Margery, wrapped in her furs, took her last look at the sea, its sullen surface already broken by flecks of white. The vast expanse of dull-green water bordered by the gray sky struck her suddenly with a sense of gloom.
She turned from it with a sigh of relief; and, as she left it, determined to banish all the dreams and sad recollections it had brought her, burying all memories in its dark, unfathomable depths.
So she went away from the quiet village back to London and to life, back to duty, firm in her new-born strength and will.
“Ah, they are happy, milord and miladi, both!” sighed Pauline to her companion and fellow traveler, the earl’s valet. “She is so simple and so pretty—and they have love. Ah, monsieur, how great is that wondrous love!”
The husband and wife sat silent during the greater part of the journey. Margery, resting her head against the cushions, sat with closed eyes. The earl thought she slept, but sleep was far from her. A vague longing seized her that she might step back into the far distant past, when she knew neither the greatness of joy nor the bitterness of sorrow. If she could be once more the simple-minded girl, living in all contentment her peaceful village life, her studies the one excitement of her days! She was happier then, before she had learned the mystery of her own heart, before childhood had vanished and womanhood had come in its place.
CHAPTER XXI.
It had been Lord Court’s intention to travel with his wife straight down to Court Manor, after resting a day or two in London; but the death of his aunt, Lady Merivale, immediately on their arrival, necessitated his presence in town, as her affairs were left in his hands. Margery at first felt disappointed at the delay, but, after a week had passed she grew content. They had a suite of rooms at the Bristol, and, to Pauline’s delight, were in the very heart of London. Horses and carriages were brought up for the Countess of Court’s use during her brief stay, and the slender, black-robed girl, with sweet, pathetic face, and crown of red-gold hair, provoked universal admiration. The earl had not many near relatives; but such of his connections as were in town paid an early visit to Lady Court, and found their anticipations of dislike turn to wonder at the gracious dignity and sweetness of Margery’s presence. She soon learned that her strange, romantic marriage was the one topic of the moment in society, that every one was eager to see the unknown girl who had won the heart of Nugent, Earl of Court, so eligible, yet so disappointing a parti. It gave Margery no pleasure to receive and return the visits of the stately ladies who claimed to be her husband’s friends; still, she forced herself to do it, as the beginning of her path of duty. Every day, as she drove out, she dreaded to see those two faces whose images she could not banish from her memory; and she would shrink back in the corner of the luxurious carriage as she passed a riding party, forgetful for the minute that her own features were hidden beneath the thick, black veil, which, despite all Pauline’s protests, she would wear, forgetful, too, of the fact that, were she to meet Vane Charteris and Stuart, they would never associate Margery Daw with the Countess of Court. For no mention of her name before her marriage had crept out. The world knew that the earl had taken his sister’s companion for his wife, and there its information ended. Miss Lawson and Dr. Fothergill and his wife were alone in the secret, and with them it was safe.
One afternoon, at the beginning of the second week of their stay in town, a trial came to Margery’s pride. Lord Court was claimed by the lawyers, and, after a morning spent among her books, Margery prepared for a drive and some visits. Pauline dressed the slender, graceful figure in the black garments and fastened the sable mantle while she uttered exclamations of delight at her mistress’ appearance. She made a slight protest as the veil was produced, but Margery was firm, and the delicate face, with its great blue eyes, was completely hidden beneath the thick folds.
The first visit was to an old marchioness who had fallen a victim to Lady Court’s charm and sweetness, and Margery made great progress toward friendship. Several ladies were present, and from one and all she received kind congratulations.
“But now I want to beg a favor, dear Lady Court,” said the hostess, after a while; “it is rude of me, perhaps, but I hope you will forgive it. Will you not remove that thick veil? We cannot see your fair young face, and nature has been so lavish to you, child, you can afford to be generous.”