Part 24 (1/2)
”You are unlike it only because you are a hundred times fairer,” he replied; ”that is why I inquired about you--why I asked so many questions. It was because you were to me a dream realized. So it came about that I heard your true history. Now will you be my friend?”
”If you still wish it, Lord Arleigh, yes; but, if you repent of having asked me, and should ever feel ashamed of our friends.h.i.+p, remember that I shall not reproach you for giving me up.”
”Giving you up?” cried Lord Arleigh. ”Ah, Madaline--let me call you Madaline, the name is so sweet--I shall never give you up! When a man has been for many years looking for some one to fill his highest and brightest dreams, he knows how to appreciate that some one when found.”
”It seems all so strange,” she said, musingly.
”Nay, why strange? You have read that sweetest and saddest of all love stories--'Romeo and Juliet?' Did _Juliet_ think it strange that, so soon after seeing her, _Romeo_ should be willing to give his life for her?”
”No, it did not seem strange to them,” she replied, with a smile; ”but it is different with us. This is the nineteenth century, and there are no _Juliets_.”
”There are plenty of _Romeos_, though,” he remarked, laughingly. ”The sweetest dreams in my life are the briefest. Will you pluck one of those roses for me and give it to me, saying, 'I promise to be your friend?'”
”You make me do things against my will,” she said; but she plucked a rose, and held it toward him in her hand. ”I promise to be your friend,”
she said, gently.
Lord Arleigh kissed the rose. As he did so their eyes met; and it would have been hard to tell which blushed the more deeply. After that, meetings between them became more frequent. Lord Arleigh made seeing her the one great study of his life--and the result was what might be imagined.
Chapter XVIII.
The yacht of Mr. Conyers, one of the richest commoners in England--a yacht fitted as surely no yacht ever before had been fitted--was for sale. He was a wealthy man, but to keep that sea-palace afloat was beyond his means. The d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood was sole mistress of a large fortune in her own right; the duke had made most magnificent settlements upon her. She had a large sum of money at her command; and the idea suddenly occurred to her to purchase Mr. Conyers' yacht unknown to her husband and present him with it. He was fond of yachting--it was his favorite amus.e.m.e.nt. She herself was a wretched sailor, and would not be able to accompany him; but that would not matter. It was not of her own pleasure that the d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood was thinking, while the old strange brooding smile lingered on her beautiful face and deepened on her perfect lips.
”It would be the very thing,” she said to herself, ”it would afford to me the opportunity I am seeking--nothing could be better.”
She purchased the yacht and presented it to the duke, her husband. His pleasure and astonishment were unbounded. She was, as a rule, so undemonstrative that he could not thank her sufficiently for what seemed to him her great interest in his favorite pursuit.
”The only drawback to the splendid gift, Philippa, is that you can never enjoy it; it will take me away from you.”
”Yes, I do indeed deplore that I am a wretched sailor, for I can imagine nothing pleasanter than life on board such a yacht as that. But, while you are cruising about, Vere, I shall go to Verdun Royal and take Madaline with me; then I shall go to Vere Court--make a kind of royal progress, set everything straight and redress all wrongs, hold a court at each establishment I shall enjoy that more than yachting.”
”But I shall miss you so much, Philippa,” said the young husband.
”We have the remainder of our lives to spend together,” she rejoined; ”if you are afraid of missing me too much, you had better get rid of the yacht.”
But he would not hear of that--he was delighted with the beautiful and valuable present. The yacht was christened ”Queen Philippa”; and it was decided that, when the end of the season had come, the duke should take his beautiful wife to Verdun Royal, and, after having installed her there, should go at once to sea. He had invited a party of friends--all yachtsmen like himself--and they had agreed to take ”Queen Philippa” to the Mediterranean, there to cruise during the autumn months.
As it was settled so it was carried out; before the week had ended the duke, d.u.c.h.ess, and Madeline were all at Verdun Royal. Perhaps the proud young wife had never realized before how completely her husband loved her. This temporary parting was to him a real pain.
A few days before it took place he began to look pale and ill. She saw that he could not eat, that he did not sleep or rest. Her heart was touched by his simple fidelity, his pa.s.sionate love, although the one fell purpose of her life remained unchanged.
”If you dislike going, Vere,” she said to him one day, ”do not go--stay at Verdun Royal.”
”The world would laugh if I did that, Philippa,” he returned; ”it would guess at once what was the reason, because every one knows how dearly I love you. We should be called _Darby_ and _Joan_.”
”No one would ever dare to call me _Joan_,” she said, ”for I have nothing of _Joan_ in me.”
The duke sighed--perhaps he thought that it would be all the better if she had; but, fancying there was something, after all, slightly contemptuous in her manner, as though she thought it unmanly in him to repine about leaving her, he said no more.