“I have been shopping early, Philip,” she said, smiling up at him. “I am going to Fairlight Glen to a picnic this afternoon, and I had to get a new parasol to match my dress. I wish you were going! Oh, father was so horrid about Captain Arbuthnot going home last night! I do hope he doesn’t find out! But no one knows but you, and you won’t tell.”
“What about the clergyman who married you?” asked Philip.
“He was a stranger—taking duty, and you know that father goes to Blacklands Church, though St. Clement’s is our parish. But I must go. I have lots of things to do.”
Philip watched her as she tripped away in the sunshine, and his heart misgave him. There was trouble in store for little Phyllis he felt sure—and possibly for Arbuthnot. What a fool Arbuthnot had shown himself!
But then!—a man in love—what will he not do? Had Eweretta lived, would he not have been as wax in her dear little brown hands?
The thought of those brown hands brought a mist before his eyes. He saw her before him in all her young, joyous beauty. The rich coloring on her sun-kissed face; the dark masses of her hair; her wonderful dark eyes. He had been wont to call her his prairie flower.
He had a wild longing to see her half-sister, whom he had heard so exactly resembled her. He would be kind to Aimée Le Breton for her sake. But should he ever find her? She had disappeared from Qu’Appelle so completely. Philip, as he walked towards the “Old Town,” had an odd feeling of being outside life. His life seemed to be ended, while he still remained to haunt the places where he had formerly lived. Reality seemed to have given place to something dreamlike. Outwardly he was the same Philip, except that he was graver. But inwardly he felt himself a sort of ghost, that took part in a life in which it had no real place.
He was really keen about the bungalow. He wanted to drown himself in work. Work was the only real panacea when the heart sorrowed. He did not wear his heart on his sleeve, however, not being built that way.
As he was passing the two yachts (known as the Albertines), he was suddenly accosted by Colonel Lane.
“Have you seen Phyllis?” demanded the Colonel. “An old flame of hers—Herbert Langridge—has just turned up unexpectedly. He is staying at the ‘Albany.’ Should not wonder if he is come to try his luck once more!”