In time he began to think it strange that he had never heard anything of her. He went about in the neighborhood, yet no one spoke of having seen her. He never heard of her being at church, nor did he ever meet her on the high-road. It was strange how completely a vail of silence and mystery had fallen over her.
When he had been some time at Beechgrove he received one morning a letter from the Earl of Mountdean, saying that he was in the neighborhood, and would like to call. Lord Arleigh was pleased at the prospect. There was deep and real cordiality between the two men--they thoroughly understood and liked each other; it was true that the earl was older by many years than Lord Arleigh, but that did not affect their friendship.
They enjoyed a few days together very much. One morning they rode through the woods--the sweet, fragrant, June woods--when, from between the trees, they saw the square turrets of the Dower House. Lord Mountdean stopped to admire the view.
"We are a long distance from Beechgrove," he said; "what is that pretty place?"
Lord Arleigh's face flushed hotly.
"That," he replied, "is the Dower House, where my wife lives."
The earl looked with great interest at Lady Arleigh's dwelling-place.
"It is very pretty," he said--"pretty and quiet; but it must be dull for a young girl. You said she was young, did you not?"
"Yes, she is years younger than I am," replied Lord Arleigh.
"Poor girl!" said the earl, pityingly; "it must be rather a sad fate--so young and beautiful, yet condemned all her life to live alone. Tell me, Arleigh, did you take advice before you separated yourself so abruptly from her?"