"I spent the day on Bessmoor," she told him. "It was lovely up there. The clouds were beautiful--dark masses like mountains, and patches of brilliant blue sky behind them. The ling is coming into bloom, and you cannot imagine anything so vivid as it appears where the sunlight catches it, and all the world seemed so fresh and clean after the rain." "I can picture it. The fragrance and freshness of the moor. You did not get wet, I hope?" "No, I was under shelter. It was a heavy shower, but it didn't last long." "Were you alone?" he asked. He was sitting close beside her on the sofa, with his arm thrown along the back of it behind her head. "No--I was with a friend," she replied. "Who was it?" he asked lightly. "Shall I be jealous that a friend was with you when I wasn't?" "I was with Isabella Vernon." As soon as the words were spoken a sudden fear seized her, but it was too late to recall them. "Dear old Isabella!" he said. "How was she? It seems ages since I have seen her." But he did not wait for an answer to his question, but continued, "You would be safe with her. Isabella was always a good friend. Do you know, I have a piece of news for you? Rob said to-day that unless I had another set-back I might go down-stairs in a day or two." "That is good news indeed," said Philippa warmly. "And soon you will be able to go out and see all the beauty of Bessmoor for yourself. We will have the pony-carriage and I will drive you--as soon as ever he thinks you are fit for it." "I suppose he wouldn't let me get on a horse?" he said, rather wistfully. "Not for a while, I am afraid. I know it is difficult to be patient, but driving will be almost as good, won't it?" "Dearest, of course it will be better than anything so long as you are with me. Believe me I am not impatient. I want nothing in the world but you--I didn't mean that. What do I care if I never see a horse again? Do you know, my darling, I wouldn't really mind if I never got quite strong so long as we were together, but I can't bear it for you. You are so good, so dear, but I know you must feel tied to the side of an invalid. You who ought to have nothing but the sunshine of life, and who should never know a hint of shadow if I could spare it you." "I have told you that you must not think of me," replied the girl. "Now, if you will lie down I will get my work. I have been very idle to-day." He allowed her to place the cushions and establish him in comfort, and then she fetched her embroidery frame from the corner where it stood and seated herself in a low chair beside him. "Phil," he said suddenly, "you are changed." "In what way?" she asked quietly.