East of the Shadows

by Mrs. Hubert Barclay

"Phil, darling, this is the place. I know now why you brought me here. It was so dear of you to think of it." He laid his hand on hers, and then lowered his voice as the groom who had been walking behind the carriage came forward to the pony's head. "Hang the man!" he said boyishly, "let him wait here while we go on a little further. I want to talk to you. Oh, I can see you now. We had been walking up the field. It was planted with turnips, and a rabbit ran out just here. Then—oh, sweetheart, I am glad to have remembered. It is one more memory of you. It was the happiest day of my life. You had on a scarlet cap. I wish you had put it on to-day—I always loved you in it."

A little chill of some inexplicable feeling ran through Philippa. It was not dismay, for he had often alluded to some detail of Phil's appearance which he recalled. She had never failed to satisfy him with some light answer—she could not make it out. However, it was gone in a moment, and she listened again to what he was saying.

"Don't think me silly, darling, but I had waited so long for you. Surely you like to remember it too—the day you gave yourself to me. I had given you my heart long before, and you have it still. Oh, I am glad to have seen this place again."

"It is most beautiful," she agreed. "Look at the line of the sea—how wonderfully blue it is. You can see the smoke of a steamer on the horizon—over there." She pointed with the whip in her hand. "When I was a child I used to watch the ships, and make up all sorts of stories as to where they were going and the wonderful adventures they would meet with—pirates and desert islands and shipwrecks and sea-serpents. I think I must have had a very vivid imagination. But my stories always ended up happily. After endless perils and hairbreadth escapes my vessels sailed home laden with treasure. Where is that ship going, and what sort of passengers does she carry? I wonder if they are all very unhappy at leaving England, or full of hope about the new land they are going to?"

"Perhaps they are bound for the Magical Island," Francis said, smiling. "Is it north, south, east or west, that fairyland? And is it really more beautiful than Bessmoor after all? Just think of it. If I hadn't been ill we might be there now, and by this time I should have discovered your secret. Tell me where it is, darling."

"No, no," she replied, laughing. "I won't tell you. You want to know too much. You must be patient. It is to be a surprise for you."

"I wish we were sailing there now, in that ship over there," he said. "But anyway I am sure of one thing, and that is that even on the Magical Island we couldn't be happier than we are now."

"No, I don't think we could," assented Philippa, in a tone of great contentment.

"I cannot say how glad I am that we should have come here for our first drive together since all the shadows rolled away. It seems right, somehow. Thank you, dear one, for bringing me. It is a perfect spot, isn't it? It seems a worthy setting for the perfect joy which came to me here. Phil, I wonder—when you promised to marry me—here—standing by that gate—did you love me as much as you do now?"

Again that curious chill ran through the girl, but this time it was much more definite, so strong that it gave her a feeling of physical sickness. It was only with an effort that she could wrench her mind free from the grip of it and answer calmly and with perfect truth, "I have never loved you so well as I do to-day."