Philip Oswald," had been Caroline Danby's
order to the servant this morning; and thus when she was told, at twelve
o'clock, that that gentleman awaited her in the drawing-room, she had
heard nothing more of the fire than her father and the morning paper had
communicated. As she entered, Philip arose to greet her, but though he
strove to smile as his eyes met hers, the effort was vain; and throwing
himself back on the sofa, he covered his face with his hand, as though
to hide his pallor and the convulsive quivering of his lips from her
whom he was reluctant to grieve. Emboldened by her fears, Caroline
advanced, and laying her hand on his, exclaimed, "What is the
matter?--Are you ill?--your mother?--pray do not keep me in suspense,
but tell me what has happened."
He seemed to have mastered his emotion, from whatever cause it had
proceeded; for removing his hand, he looked earnestly upon her, and
drawing her to a seat beside him, said in firm, though sad tones, "That
has happened, Caroline, which would not move me thus, but for your dear
sake--I asked you last night to share my fortune--to-day I have none to
offer you.
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