"I wonder what made me go there to-day," he continued thoughtfully. "I was sitting waiting for you, when suddenly something seemed to tell me to go into the churchyard--and just inside the gate I saw her grave--and then I knew. It was just as if a veil had been torn from my eyes--and still I could not understand. For mother was not old when I saw her last. I was afraid I was mad, until Isabella explained. And I thought and thought while I was waiting, and I knew you could not be Phil, for although you are exactly like my memory of her--in face--she would be much older. And there had been little things which puzzled me--which are clear now--about you, I mean. Phil could never have been content to stay indoors all day as you have--she was always a restless fairy thing--I never remember her still for long--and you are always working. Phil never did. Oh, I can find many little differences now. "I cannot think of her as dead--she was so bright--so happy. She is dead--and I have lived on all these years. I wonder that I did not know that she was dead. I ought to have known it, for I loved her so. And all our love lately has been only a dream--and we were so happy. Oh, why was I not told the truth? why did you not let me die? It would have been kinder than to let me live to find out for myself--that she is gone--and I am all alone." Philippa slipped down upon her knees beside the couch, and cried passionately, "Oh no, you are not all alone--we have been so happy--I have made you happy. Can we not be happy again? I love you so--have you no love for me?" She was sobbing now, with her face hidden in her hands. "I do not know," he said. "It is Phil I love--I loved you when I thought that you were Phil. My dear, my dear, how can I disentangle the present from the past?" "Then do not try," she pleaded, raising her tear-stained face. "Oh, Francis, let us be happy again; let me make you happy. Think of me as Phil if you will--but let us dream again the dream we found so sweet. I love you so, and I will comfort you. Think of all we had planned. Shall we not grasp our dream and make it real? If I may be your wife--as you asked me--we will go together to the place where it is always sunshine and you will find that life can hold brightness. I will make it bright for you. You remember it was all arranged, we were to go to the Magical Island--that was what you called it. Do not send me away from you." He looked at her pityingly. "My dear," he said gently, "it was only a dream--a dream and a delusion. It is not possible--you are only a child, while I am old. You are Jim's girl, and Jim was my boyhood's friend. Your life is all before you, while mine is near the ending--and--it is Phil I love."