Wife in Name Only Part 33

She clung to his arm as she stood there.

"Oh, Norman," she said, "do you mean that my portrait, too, will hang here?"

"I hope so, my darling, very soon."

"But how can I have a place among all these fair and n.o.ble women," she asked, with sad humility--"I whose ancestors have done nothing to deserve merit or praise? Why, Norman, in the long years to come, when some Lord Arleigh brings home his wife, as you have brought me, and they stand together before my picture as I stand before these, the young wife will ask: 'Who was this?' and the answer will be: 'Lady Madaline Arleigh.' She will ask again: 'Who was she?' And what will the answer be? 'She was no one of importance; she had neither money, rank, nor aught else.'"

He looked at the bent face near him.

"Nay, my darling, not so. That Lord Arleigh will be able to answer: 'She was the flower of the race; she was famed for her pure, gentle life, and the good example she gave to all around her; she was beloved by rich and poor.' That is what will be said of you, my Madaline."

"Heaven make me worthy!" she said, humbly. And then they came to a picture that seemed to strike her.

"Norman," she said, "that face is like the d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood's."

"Do you think so, darling? Well, there is perhaps a faint resemblance."

"It lies in the brow and in the chin," she said. "How beautiful the d.u.c.h.ess is!" she continued. "I have often looked at her till her face seemed to dazzle me."

"I know some one who is far more beautiful in my eyes," he returned.

"Norman," she said, half hesitatingly, "do you know one thing that I have thought so strange?"

"No, I have not been trusted with many of your thoughts yet," he returned.

"I have wondered so often why you never fell in love with the d.u.c.h.ess."

"Fate had something better in store for me," he said, laughing.

She looked surprised.

"You cannot mean that you really think I am better than she is, Norman?"

"I do think it, darling; ten thousand times better--ten thousand times fairer in my eyes."

"Norman," she said, a sudden gleam of memory brightening her face; "I had almost forgotten--the d.u.c.h.ess gave me this for you; I was to be sure to give it to you before the sun set on our wedding-day."

She held out a white packet sealed securely, and he took it wonderingly.

He tore off the outer cover, and saw, written on the envelope:

"A wedding present from Philippa, d.u.c.h.ess of to Lord Arleigh. To be read alone on his wedding-day."

Chapter XXVI.

Lord Arleigh stared at the packet which his wife had given him, and again and again read the words that were inscribed on it: "A wedding present from Philippa, d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood to Lord Arleigh. To be read alone on his wedding-day." What could it mean? Philippa at times took strange caprices into her head. This seemed to be one of the strangest.

He held the letter in his hand, a strange presentiment of evil creeping over him which he could not account for. From the envelope came a sweet scent, which the d.u.c.h.ess always used. It was so familiar to him that for a few minutes it brought her vividly before him--he could have fancied her standing near him. Then he remembered the strange words: "To be read alone." What could that mean? That the letter contained something that his young wife must not see or hear.

He looked at her. She had seemingly forgotten all about the packet, and stood now, with a smile on her face, before one of the finest pictures in the gallery, wrapt in a dream of delight. There could not be anything in the letter affecting her. Still, as Philippa had written so pointedly, it would be better perhaps for him to heed her words.

"Madaline, my darling," he said, sinking on to an ottoman, "you have taken no tea. You would like some. Leave me here alone for half an hour.

I want to think."

She did what she had never done voluntarily before. She went up to him, and clasped her arms round his neck. She bent her blushing face over his, and the caress surprised as much as it delighted him--she was so shyly demonstrative.

"What are you going to think about, Norman? Will it be of me?"

"Of whom else should I think on my wedding-day, if not of my wife?" he asked.

"I should be jealous if your thoughts went anywhere else," replied Madaline. "There is a daring speech, Norman. I never thought I should make such a one."

"Your daring is very delightful, Madaline; let me hear more of it."

She laughed the low, happy, contented laugh that sounded like sweetest music in his ears.

"I will dare to say something else, Norman, if you will promise not to think it uncalled for. I am very happy, my darling husband--I love you very much, and I thank you for your love."

"Still better," he said, kissing the beautiful, blushing face. "Now go, Madaline. I understand the feminine liking for a cup of tea."

"Shall I send one to you?" she asked.

"No," he replied, laughingly. "You may teach me to care about tea in time. I do not yet."

He was still holding the letter in his hand, and the faint perfume was like a message from Philippa, reminding him that the missive was still unread.

"I shall not be long," said Madaline. She saw that for some reason or other he wanted to be alone.

"You will find me here," he returned. "This is a favorite Book of mine.

I shall not leave it until you return."

The nook was a deep bay window from which there was a magnificent view of the famous beeches. Soft Turkish cushions and velvet lounges filled it, and near it hung one of t.i.tian's most gorgeous pictures--a dark-eyed woman with a ruby necklace. The sun's declining rays falling on the rubies, made them appear like drops of blood. It was a grand picture, one that had been bought by the lords of Beechgrove, and the present Lord Arleigh took great delight in it.

He watched the long folds of Madaline's white dress, as she pa.s.sed along the gallery, and then the hangings fell behind her. Once more he held up the packet.

"A wedding present from Philippa, d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood, to Lord Arleigh."

Whatever mystery it contained should be solved at once. He broke the seal; the envelope contained a closely-written epistle. He looked at it in wonder. What could Philippa have to write to him about? The letter began as follows:

"A wedding present from Philippa, d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood, to Norman, Lord Arleigh. You will ask what it is? My answer is, my revenge--well planned, patiently awaited.

"You have read the lines:

"'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor h.e.l.l a fury like a woman scorned.'