Still she had had her revenge; she smiled bitterly to herself as she thought of that. She had punished him. The beautiful face grew pale, and the dark eyes shone through a mist of tears.
"I am not hardened enough," she said to herself, mockingly, "to be quite happy over an evil deed. I want something more of wickedness in my composition."
She parried skillfully all Lady Peters" questions; she professed entire ignorance of all that had happened. People appealed to her as Lord Arleigh"s friend. They asked her:
"What does this mean? Lord Arleigh was married quietly, and separated from his wife the same day. What does it mean?"
"I cannot tell, but you may rely upon it that a reasonable explanation of the circ.u.mstances will be forthcoming," she would reply. "Lord Arleigh is, as we all know, an honorable man, and I knew his wife."
"But what can it mean?" the questioners would persist.
"I cannot tell," she would answer, laughingly. "I only know we must give the matter the best interpretation we can."
So she escaped; and no one a.s.sociated the d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood with Lord Arleigh"s strange marriage. She knew that when her husband returned she would have to give some kind of explanation; but she was quite indifferent about that. Her life, she said to herself, was ended.
When the duke did come home, after a few pleasant weeks on the sea, the first thing he heard was the story about Lord Arleigh. It astounded him.
His friend Captain Austin related it to him as soon as he had landed.
"Whom did you say he married?" inquired the duke.
"Rumor said at first that it was a distant relative of yours," replied the captain, "afterward it proved to be some young lady whom he had met at a small watering-place."
"What was her name? Who was she? It was no relative of mine; I have very few; I have no young female relative at all."
"No--that was all a mistake; I cannot tell you how it arose. He married a lady of the name of Dornham."
"Dornham!" said the puzzled n.o.bleman. "The name is not unfamiliar to me--Dornham--ah, I remember!"
He said no more, but the captain saw a grave expression come over his handsome face, and it occurred to him that some unpleasant thought occurred to his companion"s mind.
Chapter x.x.x.
One of the first questions, after his return, that the Duke of Hazlewood put to his wife was about Lord Arleigh. She looked at him with an uneasy smile.
"Am I my brother"s keeper?" she asked.
"Certainly not, Philippa; but, considering that Arleigh has been as a brother to you all these years, you must take some interest in him. Is this story of his marriage true?"
"True?" she repeated. "Why, of course it is--perfectly true! Do you not know whom he has married?"
"I am half afraid to ask--half afraid to find that my suspicions have been realized."
"He has married my companion," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "I have no wish to blame him; I will say nothing."
"It is a great pity that he ever saw her," observed the duke, warmly.
"From all I hear, the man"s life is wrecked."
"I warned him," said Philippa, eagerly. "I refused at first to introduce her to him. I told him that prudence and caution were needful."
"How came it about then, Philippa?"
The d.u.c.h.ess shrugged her shoulders.
"There is a fate, I suppose, in these things. He saw her one day when I was out of the way, and, according to his own account, fell in love with her on the spot. Be that as it may, he was determined to marry her."
"It seems very strange," said the Duke of Hazlewood, musingly. "I have never known him to do anything "queer" before."
"He can never say that I did not warn him," she remarked, carelessly.
"But it was such a wretched marriage for him. Who was she, Philippa? I have never made many inquiries about her."
"I would really rather not discuss the question," said the d.u.c.h.ess; "it has no interest for me now. Norman and I have quarreled. In all probability we shall never be friends again."
"All through this marriage?" interrogated the duke.
"All through this marriage," repeated his wife--"and I know no subject that irritates me so much. Please say no more about it, Vere."
"I should like to know who the girl is," he urged. "You have never told me."
"I shall be jealous of her in a few minutes!" exclaimed Philippa "Already she has sundered an old friendship that I thought would last forever; and now, directly you return, you can talk of no one else."
"I should like to see you jealous," said the duke, who was one of the most unsuspicious of men.
She smiled; yet there came to her a sharp, bitter memory of the night on the balcony when she had been jealous of the ideal woman, the unknown love whom Norman had sketched for her.
The duke, however, was pertinacious; he could not give up the subject.
"You told me," he resumed, "that she was the daughter of an old friend of yours named Dornham--and it seems to me, Philippa, that I have some kind of remembrance of that name which is far from pleasant."
With an air of resignation the d.u.c.h.ess rose from her seat.
"I am tired, Vere," she said, "quite tired of the subject. Yet I ought not to be selfish. Of course, the incident is all new to you--you have been away from all kinds of news; to us it is an old, worn-out story.
Lord Arleigh and I quarreled and parted because of his marriage, so you may imagine it is not a very attractive subject to me."
"Well, I will say no more about it, but I am sincerely sorry, Philippa.
Of all our friends, I like Lord Arleigh best; and I shall decidedly refuse to quarrel with him. His marriage is his own affair, not mine."
"Still, you cannot make a friend of the man whom I decline to know," she rejoined, hurriedly.
"Certainly not, if you place the matter in such a light," he said, gravely. "I shall always consider it my pleasure and duty to consult you on such points. I will call no man my friend whom you dislike."
So, for the time, all danger was tided over; the duke saw that the subject annoyed his wife, and did not voluntarily resume it. He was too true a gentleman to think of discussing with another lady what he did not discuss with his own wife, so that the subject was not mentioned between Lady Peters and himself.
Then for the fair young d.u.c.h.ess of Hazlewood began the new life which had in it no old friend. If she repented of her vengeance, she did not say so. If she would fain have undone her evil deed, she never owned it.