded it. "A good enough weddin' present even for her," she muttered.
Then she reached into another corner and took out a tin box which she unlocked and drew forth a tiny velvet case, rubbed and worn. When she opened this, tears rushed to her eyes and she lifted it to her lips. "Nothin' could make you so happy, my dear one," she murmured brokenly. "Nothin'! Nothin'!"
Half an hour later Eliza entered the Villa. Pat was doing some scraping of palette knives in the kitchen. She looked timidly out on the terrace. A lovely living picture met her eyes. Kathleen was sitting on the white railing, her filmy gown falling in folds at her feet. Behind her rose the bay-crowned pillar casting shadows on the red-glints of her hair.
"Mr. Philip, please excuse me," said Eliza humbly; "but could you spare Pat to go on an errand for us?"