He never forgot the picture that then presented itself--the clear deep water, the green trees, and the beautiful face looking at him.
"Norman," she said, in a clear, low voice, "I want to tell you that I overheard all that you said to the Duchess of Aytoun.

I could not help it--I was so near to you." She was taking the difficulty into her own hands! He felt most thankful.
"Did you, Philippa?
I thought you were engrossed with the gallant captain." "Did you really and in all truth mean what you said to her ?" she asked.
"Certainly; you know me well enough to be quite sure that I never say what I do not mean." "You have never yet seen the woman whom you would ask to be your wife ?" she said.
There was a brief silence, and then he replied: "No, in all truth, I have not, Philippa." A little bird was singing on a swaying bough just above them--to the last day of her life it seemed to her that she remembered the notes.

The sultry silence seemed to deepen.

She broke it.
"But, Norman," she said, in a low voice, "have you not seen me ?" He tried to laugh to hide his embarrassment, but it was a failure.
"I have seen you--and I admire you.

I have all the affection of a brother for you, Philippa--" and then he paused abruptly.
"But," she supplied, "you have never thought of making me your wife?
Speak to me quite frankly, Norman." "No, Philippa, I have not." "As matters stand between us, they require explanation," she said; and he saw her lips grow pale.