"Yes, my sweet," tranquilly answered the dear woman. She was never one to give way to fits and transports. "Mistress Curtis gave me leave to sit with you awhile. Do you feel better?" "I believe I do," I answered. "My head does not ache now, and I can see every thing clearly." It had been one of my worst annoyances that I saw all objects either double or distorted. My aunt felt my pulse and my forehead, and helped me to a drink. Then she sat down again, and for awhile I was content to lie and look at her. She had grown old a good deal, it seemed to me. And her face had a look of patient endurance which did not use to belong to it. "Aunt," I asked, presently, "where is Margaret?" "Safe, as we hope," answered Mistress Davis. "We know the vessel reached the Brill in safety, and once there, Master Hall would be among good friends." "Thank God—and how is Master Davis?" "He is well," she answered. "We were in peril for a time, but we have been unmolested." Satisfied on these points, I lay awhile longer. Then I asked again, "How is Philippa?" A smile played over Mistress Davis's face which made her look like herself again. "Why well, and more than well," said she. "Philippa is married." "Married!" I exclaimed. "Even so, and to whom, think you? To no one less than Robert Collins." "Not Robert Collins—Avice's cousin—not the one who was to have become a brother of the Charter-house," said I. "Exactly. That very Robert Collins." I burst out laughing, and somehow that laugh did seem to dissipate the last cloud from my brain. "But how did it come about? They used to bewail their hard fate together in not being allowed to take the vows." "Exactly, and they continued to bewail them till it came into their heads that since they could not take those vows they might as well try some others. Moreover, Robert came unexpectedly into quite a good estate by the death of his mother's brother. He thought it his duty to take a wife, as he was the last of his father's family, and so it came about." "I dare say Philippa persuaded herself all the time that she was making a great sacrifice?" "Oh, of course; but she was as elated at the prospect as any girl I ever saw, and as much agog for finery, especially for a silk dress. One of the first things that seemed to strike her was that, as Robert was a gentleman of landed estate, she might now wear silk and velvet." "It must be a comfort to have her—" out of the house, I was going to say, but I changed that phrase to "well settled in life." My aunt smiled. "I will not deny that it is a relief. She was one of those people of whom you can never guess what they will do next. But she has been more amiable of late, and as Robert is a good-humored man with a will of his own, I hope they may be reasonably happy." "He would need a good strong will, or none at all, to live peaceably with her," said I. "In all my life, I never saw so perverse a person."