East of the Shadows

by Mrs. Hubert Barclay

"I think I had better tell him," repeated Marion persuasively.

Philippa thought a moment. "If you do he would not believe you," she said, with a little note of triumph in her voice. "I should not be afraid. Of course it is quite impossible to think of such a thing on account of the distress it would cause him. He would only be afraid it was part of the old trouble—that he was dreaming or delirious. He would never believe you."

Marion recognised the truth in this, and withdrew from that line of attack. She thought for a moment of asking Philippa what her mother's opinion would be, but on reflection decided not to mention Lady Lawson. Her intuition told her that she would hardly be the person to consider ethics, and would probably be quite willing that her daughter should follow her inclinations, always provided that the social and financial position of the man she wished to marry left nothing to be desired.

Philippa rose from her seat and took two or three steps across the room; then she turned and faced her friend.

"I cannot tell you, dear, how sorry I am that you and I should differ over this. But nothing you can say will make me alter my mind. I am absolutely positive that what I am doing is best for Francis, and I only wish I could make you think so too. Do you imagine that I would do anything that was not for his good—I who love him so much? Of course I wouldn't. I would not have promised to marry him if I had not cared for him. I could not have done such a thing. It would have been a dreadful position, and I can't bear to think of what it would have meant. But after all there is no reason to think of it now. I love him and I will be his most loving wife. My every thought shall be devoted to him and to taking care of him. I only wish you could see him. Perhaps then you would understand. But it is not possible. It is most important that he should not be worried or disturbed, and if he saw you he might worry because he did not remember you. I know there will be difficulties, but I am confident they can be overcome. We shall be married very quietly in a month or six weeks' time. I haven't written to my mother about it yet, but, of course, I will do so when it is definitely settled. Then I shall take Francis abroad to some quiet, sunny place, where he will not be in the least likely to see any one he knew before his illness. The doctor says that will be the best thing for him."

"I blame Dr. Gale very much," interrupted Marion.

"I don't think you need," rejoined Philippa with a little smile, "the poor man is quite penitent enough already. And, indeed, although he had something to do with it at first, he has nothing to do with it now. He took much the same line as you do when it came to the question of marriage, but I explained to him that it was my affair, and no one else's. Marion, it is not as if I was a child. I am of an age to decide for myself. And, of course, the doctor was only thinking of me. He knows well enough that it is the best possible thing for Francis. Don't look so dreadfully unhappy!" she said in a lighter tone, for Marion's pretty round face was flushed and drawn and her eyes were full of tears. "Dear," she added affectionately, "if you knew how happy I was, I think you would rejoice, and not be so full of dismal forebodings. I love him and he loves me, and nothing else matters."

Marion's face paled. It was an effort to speak the words which had been on her lips for some moments, for to her it seemed that they must deal Philippa a blow which she would thankfully have spared her, a blow which must surely dissolve the girl's castle of dreams into dust. But she did not flinch.

"He does not love you," she said sternly.

Philippa started; then she gave a low laugh of content.