"Of course, my lord, I shall be only too thankful to remain, but it seems so very strange--"
Lord Arleigh held up his hand.
"Hush!" he said. "A well-trained servant finds nothing strange."
The woman took the hint and retired. Lord Arleigh turned to say farewell to his wife. He found her standing, white and tearless, by the window.
"Oh, my darling," he cried, "we must now part! Yet how can I leave you--so sad, so silent, so despairing? Speak to me, my own love--one word--just one word."
Her woman's heart, so quick to pity, was touched by his prayer. She stalled as sad, as sweet a smile as ever was seen on woman's lips.
"I shall be better in time, Norman," she said, "and shall not always be sad."
"There are some business arrangements which must be made," he continued, hurriedly--"but it will be better for us not to meet again just yet, Madaline--I could not bear it. I will see that all is arranged for your comfort. You must have every luxury and--"
"Luxury!" she repeated, mockingly. "Why, I would rather be the sorriest beggar that ever breathed than be myself! Luxury! You mock me, Lord Arleigh."
"You will be less bitter against me in time, my darling," he said. "I mean just what I say--that you will have everything this world can give you--"