Part 13 (1/2)
”I have pleasing news concerning you, Lord Arleigh,” said the d.u.c.h.ess.
”I wonder if I may congratulate you?”
”What is it? I do not know of anything very interesting concerning myself,” he remarked--”nothing, I am sure, that calls for congratulation.”
”You are modest,” said the d.u.c.h.ess; ”but I have certainly heard, and on good authority, too, that you are about to be married.”
”I can only say I was not in the least aware of it,” he rejoined.
The d.u.c.h.ess raised her parasol and looked keenly at him.
”Pray pardon me,” she continued; ”do not think that it is from mere curiosity that I ask the question. Is there really no truth in the report?”
”None whatever,” he replied. ”I have no more idea of being married than I have of sailing this moment for the Cape.”
”It is strange,” said the d.u.c.h.ess, musingly; ”I had the information from such good authority, too.”
”There can be no better authority on the subject,” said Lord Arleigh, laughingly, ”than myself.”
”You; I admit that. Well, as the ice is broken, Lord Arleigh, and we are old friends, I may ask, why do you not marry?”
”Simply because of marriage, and of love that ends in marriage, I have not thought,” he answered lightly.
”It is time for you to begin,” observed the d.u.c.h.ess; ”my own impression is that a man does no good in the world until he is married.” And then she added: ”I suppose you have an ideal of womanhood?”
Lord Arleigh's face flushed.
”Yes,” he acknowledged, ”I have an ideal of my own, derived from poetry I have read, from pictures I have seen--an ideal of perfect grace, loveliness, and purity. When I meet that ideal, I shall meet my fate.”
”Then you have never yet seen the woman you would like to to marry?”
pursued the d.u.c.h.ess.
”No,” he answered, quite seriously; ”strange to say, although I have seen some of the fairest and n.o.blest types of womanhood, I have not yet met with my ideal.”
They were disturbed by a sudden movement--the flowers that Philippa held in her hand had fallen to the ground.
Chapter XI.
Captain Greshan sprang forward to lift the flowers which Miss L'Estrange had dropped.
”Nay,” she said, ”never mind them. A fresh flower is very nice. A flower that has once been in the dust has lost its beauty.”
There was no trace of pain in the clear voice; it was rich and musical.
Philippa L'Estrange, seated in the bright suns.h.i.+ne, heard the words that were to her a death-warrant, yet made no sign. ”I have not yet met with my ideal,” Lord Arleigh had said.
Captain Gresham picked up some of the fallen flowers.
”A dead flower from your hand, Miss L'Estrange,” he observed ”is worth a whole gardenful of living ones from any one else.”
She laughed again that sweet musical laugh which seemed to come only from a happy heart; and then she looked round. The d.u.c.h.ess of Aytoun and Lord Arleigh were still in deep converse. Miss L'Estrange turned to Captain Gresham.