"My dearest," she said, as Philippa ceased speaking, "you say that he is better and stronger now. Well, then, tell him the truth."
"I cannot do that," replied the girl firmly. "It would only make him very unhappy, even if he were strong enough to bear it."
"It might make him unhappy just for the time," rejoined Marion quickly. "But surely, oh, surely that would be better than the greater unhappiness of knowing you have deceived him. For he must find out. You cannot possibly guard him against enlightenment. Why, any day when he is able to go out he might meet some one who would make some remark quite by chance which would betray you. He needs you, he is to a certain extent dependent on you; once he knew he would--in a little while if not at once--turn to you for comfort."
"I love him too much to hurt him."
"I believe you love him, and I am sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"Because this love must bring you pain; but believe me, dearest Philippa, for his sake it would be kinder to tell him."
"I cannot see it," answered the girl rather hotly. "He is absolutely happy, absolutely contented. He knows I love him. The fact that he has made a mistake hurts nobody."
"There can be no blessing on a love which is not based on truth," said Marion gently.
"You speak as if I were defrauding some one. There is no one else to be considered. Phil is dead and gone, and the whole matter rests between him and me."
"You are defrauding him and you are defrauding yourself of the highest and best part of love, and what love should mean--confidence and trust! Philippa, let me tell him. Let me tell him, and explain your pity which misled you and which grew into love for him."
"Oh no, no!" cried the girl quickly. "It is out of the question. It would be wicked--cruel!"
"I think I had better tell him," repeated Marion persuasively.
Philippa thought a moment. "If you do he would not believe you," she said, with a little note of triumph in her voice. "I should not be afraid. Of course it is quite impossible to think of such a thing on account of the distress it would cause him. He would only be afraid it was part of the old trouble--that he was dreaming or delirious. He would never believe you."
Marion recognised the truth in this, and withdrew from that line of attack. She thought for a moment of asking Philippa what her mother's opinion would be, but on reflection decided not to mention Lady Lawson. Her intuition told her that she would hardly be the person to consider ethics, and would probably be quite willing that her daughter should follow her inclinations, always provided that the social and financial position of the man she wished to marry left nothing to be desired.