It was almost noon before Lord Arleigh saw Philippa, and then it struck
him that she was not looking well. She seemed to have lost some of her
brilliant color, and he fancied she was thinner than she used to be. She
had sent for him to her _boudoir_.
"I heard that you were inquiring for me, Norman," she said. "Had you any
especial reason for so doing?"
"Yes," he replied, "I have a most important reason. But you are not
looking so bright as usual, Philippa. Are you not well?"
"The weather is too warm for one to look bright," she said, "much
sunshine always tires me. Sit down here, Norman; my room looks cool
enough, does it not?"
In its way her room was a triumph of art; the hangings were of pale
amber and white--there was a miniature fountain cooling the air with its
spray, choice flowers emitting sweet perfume. The fair young duchess was
resting on a couch of amber satin; she held a richly-jeweled fan in her
hands, which she used occasionally. She looked very charming in her
dress of light material, her dark hair carelessly but artistically
arranged. Still there was something about her unlike herself; her lips
were pale, and her eyes had in them a strange, wistful expression.
Norman took his seat near the little conch.
"I have come to make a confession, Philippa," he began.
"So I imagined; you look very guilty. What is it?"
"I have found my ideal. I love her, she loves me, and I want to marry
her."
The pallor of the lovely lips deepened. For a few minutes no sound was
heard except the falling of the spray of the fountain and then the
Duchess of Hazlewood looked up and said:
"Why do you make this confession to me, Norman?"
"Because it concerns some one in whom you are interested. It is Madaline
whom I love, Madaline whom I wish to marry. But that is not strange news
to you, I am sure, Philippa."
Again there was a brief silence; and then the duchess said, in a low
voice:
"You must admit that I warned you, Norman, from the very first."
He raised his head proudly.
"You warned me? I do not understand."
"I kept her out of your sight. I told you it would be better for you not
to see her. I advised you, did I not?"
She seemed rather to be pleading in self-defense than thinking of him.
"But, my dearest Philippa, I want no warning--I am very happy as to the
matter I have nearest my heart. I thank you for bringing my sweet
Madaline here. You do not seem to understand?"
She looked at him earnestly.
"Do you love her so very much, Norman?"
"I love her better than any words of mine can tell," he said. "The
moment I saw her first I told you my dream was realized--I had found my
ideal. I have loved her ever since."
"How strange!" murmured the duchess.
"Do you think it strange? Remember how fair and winsome she is--how
sweet and gentle. I do not believe there is any one like her."
The white hand that, held the jeweled fan moved more vigorously.
"Why do you tell me this, Norman? What do you wish me to do?"
"You have always been so kind to me," he said, "you have ever been as a
sister, my best, dearest, truest friend. I could not have a feeling of
this kind without telling you of it. Do you remember how you used to
tease me about my ideal. Neither of us thought in those days that I
should find her under your roof."
"No," said the duchess, quietly, "it is very strange."
"I despaired of winning Madaline," he continued. "She had such strange
ideas of the wonderful distance between us--she thought so much more of
me than of herself, of the honor of my family and my name--that, to tell
you the truth, Philippa, I thought I should never win her consent to be
my wife."
"And you have won it at last," she put in, with quiet gravity.
"Yes--at last. This morning she promised to be my wife."
The dark eyes looked straight into his own.
"It is a miserable marriage for you, Norman. Granted that Madaline has
beauty, grace, purity, she is without fortune, connection, position.
You, an Arleigh of Beechgrove, ought to do better. I am speaking as the
world will speak. It is really a wretched marriage."
"I can afford to laugh at the world to please myself in the choice of a
wife. There are certain circumstances under which I would not have
married any one; these circumstances do not surround my darling. She
stands out clear and distinct as a bright jewel from the rest of the
world. To-day she promised to be my wife, but she is so sensitive and
hesitating that I am almost afraid I shall lose her even now, and I want
to marry her as soon as I can."
"But why," asked the duchess, "do you tell me this?"
"Because it concerns you most nearly. She lives under your roof--she is,
in some measure, your protégée."
"Vere will be very angry when he hears of it," said the duchess. And
then Lord Arleigh looked up proudly.
"I do not see why he should. It is no business of his."
"He will think it so strange."
"It is no stranger than any other marriage," said Lord Arleigh.
"Philippa, you disappoint me. I expected more sympathy at least from
you."
The tone of his voice was so full of pain that she looked up quickly.
"Do you think me unkind, Norman? You could not expect any true friend of
yours to be very delighted at such a marriage as this, could you?" It
seemed as though she knew and understood that opposition made his own
plan seem only the dearer to him. "Still I have no wish to fail in
sympathy. Madaline is very lovely and very winning--I have a great
affection for her--and I think--nay, I am quite sure--that she loves you
very dearly."
"That is better--that is more like your own self, Philippa. You used to
be above all conventionality. I knew that in the depths of your generous
heart you would be pleased for your old friend to be happy at last--and
I shall be happy, Philippa. You wish me well, do you not?"
Her lips seemed hard and dry as she replied:
"Yes, I wish you well."
"What I wished to consult you about is my marriage. It must not take
place here, of course. I understand, and think it only natural, that the
duke does not wish to have public attention drawn to Madaline. We all
like to keep our little family secrets; consequently I have thought of a
plan which I believe will meet all the difficulties of the case."
The pallor of the duchess' face deepened.
"Are you faint or ill, Philippa?" he asked, wondering at her strange
appearance.
"No," she replied, "it is only the heat that affects me. Go on with your
story, Norman; it interests me."
"That is like my dear old friend Philippa. I thought a marriage from
here would not do--it would entail publicity and remark; that none of us
would care for--besides, there could hardly be a marriage under your
auspices during the absence of the duke."
"No, it would hardly be _en rêgle_," she agreed.
"But," continued Norman, "if Lady Peters would befriend me--if she would
go away to some quiet sea-side place, and take Madaline with her--then,
at the end of a fortnight, I might join them there, and we could be
married, with every due observance of conventionality, but without
calling undue public attention to the ceremony. Do you not think that a
good plan, Philippa?"
"Yes," she said slowly.
"Look interested in it, or you will mar my happiness. Why, if it were
your marriage, Philippa, I should consider every detail of high
importance. Do not look cold or indifferent about it."
She roused herself with a shudder.
"I am neither cold nor indifferent," she said--"on the contrary I am
vitally interested. You wish me, of course, to ask Lady Peters if she
will do this?"
"Yep, because I know she will refuse you nothing."
"Then that is settled," said the duchess. "There is a pretty, quiet
little watering-place called St. Mildred's--I remember hearing Vere
speak of it last year--which would meet your wishes, I think, if Lady
Peters and Madaline consent."
"I am sure they will consent," put in Lord Arleigh hopefully.
"There is another thing to be thought of," said the duchess--"a
_trousseau_ for the fair young bride."
"Yes, I know. She will have every fancy gratified after our marriage,
but there will not be time for much preparations before it."
"Let me be fairy godmother," said the duchess. "In three weeks from
to-day I engage to have such a _trousseau_ as has rarely been seen. You
can add dresses and ornaments to it afterward."
"You are very good. Do you know," he said, "that it is only now that I
begin to recognize my old friend? At first you seemed so unsympathetic,
so cold--now you are my sister Philippa the sharer of my joys and
sorrows. We had no secrets when we were children."
"No," she agreed, mournfully, "none."
"And we have none now," he said, with a happy laugh. "How astonished
Vere will be when he returns and finds that Madaline is married! And I
think that, if it can be all arranged without any great blow to his
family pride, he will not be ill-pleased."
"I should think not," she returned, listlessly.
"And you, Philippa--you will extend to my beloved wife the friendship
and affection that you have given to me?"
"Yes," she replied, absently.
"Continue to be her fairy-godmother. There is no friend who can do as
you can do. You will be Madaline's sheet-anchor and great hope."
She turned away with a shudder.
"Philippa," he continued, "will you let me send Lady Peters to you now,
that I may know as soon as possible whether she consents?"
"You can send her if you will, Norman."
Was it his fancy, or did he really, as he stood at the door, hear a
deep, heart-broken sigh? Did her voice, in a sad, low wail, come to
him--"Norman, Norman!"
He turned quickly[5], but she seemed already to have forgotten him, and
was looking through the open window.
Was it his fancy again, when the door had closed, or did she really
cry--"Norman!" He opened the door quickly.
"Did you call me, Philippa?" he asked.
"No," she replied; and he went away.
"I do not understand it," he thought; "there is something not quite
right. Philippa is not like herself."
Then he went in search of Lady Peters, whom he bewildered and astonished
by telling her that it lay in her power to make him the happiest of men.
"That is what men say when they make an offer of marriage," she
observed; "and I am sure you are not about to make one to me."
"No; but, dear Lady Peters, I want you to help me marry some one else.
Will you go to the duchess? She will tell you all about it."
"Why not tell me yourself?" she asked.
"She has better powers of persuasion," he replied, laughingly.
"Then I am afraid, if so much persuasion is required, that something
wrong is on the _tapis_," said Lady Peters. "I cannot imagine why men
who have beautiful young wives go yachting. It seems to me a terrible
mistake."
Lord Arleigh laughed.
"The duke's yachting has very little to do with this matter," he said.
"Lady Peters, before you listen to the duchess, let me make one appeal
to you. With all my heart I beseech you to grant the favor that she will
ask."
He bent his handsome head, and kissed her hand, while emotion rose to
the lady's eyes.
"Is it something for you, Lord Arleigh?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "for my own unworthy self."
"Then I will do it if possible," she replied.
But when the Duchess of Hazlewood had told her what was needed, and had
placed the whole matter before her, Lady Peters looked shocked.
"My dear Philippa," she said, "this is terrible. I could not have
believed it. She is a lovely, graceful, pure-minded girl, I know; but
such a marriage for an Arleigh! I cannot believe it."
"That is unfortunate," said her grace, dryly, "for he seems very much in
earnest."
"No money, no rank, no connections, while he is one of the finest
matches in England."
"She is his ideal," was the mocking reply. "It is not for us to point
out deficiencies."
"But what will the duke say?" inquired her ladyship, anxiously.
"I do not suppose that he will be very much surprised. Even if he is, he
will have had time to recover from his astonishment before he returns.
The duke knows that 'beauty leads man at its will.' Few can resist the
charm of a pretty face"
"What shall I do?" asked Lady Peters, hopelessly. "What am I to say?"
"Decide for yourself. I decline to offer any opinion. I say simply that
if you refuse he will probably ask the favor of some one else."
"But do you advise me to consent, Philippa?" inquired Lady Peters,
anxiously.
"I advise you to please yourself. Had he asked a similar favor of me, I
might have granted or I might have refused it; I cannot say."
"To think of that simple, fair-faced girl being Lady Arleigh!" exclaimed
Lady Peters. "I suppose that I had better consent, or he will do
something more desperate. He is terribly in earnest, Philippa."
"He is terribly in love," said the duchess, carelessly, and then Lady
Peters decided that she would accede to Lord Arleigh's request.