"Ah, here it is!" he broke off. "I am sure you will say that this is wonderful. It explains all that I could not understand--and, for Arleigh"s sake, I am glad, though what you will say to it, I cannot think."
And, sitting down by her side, he read to her the newspaper account of the Arleigh romance.
He read it without interruption, and the queenly woman listening to him knew that her revenge had failed, and that, instead of punishing the man who had slighted her love, she had given him one of the sweetest, n.o.blest and wealthiest girls in England. She knew that her vengeance had failed--that she had simply crowned Lord Arleigh"s life with the love of a devoted wife.
When the duke looked up from his paper to see what was the effect of his news, he saw that the d.u.c.h.ess had quietly fainted away, and lay with the pallor of death on her face. He believed that the heat was the cause, and never suspected his wife"s share in the story.
She recovered after a few minutes. She did not know whether she was more glad or sorry at what she had heard. She had said once before of herself that she was not strong enough to be thoroughly wicked--and she was right.
A year had elapsed, and Lord Arleigh and his wife were in town for the season, and were, as a matter of course, the objects of much curiosity.
He was sitting one evening in the drawing-room of his town-house, when one of the servants told him that a lady wished to see him. He inquired her name and was told that she declined to give it. He ordered her to be shown into the room where he was, and presently there entered a tall stately lady, whose face was closely vailed; but the imperial figure, the stately grace were quite familiar to him.
"Philippa!" he cried, in astonishment.
Then she raised her vail, and once again he saw the grandly-beautiful face of the woman who had loved him with such pa.s.sionate love.
"Philippa!" he repeated.
"Yes," said the d.u.c.h.ess, calmly. "And do you know why I am here?"
"I cannot even guess," he replied.
"I am here to implore your pardon," she announced, with deep humility--"to tell you that neither by night nor by day, since I planned and carried out my revenge, have I known peace. I shall neither live nor die in peace unless you forgive me, Norman."
She bent her beautiful, haughty head before him--her eyes were full of tears.
"You will forgive me, Norman?" she said in her low, rich voice.
"Remember that it was love for you which bereft me of my reason and drove me mad--love for you. You should pardon me."
Leaving her standing there, Lord Arleigh drew aside the velvet hangings and disappeared. In a few moments he returned leading his wife by the hand.
"Philippa," he said, gravely, "tell my wits your errand; hear what she says. We will abide by her decision."
At first the d.u.c.h.ess drew back with a haughty gesture.
"It was you I came to see," she said to Lord Arleigh; and then the sweet face touched her and her better self prevailed.
"Madaline," she said, quietly, "you have suffered much through me--will you pardon me?"
The next moment Lady Arleigh"s arms were clasped round her neck, and the pure sweet lips touched her own.
"It was because you loved him," she whispered, "and I forgive you."
The Duke of Hazlewood did not understand the quarrel between his wife and Lord Arleigh, nor did he quite understand the reconciliation; still he is very pleased that they are reconciled, for he likes Lord Arleigh better than any friend he has ever had. He fancies, too, that his beautiful wife always seems kinder to him when she has been spending some little time with Lady Arleigh.
In the gallery at Verdun Royal there is a charming picture called "The Little Lovers." The figures in it are those of a dark-haired, handsome boy of three whose hand is filled with cherries, and a lovely little girl, with hair like sunshine and a face like a rosebud, who is accepting the rich ripe fruit. Those who understand smile as they look at this painting, for the dark-haired boy is the son and heir of the Duke of Hazlewood, and the fair-faced girl is Lord Arleigh"s daughter.
The Earl of Mountdean and his wife, _nee_ Lady Lily Gordon, once went to see that picture, and, as they stood smiling before it, he said:
"It may indicate what lies in the future. Let us hope it does for the greatest gift of Heaven is the love of a good and pure-minded wife."
By The Same Author In Uniform Style
Dora Thorne
From Gloom to Sunlight
Her Martyrdom
Golden Heart
Her Only Sin
Lady Damer"s Secret
The Squire"s Darling
Her Mother"s Sin
Wife in Name Only
Wedded and Parted
Shadow of a Sin