‘I don’t know what to say to you, sir, who have deceived us all these months; but I can’t help being very glad you did, for I’m sure things would never have been so comfortably arranged if it had been Phil, not you, who had had the first settling to manage. I am ever so much obliged to you—Mr. Torwood.’ And she held out her hand, which he took, and kept possession of, whilst he looked long and smilingly into her downcast face. ‘Thank you, Miss Debenham,’ he said, releasing her; ‘I am glad you have not cast me off altogether, in indignation at my deception. I have no intention of being cast off, I can tell you; and I shall lay claim to my privilege of a walk round the garden with you after breakfast, as usual.’ ‘Very well,’ said Maud. Her face suddenly crimsoned, and she hastily retired to her own seat behind the sheltering urn. Her feelings were in such a tumult, that it was no wonder she desired to elude observation and give herself time to recover. ‘But who and what was Signor Pagliadini?’ cried Miss Marjory, when a little of the hubbub had subsided, and all had returned to their seats. ‘Signora,’ said Phil, in his polished Italian, ‘you see now before you that misguided man, whom you so mercilessly frightened by trying to strip him of his disguise, before the time had come.’ ‘You Signor Pagliadini!’ exclaimed Miss Marjory. ‘Why, I shouldn’t have thought you’d have the brains to play the part so well!’ ‘Exactly what my friend Tor told me. It’s a great thing to have a faithful friend, isn’t it? I see he has been faithful in his delineation of my character to you. It is gratifying to my vanity to have successfully deceived two such clever people.’ ‘You’d not have deceived me if I’d ever seen you as you are,’ answered Miss Marjory stoutly. ‘No, I don’t believe I should,’ Phil assented readily. ‘Miss Marjory, you nearly frightened me into a fit at Maud’s majority dinner.’ ‘I wish I’d frightened you more,’ returned she viciously. ‘You’ve not got half what you deserve, practising on the credulity of honest people, and making us all so uncomfortable. What did you do it for?’ ‘Because I was an ass—a dignified jackass, as Tor has so aptly described me. I can’t resent the description, because it’s true to the life. I’ll tell you all about it soon; but let me enjoy myself now.’ ‘The dear boy!’ murmured Mrs. Lorraine tenderly. ‘The dear, dear boy! So like his father! Poor dear Philip—if only he could have lived to see this day!’ ‘Aunt Olive, you’ve not changed a bit,’ cried Phil. ‘You’re just as pretty as ever. Do you remember how I used to upset your workbasket every day, and tell you not to mind, because I’d marry you when I’d grown as big as you?’ ‘Bless you, I remember it like yesterday,’ answered Mrs. Lorraine, with tears in her eyes.