The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-11-07
went ont and shut the door behind him, and she
was alone.
CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVII
| She put her hand to her side and held it there.
| sharp physical pain had seized upon her, but
she scarcely recognized that it was physical
| now" she said, in hard, dry voice, now
must go back to London"
This was the first thought which occurred to
| her. She was so far stunned, that she could only
think, in blind, dull way II was all over here
| at least She must go away 1t was disgrace
and exposure, which had come upon her. She
nao been exposed, as she had heard of common
adventuresses beingl They thought she was like
| SUCH women-they believed tina: she had lied
and tricked them aud that she would lie and
trick them again, if she was allowed to stay
| Even Wilfred, even Wilfred, who loved-no,
| who had loved her!
She began to 500 like child who has been
nurt-sharp, quivering sobs.
/ Il must go back to London she said. Il
must go today must go up stairs, and begin
| to get ready now"
With this purpose in her mind she left the
room She had not many things to pack up. but
she began to put them into her trunk at once
| Her hands trembled as she did il, and she felt
| driven and hurried. 1t really seemed to her
| That she was in a hurry and must 60 away as
| soon as possible. She wondered how long it
would be before Mrs. Dorothy would come-if
| she would come at alI-what she would say
when she did come-how she would look
/ whether she would be angry cold or disdain-
| full.
L
sessions she sat down and waited. 1t was upon
the top of her trunk she sat. and she was sitting
there, numb and helpless, when she heard Mrs
| Dorothy's knock upon the door.
| Come in" she said, and Mrs Dorothy en-
tered.
Mrs. Dorothy gave hurried glance around
the room. She saw that every stray article had
| disappeared And there was the box and Phil,
pale and tremblins, and looking more than
| ordinarily girlish as she sat upon it. Wounded
| and heartsore as size was, the good gentlewomen
| was touched by the sight
'Philippa," she faltered, "what have you been
doing?"
II have been getting ready to go away" was
They looked at each other fer moment, and
| then Phil answered the question in the sad
eyes.
II must CO." she said, with one of the childish
| sobs Il must go, you know. There-there is
| no one here who can want me now 1t is all
true what Wifred has told yo. though am not
| so bad as you think"
Mrs. Dorothys eyes were moist, also. Her
| kindly voice shook with emotion.
| 'Philippa," she said, II cannot believe that
| you could wrong me So"
Il have not wronged you" said Phil II tell
you have been truer than you think"
| And yet you came here with a purpose, and
| you bore it in mind, even when my poor boy
loved you So"
Mono" Phil cried. 'Oh, you must believe
me-you must"
She crossed the room and stood before Mrs.
Dorothy. She held out her hands, sobbing pas
| sionately.
You must believe me- she said II shall
die, If YOU do not. could not tell him, because
he would not listen and could not speak to him
as can to you He said had told lies from the
first but did not. If l was weak and false
when came, you made me ashamed of my false
| hood and taught me to wish to be true. And it
was not lie to say that loved you-it was the
truth-for did love you and do, and l shall
w al And "a ,lc.A
night that we were so near to each other, and SO
| happy. And he belved even that was lie and
a pretense. but-but it was not. If all else was
| false, that WAS true-the truest truth of ALL
| Before she had finished, she was down on her
knees, holding fast to Mrs Dorothy's dress and
hiding her face in it. The pity and relenting in
the kind eyes, bad told her that she would not
| be repulsed.
But you see that must go away" she went
on. "You see that nothing 1 could cay would
ever bring his faith back. lie could never trust
| me again. never-never"
"Phil, my DEAR" said Mrs Dorothy, chow has
it been possible? Nay. 1 cannot believe yet that
such thing was possible for you"
| "Don't ask me any questions" said Phil. 81
cannot answer them-that is the worst of ALL
Only believe that am not so base and treacher-
| Gus as you thought at first am going away
forever and we shall never see each other again.
| Try and think as well of me as you can"
This all she would say Deep as her
wrong was, she shrank from telling the whole
truth During the whole of her interview with
her old friend, she studiously avoided all men
ton OF her fathers name. But Mrs. Dorothy
was not dull or blind Even when Wilfred had
been pouring out his miserable, incoherent story,
| she had begun to conjecture in the midst of her
grief Hers was the cooler head of the two she
was not so wholly swayed by passion that she
had no room for thought And her first clear
thought, had been a mental query, as to whether.
Notwithstanding appearances, such plot as this
could have been the plot of girl of nineteen
and such girl as Philppa9 Bright and daring
| as she was, the child could scarcely have played
a part so we'll. She would have been apt
to everyday it, at the best. She would
| have been more coquettish, less ftful:
there would have been more womanly airs and
graces, less fanciful girlshness and fewer idle
whims But she had let Wilfred end his rawlings
She knew that he was not in the mood to listen.
even had she been in the mood to speak And
just yet she was not But there had been an
older brain than Phils at work-an older and
more worldly one. OF that she had felt con
| WINGED. Still she felt that Phil had adopted the
only course lsft to her.
| You see, must go away" she said fever
ishly and helpessly. over and over again
And Mrs. Dorothys answer was: Eyes, !
think you must"
CHAPTER XVIII.
| And before the day closed she was gone.
There were no farewells to be said. Mr. Far
| quhar and Duval were absent, and Will was
locked up in his room-iyine upon sofa. look
ing out of the window. with burning eyes The
hill thay had climbed together rose up against
the blue sky to mock him. From where he lay
he could see the very spot upon which they had
stood when he kissed her and told that the
| world seemed bright to him. More than once
he closed his eyes to shut out the sight, but
they always opened again with greater misery
He heard the carriage roll round and stop be-
| fore the hall door; he heard the servants bring
| ing the one small trunk down stairs; he heard
| Philippa follow it alone, and then there was a
| murmur of wholesome of them Mrs. Dorothys.
and then the carriage door closed with a snap.
| and the wheels moved on-down the avenue.
| until their sound was lost
| He turned over upon his cushion and lay face
! downwards
'Sne has gone,' he said 'This is she end of