Even Peggy caught her breath as the girl came forward.
"You beautiful thing!" she exclaimed. "You do belong in a golden frame in some great English castle!"
Philippa, perplexed but smiling, acknowledged Madame de Moidrey’s presence and Peggy’s, then turned to Warner with hand extended, as though she had not taken a similar leave of him an hour or two before.
"Everybody is so generous! Do you admire my new gown? Peggy gave it to me. Never have I possessed such a ravishing gown. That is why I am late; I stood at my mirror and looked and looked——"
She turned swiftly to Peggy: "Dear, I am too happy to know how to say so! And if Madame de Moidrey is contented with me——"
"You are too lovely for words, Philippa," said the Countess. "If Mr. Warner paints you that way, I shall wish to have the picture for myself."
"Certainly," said the Countess. "You may begin as soon as Philippa is ready."
"Very well," said he. "If I paint the picture, you promise to hang it in the Château as a memento of Philippa, do you?"
"Then there’ll be no charge for this important major operation. Philippa, will you take ether tomorrow morning?"
The girl laughed and nodded, looking up at him from where she was seated beside the Countess, examining the sewing.
"Could I not do this for you, Madame?" she said.
The girl smiled, then a slight sigh escaped her. The Countess looked up at her, and Philippa smiled again, saying:
"There seems to be nothing within my power to do for you, Madame."
"There _is_ something," said Madame de Moidrey under her breath.
"I want you to like me, Philippa.... And if some day you could learn to love me, that would be the rarest gift that could be offered me."
The girl’s grey eyes widened in utter surprise; suddenly they sparkled with tears, and she bent her head swiftly and touched the elder woman’s hands with her own.
"Madame," she whispered, "you overwhelm me with your kindness.... If only I could express my gratitude——"
She checked herself as Maurice, the head gardener, appeared, hat in hand, deep anxiety stamped on his seamed and sunburnt features.
"Pardon, Madame la Comtesse—there is a great fire somewhere in the north. I thought Madame should be told——"
"A fire? What is it? The forest, Maurice?"