It was quite otherwise. He left Vere House in a fever of unrest; he went everywhere he could think of to distract his thoughts. But the fair face with its sweet, maidenly expression, the tender blue eyes with their rich poetic depths, the sweet, sensitive lips were ever present. Look where he would he saw them. He went to the opera, and they seemed to smile at him from the stage; he walked home in the starlight--they were smiling at him from the stars; he tried to sleep--they haunted him; none had followed him as those eyes did.
"I think my heart and brain are on fire," he said to himself. "I will go and look once again at the fair young face; perhaps if she smiles at me or speaks to me I shall be cured."
He went; it was noon when he reached the Duke of Hazlewood"s mansion. He inquired for the d.u.c.h.ess, and was told she had gone to Hampton Court. He repeated the words in surprise.
"Hampton Court!" he said. "Are you quite sure?"
"Yes, my lord," was the footman"s reply. "Her grace has gone there, for I heard her talking about the pictures this morning."
He could hardly imagine the d.u.c.h.ess at Hampton Court. He felt half inclined to follow, and then he thought that perhaps it would be an intrusion; if she had wanted his society, she would certainly have asked for it. No, he would not go. He stood for a few minutes irresolute, wondering if he could ask whether the d.u.c.h.ess had taken her young companion with her, and then he remembered that he did not even know her name.
How was the day to pa.s.s? Matters were worse than ever. If he had seen her, if he could have spoken to her, he might perhaps have felt better; as it was, the fever of unrest had deepened.
He was to meet the d.u.c.h.ess that evening at the French Emba.s.sy; he would tell her she must relax some of her rigor in his favor. She was talking to the amba.s.sador when he entered, but with a smiling gesture she invited him to her side.
"I hear that you called to-day," she said. "I had quite forgotten to tell you that we were going to Hampton Court."
"I could hardly believe it," he replied. "What took you there?"
"You will wonder when I tell you, Norman," she replied, laughingly. "I have always thought that I have a great capacity for spoiling people. My fair Madaline, as I have told you, is both poet and artist. She begged so hard to see the pictures at Hampton Court that I could not refuse her."
"I should not think the history of the belles of the court of Charles II. would be very useful to her," he said; and she was quick to detect the jealousy in his voice.
"Norman, you are half inclined to be cross, I believe, because I did not ask you to go with us."
"I should have enjoyed it, Philippa, very much."
"It would not have been prudent," she observed, looking most bewitchingly beautiful in her effort to look matronly and wise.
He said no more; but if her grace had thought of a hundred plans for making him think of Madaline, she could not have adopted one more to the purpose.
From the moment Lord Arleigh believed that the young d.u.c.h.ess intended to forbid all acquaintance with her fair _protegee_, he resolved to see her and to make her like him.
The day following he went again to the mansion; the d.u.c.h.ess was at home, and wished to see him, but at that moment she was engaged. He was shown into the library, where in a few minutes she joined him.
"My dear Norman," she said, with a bright smile of greeting, "Vere told me, if you came, to keep you for luncheon; he wants to see you particularly. The horse that won the Derby, he has been told, is for sale, and he wants you to see it with him."
"I shall be very pleased," replied Lord Arleigh. "You seem hurried this morning, Philippa."
"Yes; such a _contretemps_! Just as I was antic.i.p.ating a few hours with you, the Countess of Farnley came in, with the terrible announcement that she was here to spend the morning. I have to submit to fate, and listen to the account of Clara"s last conquests, of the infamous behavior of her maid, of Lord Darnley"s propensity for indiscreet flirtations. I tell her there is safety in number. I have to look kind and sympathetic while I am bored to death."
"Shall I accompany you and help you to amuse Lady Farnley?"
She repeated the words with a little laugh.
"Amuse Lady Farnley? I never undertake the impossible. You might as well ask me to move the monument, it would be quite as easy."
"Shall I help her to amuse you, then?" he said.
"No, I will not impose on your friendship. Make yourself as comfortable as you can, and I will try to hasten her departure."
Just as she was going away Lord Arleigh called to her.
"Philippa!" she turned her beautiful head half impatiently to him.
"What is it, Norman? Quick! The countess will think I am lost."
"May I go into your pretty rose-garden?" he asked.
She laughed.
"What a question! Certainly; you my go just where you please."
"She has forgotten her companion," he said to himself, "or she is not about."
He went into the morning-room and through the long, open French window; there were the lovely roses in bloom, and there--oh, kind, blessed fate!--there was his beautiful Madaline, seated in the pretty trellised arbor, busily working some fine point-lace, looking herself like the fairest flower that ever bloomed.
The young girl looked up at him with a startled glance--shy, sweet, hesitating--and then he went up to her.
"Do not let me disturb you," he said. "The d.u.c.h.ess is engaged and gave me permission to wait for her here."
She bowed, and he fancied that her white fingers trembled.
"May I introduce myself to you?" he continued. "I am Lord Arleigh."
A beautiful blush, exquisite as the hue of the fairest rose, spread over her face. She looked at him with a smile.
"Lord Arleigh," she repeated--"I know the name very well."
"You know my name very well--how is that?" he asked, in surprise.
"It is a household word here," she said; "I hear it at least a hundred times a day."
"Do you? I can only hope that you are not tired of it."
"No, indeed I am not;" and then she drew back with a sudden hesitation, as though it had just occurred to her that she was talking freely to a stranger.
He saw her embarra.s.sment, and did his best to remove it.
"How beautiful these roses are!" he said, gently. "The d.u.c.h.ess is fortunate to have such a little paradise here."
"She ought to be surrounded by everything that is fairest and most beautiful on earth," she declared, "for there is no one like her."
"You are fond of her?" he said.
She forgot all her shyness, and raised her blue eyes to his.
"Fond of her? I love her better than any one on earth--except perhaps, my mother. I could never have dreamed of any one so fair, so bewitching, so kind as the d.u.c.h.ess."