Wife in Name Only Part 21

he thought to himself, and stood watching her.

The same secret subtle harmony pervaded[4] every action; each new att.i.tude seemed to be the one that suited her best. If she raised her arms, she looked like a statue. Her hands were white and delicate, as though carved in ivory. He judged her to be about eighteen. But who was she, and what had brought her there? He could have stood through the long hours of the sunny day watching her, so completely had she charmed him, fascinated his very senses.

"Love is fate!" How often had he said that to himself, smiling the while? Now here his fate had come to him all unexpectedly--this most fair face had found its way to the very depths of his heart and nestled there.

He could not have been standing there long, yet it seemed to him that long hours parted him from the life he had known before. Presently he reproached himself for his folly. What had taken place? He had seen a fair face, that was all--a face that embodied his dream of loveliness.

He had realized his ideal, he had suddenly, and without thinking of it, found his fate--the figure, the beauty that he had dreamed of all his life.

Nothing more than that; yet the whole world seemed changed. There was a brighter light in the blue skies, a new beauty had fallen on the flowers; in his heart was strange, sweet music; everything was idealized--glorified. Why? Because he had seen the face that had always filled his thoughts.

It seemed to him that he had been there long hours, when the door suddenly opened, and her Grace of Hazlewood entered.

"Norman," she said, as though in sudden wonder, "why did they show you in here?"

"I knew they were doing wrong," he replied. "This is your own special sanctum, Philippa?"

"Yes, it is indeed; still, as you are here, you may stay. I want to speak to you about that Richmond dinner. My husband does not seem to care about it. Shall we give it up?"

They talked for a few minutes about it, and then the d.u.c.h.ess said, suddenly:

"What do you think about my roses, Norman?"

"They are wonderful," he replied, and then, in a low voice, he asked, "Philippa, who is that beautiful girl out there among your flowers?"

She did not smile, but a sudden light came into her eyes.

"It would be a great kindness not to tell you," she answered. "You see what comes of trespa.s.sing in forbidden places. I did not intend you to see that young lady."

"Why not?" he asked, abruptly.

"The answer to your question would be superfluous," she replied.

"But, Philippa, tell me at least who she is."

"That I cannot do," she replied, and then the magnificent face was lighted with a smile. "Is she your ideal woman, Norman?" she asked.

"My dear Philippa," he answered, gravely, "she is the idea," woman herself neither more nor less."

"Found at last!" laughed the d.u.c.h.ess. "For all that, Norman, you must not look it her."

"Why not? Is she married--engaged?"

"Married? That girl! Why, she has only just left school. If you really wish to know who she is I will tell you; but you must give me your word not to mention it."

"I promise," he replied.

He wondered why the beautiful face grew crimson and the dark eyes dropped.

"She is a poor relative of ours," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "poor, you understand--nothing else."

"Then she is related to the duke?" he interrogated.

"Yes, distantly; and, after a fashion, we have adopted her. When she marries we shall give her a suitable dot. Her mother married unfortunately."

"Still, she was married?" said Lord Arleigh.

"Yes, certainly; but unhappily married. Her daughter, however, has received a good education, and now she will remain with us. But, Norman, in this I may trust you, as in everything else?"

"You may trust me implicitly," he replied.

"The duke did not quite like the idea of having her to live with us at first--and I do not wish it to be mentioned to him. If he speaks of it to you at all, it will be as my caprice. Let it pa.s.s--do not ask any questions about her; it only annoys her--it only annoys him. She is very happy with me. You see," she continued, "women can keep a secret. She has been here three weeks, yet you have never seen her before, and now it is by accident."

"But," said Norman, "what do you intend to do with her?"

The d.u.c.h.ess took a seat near him, and a.s.sumed quite a confidential air.

"I have been for some time looking out for a companion," she said; "Lady Peters really must live at Verdun Royal--a housekeeper is not sufficient for that large establishment--it requires more than that. She has consented to make it her home, and I must have some one to be with me."

"You have the duke," he put in, wonderingly.

"True, and a husband most, perforce, be all that is adorable; still, having been accustomed to a lady-companion, I prefer keeping one; and this girl, so beautiful, so pure, so simple, is all that I need, or could wish for."

"So I should imagine," he replied. "Will you introduce her into society, Philippa?"

"I think not; she is a simple child, yet wonderfully clever. No, society shall not have her. I will keep her for my own."

"What is her name?" asked Lord Arleigh.

The d.u.c.h.ess laughed.

"Ah, now, man-like, you are growing curious! I shall not tell you. Yes, I will; it is the name above all others for an ideal--Madaline."

"Madaline," he repeated; "it is very musical--Madaline."

"It suits her," said the d.u.c.h.ess; "and now, Norman, I must go. I have some pressing engagements to-day."

"You will not introduce me then, Philippa?"

"No--why should I? You would only disturb the child's dream."

Chapter XVII.

Lord Arleigh could not rest for thinking of the vision he had seen; the face of the d.u.c.h.ess' companion haunted him as no other face had ever done. He tried hard to forget it, saying to himself that it was a fancy, a foolish imagination, a day-dream; he tried to believe that in a few days he should have forgotten it.