"I congratulate you again," he said, and left them. Philip stood for a moment in silence by the girl, looking at her with a sort of shy, longing wonder. "Ah, what luck!" he said at length. "What stupendous and perfect luck." "What is luck, Philip?" she asked. "Why, this. You and me. Think of the chances against my meeting you in this big world, and think of the chances against your saying 'Yes.' But now--now that it has happened it couldn't have been otherwise." Some vague, nameless trouble took possession of the girl, and she shivered slightly. "You are cold, my darling?" he said quickly. She had been leaning against the stone balustrade of the terrace, but stood upright, close to him. "No, not in the least," she said. "What is it, then?" he asked. "It is nothing. Only I suppose I feel it is strange that in a moment the whole future course of one's life is changed like this." He took her hands in his, and the authentic fire of love burned in his eyes. "Strange?" he said. "Is it not the most wonderful of miracles? I never knew anything so wonderful could happen. It makes all the rest of my life seem dim. There is just this one huge beacon of light. All the rest is in shadow." She raised her face to him half imploringly. "Oh, Philip, is it all that to you?" she asked. "I--I am afraid." "Because you have made me the happiest man alive?" A sudden, inevitable impulse of honesty prompted Madge to speak out. "No, but because I have perhaps meddled with great forces about which I know nothing. I like you immensely; I have never liked anyone so much. I esteem you and respect you. I am quite willing to lead the rest of my life with you; I want nothing different. But will that do? Is that enough? I have never loved as I believe you love me. I do not think it is possible to me. There, I have told you." Philip raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Ah, my dearest, you give me all you have and are, and yet you say, 'Is that enough?'" he whispered. "What more is possible?" She looked at him a moment, the trouble not yet quite gone from her face. Then she raised it to his. "Then take it," she said. The night was very warm and windless, and for some time longer they walked up and down, or stood resting against the terrace wall looking down over the hushed woods. A nightingale, the same perhaps that had been charmed to Tom's finger two evenings ago, poured out liquid melody, and the moon began to rise in the East. Gradually their talk veered to other subjects, and Madge mentioned that Evelyn was willing to do her portrait. "He will begin at once," she said, "because it appears his impression of me isn't a thing that will keep. He is putting off another order for it." "That is dreadfully immoral," said Philip, "but I am delighted to hear it." "Oh, and another thing. He gives it us--to you and me I think he said--as a wedding present."