"What shall I do?" asked Lady Peters, hopelessly. "What am I to say?"
"Decide for yourself. I decline to offer any opinion. I say simply that if you refuse he will probably ask the favor of some one else."
"But do you advise me to consent, Philippa?" inquired Lady Peters, anxiously.
"I advise you to please yourself. Had he asked a similar favor of me, I might have granted or I might have refused it; I cannot say."
"To think of that simple, fair-faced girl being Lady Arleigh!" exclaimed Lady Peters. "I suppose that I had better consent, or he will do something more desperate. He is terribly in earnest, Philippa."
"He is terribly in love," said the duchess, carelessly, and then Lady Peters decided that she would accede to Lord Arleigh's request.
Chapter XXIII.
More than once during the week that ensued after his proposal of marriage to Madaline, Lord Arleigh looked in wonder at the duchess. She seemed so unlike herself--absent, brooding, almost sullen. The smiles, the animation, the vivacity, the wit, the brilliant repartee that had distinguished her had all vanished. More than once he asked her if she was ill; the answer was always "No." More than once he asked her if she was unhappy; the answer was always the same--"No."
"You are miserable because your husband is not here," he said to her one day, compassionately. "If you had known how much you would have missed him, you would not have let him go."
There was a wondrous depth of pain in the dark eyes raised to his.