Philippa

by Mrs. Molesworth

asto the social status of his fellow-traveller, and which, on firsthearing it, had struck his old friend as scarcely warranted.

  For Philippa was now completely herself, in the sense, that is to say,of having thrown off all attempt at appearing other than she really was,even while less self-controlled, more thoroughly unstrung than she hadever been before in her life.

  Yet there was something almost queenly in her bearing, as at last,resolutely choking down the sobs which still would rise, she satstraight up in her chair and looked Mrs Shepton clearly in the face.

  "I am going to tell you everything," she began. "I know you will bekind, however startled and even shocked you may feel. Mrs Shepton, myreal name is Philippa Raynsworth, I am Mrs Marmaduke Headfort'ssister."

  For a moment or two the housekeeper was too confused to take indistinctly the meaning of the words which reached her ears.

  "Sister," she repeated vaguely, while some romantic notion of"foster-sister," "adopted sister," or the like, floated through herbrain. "You don't mean really--"

  "Yes, I do," interrupted her visitor. "I am her actual, full sister.You know her name was Raynsworth before she married?"

  Mrs Shepton nodded, waiting breathlessly for further revelations.

  "I will tell you how it all came about," the girl went on, "But first ofall you must promise me to believe that it was no one's doing but myown. My father and mother are as vexed with me as they can possibly be,and Evelyn--it has been very trying for her," she was going to haveadded, but the words remained unsaid, as with a faint smile ofamusement, which even in the midst of her distress she could notaltogether suppress, she recalled the comfortable philosophy with which,once she had accepted it as a _fait accompli_, her sister had resignedherself to her new lady's-maid. "It has been," she went on, "I see now,a great risk to run for Mrs Marmaduke; if Mrs Headfort and herdaughters suspected that we have been deceiving them, I do not know whatharm might come of it."

  She glanced up tentatively at Mrs Shepton, but there was nothingreassuring in the housekeeper's grave face.

  "I can't say--" she began. "No, Miss--" and again she hesitated--"Ican't say how it might be. They are _very_ straightforward ladies--practical jokes, or wagers, or things of that sort that some peoplewould think nothing of, they would judge very sharply."

  "But you misunderstand," said Philippa, eagerly; "it is nothing of thatsort at all. You will sympathise with my motives when you hear them, Iknow, however you may blame me for what I have done. Now, please,listen, and I will tell all exactly. To begin with, we are not at allrich, and lately, with my sister's return home with the two children--all three far from strong--and other things, which will get easierbefore long, just lately we have had to be very careful and economical."

  Then with this preface she related to the housekeeper how the idea ofaccompanying her sister had first taken shape in her mind, and how onething after another had combined to make it seem both desirable andfeasible, with but infinitesimal risk of the secret ever beingdisclosed. And by the softening expression of the kind woman's face,she saw that her sympathy was enlisted.

  Then came the recital of the really extraordinary coincidences which hadaroused her misgivings in the direction of the two Greshams, especiallythe younger.

  "It is he I am so afraid of," she said, in conclusion; "though he hasnever seen me before and could not identify me as his cousin could, Idread him far more. Hitherto, I have managed to keep out of Mr BernardGresham's way, and we have only two or three days more here. But what Ihave just told you of this very morning, makes me almost certain thatMr Michael Gresham has guessed the whole, or very nearly the whole, andwhat is still worse, that in time we shall have a very severe judge--even now he may be speaking about it to his cousin or to the Headforts,probably thinking it his `duty' to do so," with a rather sarcasticemphasis on the word.

  "Not to his cousin," said Mrs Shepton. "I know enough to reassure youas to that. There is no great confidence between them."

  "They must be so very different," said Philippa.

  "_Very_ different indeed," said the housekeeper. "Nor," she went onafter this little parenthesis, "do I think it likely that Mr Michaelwill have said anything to my ladies as yet. The first person," with atouch of importance, "he would come to about it, would, I think, bemyself."

  An expression of great relief overspread Philippa's face.

  "Do you really think so?" she said. "That would be the very best thingfor me. You see, you could now tell him you know the whole--that I haveconfided it to you, but," with a sudden change of tone, as anotheraspect of the affair struck her, "do you mean, Mrs Shepton, that he hasalready talked me over with you?" And as the housekeeper did notnegative the inference to be drawn from her former words, the girl'sface grew scarlet. "What did he say or think?" she said. "It does seemso dreadfully lowering! As if I were a sort of adventuress! Was heafraid of my letting burglars into the house? I think he must be amost--officious young man!"

  In her turn the housekeeper reddened a little, but she kept herself-control.

  "My dear young lady," she began, with a slight effort. "You must notthink me officious for what I cannot help reminding you of--that all thedisagreeables which you have to bear, or may have to bear as to thisaffair, are of your own causing, and," with a very slight tremble in hervoice, "even from what you know of me, I think you might trust me not totalk over any girl--whatever her position--in any way that couldpossibly be objected to--least of all with a young gentleman, even if hewere the kindest and best in the world."

  "Which indeed," she added to herself almost inaudibly, "Master Michaelis."

  Her words brought to Philippa a quick rush of regret for her hastywords, as she recalled the affectionate relations which existed betweenher old friend and the younger Gresham.

  "Please forgive me," she said, penitently. "You have been very, verygood to me, Mrs Shepton, and you are very good to me now, in listeningand sympathising, instead of at once saying you must tell it all to MrsHeadfort, for fear of any possible blame to yourself hereafter, as manyselfish people would have done. Please forgive me, and oh, do tell mewhat I had better do."

  She clasped her hands in entreaty, and the charm of her appeal went hometo the housekeeper's heart.

  "My dear young lady," she began again, then hesitated. "I do wish toadvise you for the best, but it is very difficult. I have never heardof such a thing. I don't think I have ever even read of anything likeit in a story-book," and for the first time the humorous side of thesituation struck her. But the faint smile which this drew forth soonfaded. "I wish I were quite sure of what is right to do. I cannot bearconcealing anything that happens in this house from my masters, andyet--it is not as if your parents did not know of it, and _they_, as Iunderstand, have thought it forced upon them to keep the secret."

  For, in spite of the deception Philippa had been practising, her innatetruthfulness had impressed itself upon Mrs Shepton. Not for one momentdid she doubt the absolute accuracy of every word in the girl'snarration. "I should like," she continued, "as far as I may say sowithout presumption, to say just what your own mamma would say if shewere here and knew what things have come to."

  At the mention of her mother's name, Philippa's overstrung nerves gaveway again completely. She buried her face in her hands and burst intofresh tears.

  "Oh, Mrs Shepton," she cried, "don't speak of mamma; I can't bear it.She has never, never before in all my life been really angry with me. Iwould do anything, humble myself in any way, rather than bring furthertrouble upon her and papa."

  But for the moment there came no reply from the housekeeper, who hadstarted to her feet at the sound of a knock at the door, which in heragitation had not reached Philippa's ears.

  Nor had the intruder waited for the usual response, so confident was heof his welcome, and before Mrs Shepton could take any precaution onMiss Raynsworth's account, Michael Gresham was in the room, staring withamazement at the scene before him--amazement increased by
the sense ofthe last words she had uttered.

  And not Michael alone--indeed _his_ presence was first revealed to theweeping girl by the touch of a cold nose on the hand still covering herface as she bent forward in her chair. For Solomon's ready sympathy wasnot restrained by any fear of intrusion; something was the matter with asome one he was attached to, and he must at once see to it, and offerall the comfort in his power.

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  AN APPEAL.

  "Solomon!" exclaimed Philippa, looking up with a start, "how have you--"But the rest of the