And again the vexing question which she has forgotten since yesterday, recurs to Lady Vera's mind:
"What form will my vengeance take?"
But no faintest idea comes to her of the terrible truth. If anyone were to whisper it to her in these first hours of her great new happiness, it would surely strike her dead. The shock of pain would be too great for endurance.
But fate withholds the blow as yet, and some golden days of peace and happiness dawn for Lady Vera.
With Lady Clive's arrival she inaugurates a little reign of gaiety that rejoices the heart of Mrs. Vance. She gives and receives invitations. Colonel Lockhart rides over daily to spend long hours by his lady's side, reading, singing, talking to each other in the low, sweet tones of lovers. Lord Gordon consoles himself with Miss Montgomery, who secretly confides to him that she "cannot imagine what Colonel Lockhart sees in that haughty Lady Fairvale."
"She is beautiful," Lord Gordon answers, loyal to his old love yet.
"I do not admire her style. She is too slim—too American in her looks," Miss Montgomery rejoins. She is inclined to embonpoint herself, and envies every slender woman she sees.
Lord Gordon does not dispute her charge. He is too wise for that. But in his heart he wonders why Lady Vera had reconsidered her rejection of his friend, and wishes that he had been the happy man blest by her preference.
Lady Vera, on her part, has quite forgotten the coquette's existence in her serene, new happiness. Philip is her love, her lord, her king. She forgets all else save him who holds her heart. The light comes back to her eyes, the roundness and color to her cheek. She is dazzlingly lovely in the new beauty that love brings to her face.
The days pass, and they begin to talk of going up to London. The lovely fall weather is over, and mists and rain obscure the sky. They are glad to huddle around the glowing fires in the luxurious rooms, and Lady Clive's thoughts begin to turn on the subject most dear to the fashionable woman's heart—new dresses.