Three days after Lord Arleigh's most inauspicious marriage. The Duchess
of Hazlewood sat in her drawing-room alone. Those three days had changed
her terribly; her face had lost its bloom, the light had died from her
dark eyes, there were great lines of pain round her lips. She sat with
her hands folded listlessly, her eyes, full of dreamy sorrow, fixed on
the moving foliage of the woods. Presently Lady Peters entered with an
open newspaper in her hand.
"Philippa, my dear," she said, "I am very uncomfortable. Should you
think this paragraph refers to Lord Arleigh? It seems to do so--yet I
cannot believe it."
The deadly pallor that was always the sign of great emotion with the
duchess spread now even to her lips.
"What does it say?" she asked.
Lady Peters held the paper out to her; but her hands trembled so that
she could not take it.
"I cannot read it," she said, wearily. "Read it to me."
And then Lady Peters read:
"Scandal in High Life.--Some strange revelations are shortly
expected in aristocratic circles. A few days since a noble lord,
bearing one of the most ancient titles in England, was married. The
marriage took place under circumstances of great mystery; and the
mystery has been increased by the separation of bride and
bridegroom on their wedding-day. What has led to a separation is at
present a secret, but it is expected that in a few days all
particulars will be known. At present the affair is causing a great
sensation."
A fashionable paper which indulged largely in personalities, also had a
telling article on Lord Arleigh's marriage. No names were mentioned, but
the references were unmistakable. A private marriage, followed by a
separation on the same day, was considered a fair mark for scandal. This
also Lady Peters read, and the duchess listened with white, trembling
lips.
"It must refer to Lord Arleigh," said Lady Peters.
"It cannot," was the rejoinder. "He was far too deeply in love with his
fair-faced bride to leave her."
"I never did quite approve of that marriage," observed Lady Peters.
"The scandal cannot be about him," declared the duchess. "We should have
heard if there had been anything wrong."
The next day a letter was handed to her. She recognized the
handwriting--it was Lord Arleigh's. She laid the note down, not daring
to read it before Lady Peters. What had he to say to her?
When she was alone she opened it.
"You will be pleased to hear, duchess, that your scheme has
entirely succeeded. You have made two innocent people who have
never harmed you as wretched as it is possible for human beings to
be. In no respect has your vengeance failed. I--your old friend,
playmate, brother, the son of your mother's dearest friend--have
been made miserable for life. Your revenge was well chosen. You
knew that, however I might worship Madaline, my wife, however much
I might love her, she could never be mistress of Beechgrove, she
could never be the mother of my children; you knew that, and
therefore I say your revenge was admirably chosen. It were useless
to comment on your wickedness, or to express the contempt I feel
for the woman who could deliberately plan such evil and distress. I
must say this, however. All friendship and acquaintance between us
is at an end. You will be to me henceforward an entire stranger. I
could retaliate. I could write and tell your husband, who is a man
of honor, of the unworthy deed you have done; but I shall not do
that--it would be unmanly. Before my dear wife and I parted, we
agreed that the punishment of your sin should be left to Heaven. So
I leave it. To a woman unworthy enough to plan such a piece of
baseness, it will be satisfaction sufficient to know that her
scheme has succeeded. Note the words 'my wife and I
parted'--parted, never perhaps to meet again. She has all my love,
all my heart, all my unutterable respect and deep devotion; but, as
you know, she can never be mistress of my house. May Heaven forgive
you.
Arleigh."
She could have borne with his letter if it had been filled with the
wildest invictives--if he had reproached her, even cursed her; his
dignified forbearance, his simple acceptance of the wrong she had done
him, she could not tolerate.
She laid down the letter. It was all over now--the love for which she
would have given her life, the friendship that had once been so true,
the vengeance that had been so carefully planned. She had lost his love,
his friendship, his esteem. She could see him no more. He despised her.
There came to her a vision of what she might have been to him had things
been different--his friend, adviser, counselor--the woman upon whom he
would have looked as the friend of his chosen wife--the woman whom,
after all, he loved best--his sister, his truest confidante. All this
she might have been but for her revenge. She had forfeited it all now.
Her life would be spent as though he did not exist; and there was no one
but herself to blame.
Still she had had her revenge; she smiled bitterly to herself as she
thought of that. She had punished him. The beautiful face grew pale, and
the dark eyes shone through a mist of tears.
"I am not hardened enough," she said to herself, mockingly, "to be quite
happy over an evil deed. I want something more of wickedness in my
composition."
She parried skillfully all Lady Peters' questions; she professed entire
ignorance of all that had happened. People appealed to her as Lord
Arleigh's friend. They asked her:
"What does this mean? Lord Arleigh was married quietly, and separated
from his wife the same day. What does it mean?"
"I cannot tell, but you may rely upon it that a reasonable explanation
of the circumstances will be forthcoming," she would reply. "Lord
Arleigh is, as we all know, an honorable man, and I knew his wife."
"But what can it mean?" the questioners would persist.
"I cannot tell," she would answer, laughingly. "I only know we must give
the matter the best interpretation we can."
So she escaped; and no one associated the Duchess of Hazlewood with Lord
Arleigh's strange marriage. She knew that when her husband returned she
would have to give some kind of explanation; but she was quite
indifferent about that. Her life, she said to herself, was ended.
When the duke did come home, after a few pleasant weeks on the sea, the
first thing he heard was the story about Lord Arleigh. It astounded him.
His friend Captain Austin related it to him as soon as he had landed.
"Whom did you say he married?" inquired the duke.
"Rumor said at first that it was a distant relative of yours," replied
the captain, "afterward it proved to be some young lady whom he had met
at a small watering-place."
"What was her name? Who was she? It was no relative of mine; I have very
few; I have no young female relative at all."
"No--that was all a mistake; I cannot tell you how it arose. He married
a lady of the name of Dornham."
"Dornham!" said the puzzled nobleman. "The name is not unfamiliar to
me--Dornham--ah, I remember!"
He said no more, but the captain saw a grave expression come over his
handsome face, and it occurred to him that some unpleasant thought
occurred to his companion's mind.