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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Is it my fancy, or is there something a little familiar about that?" "I am sure that I have no idea," Philippa replied. "It conveys nothing to me." There was a brief but apparently pointless silence. Philippa's needles flashed through her wool with easy regularity. Lessingham appeared to be sharing the mild curiosity which the others showed concerning the hat.
As Princess Toto, in the weird old Elizabethan tragedy, quite forgot the circumstance of her Marriage, so Philippa might entirely forget her Murder. When we remember what women are, the latter instance of obliviousness appears the more probable. I SHALL, I am sure, scarcely be credited when I say that Philippa's unconsciousness lasted for sixteen days.
Guy's words came back to her with every rite, "God strip you of your own goodness!" and she could not wrap herself in its mantle as complacently as before. In the Abbey of Shaftesbury was one nun who drew Philippa's attention more than the others. This was a woman of about sixty years of age, whom all the convent called Mother Joan.
Philippa shrugged her shoulders. "Why don't you?" He seated himself on the couch by his wife's side. "Look here, Philippa, don't let's wrangle," he begged. "I'm afraid you'll have to make up your mind to see a good deal less of your friend Lessingham, anyway." Philippa's brows were knitted. She was conscious of a vague uneasiness. "Really? And why?"
"Hope!" exclaimed Philippa, bitterly. "What is there for me to hope? Who ever cared for me? Who ever asked me if I were happy? Nobody loves me why should I love anybody?" "`God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The words fell like cooling water on the hot fire of Philippa's bitterness; but she made no answer.
Satisfied, apparently, with his precautions, he turned towards them just as an expression of indignant enquiry broke from Philippa's lips. Helen sprang to her feet, and Philippa gripped the sides of her chair. The newcomer advanced a few steps nearer to them.
"That," replied Philippa, "is Petruchio;" and amidst a general laugh the conversation ended. Miss Byrton was the first to take her departure. Lord Arleigh lingered for some little time he was still unconvinced. The wretched, half-formed suspicion that there was something hidden beneath Philippa's manner still pursued him; he wanted to see if she was the same to him.
She questioned Evelyn regarding Mother Philippa's administration; and Evelyn disguised from her the disorder that had come into the convent, not telling how the nuns spent a great deal of time visiting each other in their cells, how in the garden some walked on one side and some on the other, how the bitterest enmities had sprung up.
"Captain Griffiths to see your ladyship." Philippa's fingers rested for a moment upon the keyboard of the piano before which she was seated, awaiting Lessingham's arrival. Then she glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to eight. "You can show him in, Mills, if he wishes to see me." Captain Griffiths was ushered into the room awkward, unwieldly, nervous as usual.
Of one thing she was quite sure there was admiration and affection in his manner, but there was nothing resembling love. He greeted her, and then took a seat, not by Philippa's side, but in one of the pretty lounging chairs by the open window. "How pleasant it is to be home again!" he said. "How pleasant, Philippa, to see you!" And then he began to talk of Lady L'Estrange.
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