"Dickie is getting better every day," Marion went on. "Of course we shall have to be careful of him for a long time, but I quite hope we shall be home in a fortnight or three weeks. I shall be glad to be here. I do not think you ought to be alone--without any woman with you, I mean. It has been too unfortunate." "I have made friends with Isabella Vernon," said Philippa. "Looking back, it seems incredible that the time has been so short--so much has happened. I seem to have known her for years." "Who is Isabella Vernon?" asked Marion in surprise. Philippa explained, and for a moment a hope shot through Marion's mind that this woman might succeed where she had failed. "What does she think of it all?" she asked rather nervously. "She entirely agrees with me, because--you see--she has loved Francis all her life, and she only thinks of him." Marion sighed with disappointment. If that was the case any appeal for interference from that quarter was useless. "She would come if I wanted her," continued Philippa, "and I see her fairly constantly." And with that Marion was forced to be content. As she journeyed back again that evening her thoughts hovered anxiously between her child in his weakness and her friend in her mistaken contentment. If only it were possible to divide herself, she thought piteously, between these two who both needed her so much! But, after all, did Philippa need her? Not consciously, certainly, and yet Marion told herself miserably that things would never have tangled themselves into this knot if she had been at Bessacre. She could not leave Dickie, for even his father could not satisfy him for any length of time. It was his mother he clung to in the weariness of convalescence, and it was out of the question to move him yet. There was nothing to do but to let things take their course. For a moment she had an idea of sending her husband home, but after all what could Bill do? There was not much chance of his being able to persuade Philippa where she had failed, and, indeed, Bill had already made one effort in that direction, and was by no means over-anxious to undertake a second attempt to stem the torrent of a woman's will. CHAPTER XIX HALCYON DAYS "Love keeps his revels where there are but twain."--_Venus and Adonis_. Even Dr. Gale, who constantly preached caution lest strength should be over-taxed, could find no fault with Francis' progress during these halcyon days of happiness. There was a wide terrace on the sunny side of the house, just below his rooms, and there, whenever the weather permitted, he and Philippa would spend the warmest morning hours. Francis was carried down-stairs in obedience to the doctor's orders, but once on the level he was allowed to walk a little. Leaning on her arm he was able to accomplish the length of the house, but that had up to the present been all that he had been equal to.