WHITEWASH
dom and duty bid me depart, and yet, I have not the courage to go."
Philippa experienced one of the few real sensations of her life. The stab of this announcement so surprised her by its acute pain that she turned white to the lips, and the jarring of the carriage having displaced her hat, she did not think to readjust it—an oversight not to be credited by those who knew her well. She was silent a moment, unwilling to trust her voice. At last she moistened her lips and managed to ask "Why?" with a poor semblance of carelessness.
"First my work, my duty, then—because—as you must have realized, dear,—because I love you, and I must not interfere with your life and your future. I have nothing to offer; my fortune is pledged to the cause. I am practically banished, I live a life of forced concealment and intrigue that must make me everywhere, sooner or later, an object of suspicion. I can never hope for any real position to offer you. Besides, I have made you my ideal. I want to see you realize the hopes I have of you. I must see you queen among women, the courted, fêted, admired leader of your
