“Sir Philip, do you really mean it? Is it not only that you are sorry for me? I—you are very kind—but I couldn’t bear for you only to be sorry for me!”
“My darling—what a way to put it! Sorry for you—my princess! No indeed! I shall be sorry for myself, if—but it’s not going to be that. Ella, you will try to care for me, won’t you?”
“I don’t need to try,” she answered gently. “It wouldn’t be worthy of you if any trying were needed. Oh, Philip—if you are sure you mean it—I have been so unhappy. I was so ashamed of—of caring for you—”
“Ashamed,” Philip interrupted.
“Yes—for I thought you cared for—I thought at least you were going to marry—Ermine. That was how I misjudged Madelene. That was the great reason why I went away.”
Philip’s face cleared; a good many mists were dispersed by these words of Ella’s.
“But when you knew that wasn’t true—up to this morning even, why were you so strange and cold to me?” he asked.
“Because there was something you said about my being an obstacle or a difficulty—and of course I had no reason to think you cared for me, even if you did not for Ermine. Philip,” with a sudden thought, “if this is to be—you and me, I mean—will it make it easier for Madelene to marry Captain Omar?”
Philip nodded.
“She will think so, I have no doubt. Though really and truly there was nothing to prevent it. But your father since his losses has got morbid about your future, and Madelene has got morbid too in another way; self-sacrifice seemed the readiest means of cutting the knot, and so she has persuaded herself that it was her duty. But now—”