Sylvia's Lovers

Philip used to wonder if the dream that preceded her illness was the

suggestive cause that drew her so often to the shore. Her illness

consequent upon that dream had filled his mind, so that for many

months he himself had had no haunting vision of Kinraid to disturb

his slumbers. But now the old dream of Kinraid's actual presence by

Philip's bedside began to return with fearful vividness. Night after

night it recurred; each time with some new touch of reality, and

close approach; till it was as if the fate that overtakes all men

were then, even then, knocking at his door.

In his business Philip prospered. Men praised him because he did

well to himself. He had the perseverance, the capability for

head-work and calculation, the steadiness and general forethought

which might have made him a great merchant if he had lived in a

large city. Without any effort of his own, almost, too, without

Coulson's being aware of it, Philip was now in the position of

superior partner; the one to suggest and arrange, while Coulson only

carried out the plans that emanated from Philip. The whole work of

life was suited to the man: he did not aspire to any different

position, only to the full development of the capabilities of that

which he already held. He had originated several fresh schemes with

regard to the traffic of the shop; and his old masters, with all

their love of tried ways, and distrust of everything new, had been

candid enough to confess that their successors' plans had resulted

in success. 'Their successors.' Philip was content with having the

power when the exercise of it was required, and never named his own

important share in the new improvements. Possibly, if he had,

Coulson's vanity might have taken the alarm, and he might not have

been so acquiescent for the future. As it was, he forgot his own

subordinate share, and always used the imperial 'we', 'we thought',

'it struck us,' &c.