had good blood in her veins—­was descended from an ancient and noble family.  That she had neither fortune nor position was immaterial to him.  He had understood from the duchess that the mother of his fair young love lived in quiet retirement.  He could not remember in what words all this had been told to him, but this was the impression that was on his mind.  So he had determined on making Madaline his wife if he could but win her consent.  The only thing to be feared was her own unwillingness.  She was fair and fragile, but she had a wonderful strength of will.

He had thought it all over.  He remembered well what the duchess had said about the duke’s not caring to hear the matter mentioned.  Lord Arleigh could understand that, with all his gentleness, Hazlewood was a proud man, and that, if there had been a mesalliance in his family, he would be the last to wish it discussed.  Still Lord Arleigh knew that he would approve of the marriage.  It was plain, however, that it would be better for it to take place while he was away from England, and then it would not, could not in any way compromise him.  A quiet marriage would not attract attention.

If he could only win Madeline’s consent.  She had been so unwilling to promise him her friendship, and then so unwilling to hear that he loved her.  He could form no idea how she would receive the offer of marriage that he intended to make her.

That was why he wished to go alone.  He would have time and opportunity then.  As for Philippa, he did not fear any real objection from her; if she once believed or thought that his heart was fixed on marrying Madaline, he was sure she would help him.

Marry Madaline he must—­life was nothing to him without her.  He had laughed at the fever called love.  He knew now how completely love had mastered him.  He could think of nothing but Madaline.

He went down to Verdun Royal, heart and soul so completely wrapped in Madaline that he hardly remembered Philippa—­hardly remembered that he was going as her guest; he was going to woo Madeline—­fair, sweet Madaline—­to ask her to be his wife, to try to win her for his own.

It was afternoon when he reached Verdun Royal.  The glory of summer was over the earth.  He laughed at himself, for he was nervous and timid; he longed to see Madaline, yet trembled at the thought of meeting her.

“So this is love?” said Lord Arleigh to himself, with a smile.  “I used to wonder why it made men cowards, and what there was to fear; I can understand it now.”

Then he saw the gray towers and turrets of Verdun Royal rising from the trees; he thought of his childish visits to the house, and how his mother taught him to call the child Philippa his little wife.  Who would have thought in those days that Philippa would live to be a duchess, and that he should so wildly worship, so madly love a fairer, younger face?

He was made welcome at Verdun Royal.  Lady Peters received him as though he were her own son.  Then the duchess entered, with a glad light in her eyes, and a smile that was half wistful.  She greeted him warmly; she was pleased to see him—­pleased to welcome him; the whole house was at his service, and everything in it.  He had never seen the duchess look better; she wore her favorite colors, amber and white.