“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 Duchess 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 amusement.  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 Duchess 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.”