CHAPTER XII.
It was when the sun, shining into her room, reached her that an idea occurred to Philippa which was like the up-springing of new life to her.
All was not yet lost.

He did not love her--he had not thought of making her his wife; but it did not follow that he would never do so.

What had not patience and perseverance accomplished before now?
What had not love won?
He had acknowledged that she was beautiful; he had owned to her often how much he admired her.

So much granted, was it impossible that he should learn to love her?
She told herself that she would take courage--that she would persevere--that her great love must in time prevail, and that she would devote her life unweariedly to it.
She would carefully hide all traces of pique or annoyance.

She would never let him find her dull or unhappy.