Neither of them were prepared to hear the story that Ulric, Earl of Linleigh, had to tell them. Even to the duchess, who honestly believed her daughter was in love with the earl, her conduct seemed strange. She was nervous, she talked but little, yet it was the look of happy, dreamy content that sat on her face.
It struck the duchess at last—there was no mistake about it—Lady Estelle looked exceedingly ill. She had expected to see her daughter manifest some little sign of delight at the coming of her lover; she had expected some little attention to dress, some of the many hundred pretty ways of showing delight, but she saw none.
Then the day dawned which was to bring the earl, and the duchess felt sure, from her daughter's face, that she had spent the greater part of the night in tears.
Through some mistake in the time of his arrival, Lady Estelle was alone; the duke had not returned from his drive, and the duchess had driven over to the neighboring presbytery. The earl was not expected until six, but he arrived at four. It was perhaps well for Lady Estelle that she had not more time for anticipation; it was a terrible time for her—a trying ordeal.
She was alone in the library when she heard the sound of carriage-wheels; she never dreamed it was he till the sudden opening of the library door, and the footman announced:
"The Earl of Linleigh!"
She often wondered in after years that she had not died in that moment. But the pride and self-control of long years came to her aid; she rose, pale as marble, cold, dignified, ready to die rather than yield to emotion; and without one word, she held out her hand in greeting to her husband. He was looking at her with eyes that seemed to devour her.
"Estelle," he murmured; then, ready, eloquent, debonair as he was, he could say no more. Was it possible—gracious Heaven!—was it possible that this pale, proud, beautiful woman, so haughty that she looked as though nothing could touch her—was it possible that she was the fair young Estelle who had sacrificed everything for him, and been so cruelly rewarded? Was this magnificent woman really his wife?
"Estelle," he repeated. He drew nearer, as though he would caress her.
She shrunk from him.