On the day of his departure the duke had said to his wife: "I have
invited Norman to spend a few weeks with you; have some pleasant people
to meet him. He tells me he shall not go to Scotland this year."
"I will ask Miss Byrton and Lady Sheldon," Philippa had promised.
"Only two ladies!" the duke had laughed. "He will want some one to smoke
his cigar with."
"I will trust to some happy inspiration at the time, then," she had
replied; and they had not mentioned the matter again.
Early in August Lord Arleigh wrote that if it were convenient he should
prefer paying his promised visit at once. He concluded his letter by
saying:
"My dear Philippa, your kind, good husband has said something to me
about meeting a pleasant party. I should so much prefer one of my old
style visits--no parties, no ceremonies. I want to see you and Verdun
Royal, not a crowd of strange faces. Lady Peters is _chaperon_, if you
have any lingering doubt about the 'proprieties.'"
So it was agreed that he should come alone, and later on, if the duchess
cared to invite more friends, she could do so.
The fact was that Lord Arleigh wanted time for his wooing. He had found
that he could not live without Madaline. He had thought most carefully
about everything, and had decided on asking her to be his wife. True,
there was the drawback of her parentage--but that was not grievous, not
so terrible. Of course, if she had been lowly-born--descended from the
dregs of the people, or the daughter of a criminal--he would have
trampled his love under foot. He would have said to himself "_Noblesse
oblige_," and rather than tarnish the honor of his family, he would have
given her up.
This was not needed. Related to the Duke of Hazlewood, there could not
be anything wrong. The duchess had told him distinctly that Madaline's
mother had married beneath her, and that the whole family on that
account had completely ignored her. He did not remember that the duchess
had told him so in as many words, but he was decidedly of the opinion
that Madaline's mother was a cousin of the duke's, and that she had
married a drawing-master, who had afterward turned out wild and
profligate. The drawing-master was dead. His darling Madaline had good
blood in her veins--was descended from an ancient and noble family. That
she had neither fortune nor position was immaterial to him. He had
understood from the duchess that the mother of his fair young love lived
in quiet retirement. He could not remember in what words all this had
been told to him, but this was the impression that was on his mind. So
he had determined on making Madaline his wife if he could but win her
consent. The only thing to be feared was her own unwillingness. She was
fair and fragile, but she had a wonderful strength of will.
He had thought it all over. He remembered well what the duchess had
said about the duke's not caring to hear the matter mentioned. Lord
Arleigh could understand that, with all his gentleness, Hazlewood was a
proud man, and that, if there had been a _mésalliance_ in his family, he
would be the last to wish it discussed. Still Lord Arleigh knew that he
would approve of the marriage. It was plain, however, that it would be
better for it to take place while he was away from England, and then it
would not, could not in any way compromise him. A quiet marriage would
not attract attention.
If he could only win Madeline's consent. She had been so unwilling to
promise him her friendship, and then so unwilling to hear that he loved
her. He could form no idea how she would receive the offer of marriage
that he intended to make her.
That was why he wished to go alone. He would have time and opportunity
then. As for Philippa, he did not fear any real objection from her; if
she once believed or thought that his heart was fixed on marrying
Madaline, he was sure she would help him.
Marry Madaline he must--life was nothing to him without her. He had
laughed at the fever called love. He knew now how completely love had
mastered him. He could think of nothing but Madaline.
He went down to Verdun Royal, heart and soul so completely wrapped in
Madaline that he hardly remembered Philippa--hardly remembered that he
was going as her guest; he was going to woo Madeline--fair, sweet
Madaline--to ask her to be his wife, to try to win her for his own.
It was afternoon when he reached Verdun Royal. The glory of summer was
over the earth. He laughed at himself, for he was nervous and timid; he
longed to see Madaline, yet trembled at the thought of meeting her.
"So this is love?" said Lord Arleigh to himself, with a smile. "I used
to wonder why it made men cowards, and what there was to fear; I can
understand it now."
Then he saw the gray towers and turrets of Verdun Royal rising from the
trees; he thought of his childish visits to the house, and how his
mother taught him to call the child Philippa his little wife. Who would
have thought in those days that Philippa would live to be a duchess, and
that he should so wildly worship, so madly love a fairer, younger face?
He was made welcome at Verdun Royal. Lady Peters received him as though
he were her own son. Then the duchess entered, with a glad light in her
eyes, and a smile that was half wistful. She greeted him warmly; she was
pleased to see him--pleased to welcome him; the whole house was at his
service, and everything in it. He had never seen the duchess look
better; she wore her favorite colors, amber and white.
"I have attended to your wishes, Norman," she said; "you must not blame
me if you are dull. I have asked no one to meet you."
"There is no fear of my ever being dull here, Philippa," he returned.
"You forget that I am almost as much at home as you are yourself. I can
remember when I looked upon coming to Verdun Royal as coming home."
A shadow of pain crossed her face at this reference to those early,
happy days. Then he summoned up courage, and said to her:
"Where is your fair companion, Philippa?"
"She is somewhere about the grounds," replied the duchess. "I can never
persuade her to remain in-doors unless she has something to do. So you
have not forgotten her?" added the duchess, after a short pause.
"I have not forgotten her, Philippa. I shall have something very
important to say to you about her before I go away again."
She gave no sign that she understood him, but began to talk to him on a
number of indifferent matters--the warmth of the weather, his journey
down, the last news from her husband--and he answered her somewhat
impatiently. His thoughts were with Madaline.
At last the signal of release came.
"We need not play at 'company,' Norman," said the duchess. "As you say,
Verdun Royal has always been like home to you. Continue to make it so.
We dine at eight--it is now nearly five. You will find plenty to amuse
yourself with. Whenever you wish for my society, you will find me in the
drawing-room or my _boudoir_."
He murmured some faint word of thanks, thinking to himself how
considerate she was, and that she guessed he wanted to find Madaline.
With a smile on her face, she turned to him as she was quitting the
room.
"Vere seemed very uneasy, when he was going away, lest you should not
feel at liberty to smoke when you liked," she said. "Pray do not let the
fact of his absence prevent you from enjoying a cigar whenever you feel
inclined for one."
"A thousand thanks, Philippa," returned Lord Arleigh, inwardly hoping
that Madaline would give him scant time for the enjoyment of cigars.
Then he went across the lawn, wondering how she would look, where he
should find her, and what she would say to him when she saw him. Once or
twice he fancied he saw the glimmer of a white dress between the trees.
He wondered if she felt shy at seeing him, as he did at seeing her. Then
suddenly--it was as though a bright light had fallen from the skies--he
came upon her standing under a great linden tree.
"Madaline!" he said, gently. And she came to him with outstretched
hands.