"It will surprise you, I suppose," she said, with her daring laugh again; "but listen. Do not interrupt me. Well, sir, once upon a time--you see I begin in true tale fashion--once upon a time, there was a young girl who had the misfortune to be very rich. She had been left an orphan at an early age, and never knew the love and tenderness of parents. Well, sir, as was very natural, this young woman, with all her wealth, experienced one want--but that was a great one--the necessity of having some one to love her. I will be brief, sir--let me go on uninterruptedly. One day this young woman saw pass before her a man whose eyes and words proved that he had some affection for her--enough that it was afterwards shown that she was not mistaken. At the time, however, she doubted his affection. Her unhappy wealth had made her suspicious, and she experienced a sort of horror of giving her heart to some one who loved her wealth and not herself. Let me go on, sir! I must not be interrupted! Well, she doubted this gentleman; and one day said to him what she afterwards bitterly regretted. She determined to charge him with mercenary intentions, and watch his looks and listen to his words, and test him. He listened, replied coldly, and departed, leaving her nearly heart-broken, for his nature was not one which any woman could despise." Mowbray looked at her strangely. She went on. "She watched for him day after day--he did not come. She was angry, and yet troubled; she doubted, and yet tried to justify herself. But even when he left her, she had conceived a mad scheme--it was to go and become his companion, and so test him. This she did, assuming the dress of a man: was it not very indelicate, sir, and could she have been a lady? I see you start--but do not interrupt me. Let me go on. The young woman assumed, as I said, an impenetrable disguise--ingratiated herself with him, and found out all his secrets. The precious secret which she had thus braved conventionality to discover, was her own. He loved her--yes! he loved her!" said the young girl, with a tremor of the voice and a beating heart; "she could not be mistaken! In moments of unreserve, of confidence, he told her all, as one friend tells another, and she knew that she was loved. Then she threw off her disguise--finding him noble and sincere--and came to him and told him all. She saw that he was incredulous--could not realize such indelicacies in the woman he loved; and to make her humiliation complete, she proved to him, by producing a trifle he had given her, in her disguise--like this, sir." And Philippa with a trembling hand drew forth the fringed gloves which she had procured from Mowbray at the Indian Camp. They fell from her outstretched hand--it shook. Mowbray was pale, and his eyes were full of wonder.