THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume X, Issue 909, 20 April 1878, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

* WIFE IN "NAME ONLY.

By the author of " Doha Tikjexe," "Ox Her "Wedding Mohn," " Ue])t:esied by Love," " A Woman's AYah," &c, &c. (Continued from last Saturday's issue.) CHAPTER XV. He did nob see the bitter smile with which she turned away, nor the pallor that crept even to her lips. Once again m his life Lord Arleigh was completely deceived. A week afterwards he l'eceived a note m Philippi's handwriting; it said simply — 'Dear Norman, — "You were good enough to plead the Duke's cause. When you meet him nejffc, ask him if he has anything" to tell you. • Philippa L'Estuange.' What the Duke of Hazlewoocl had to tell was that Miss L'Esfrange had promised to be his .vife, and that the marriage was to take place m August. He prayed Lord Arleigh tp bo present as his 'tjQst man' on the occasion. On the same evening Lady Peters and Miss L'Estrange sat m the drawing-room at Verdun House alone. Philippa had veen very restless She had been walking to and fro ; she had opaned her piano and closed it j she hod taken up volume after voluino and laid it down again, when suddenly her eyes foil upoa a book prettily bound m crimson and gold which L.ivy Peters had b'rien voiding 1 . < What book is that ?' she asked, suddenly. < Loivl L/Uon's " Lidy of Lyqns" ? roplie.l Lady Peters. Phi ippa raised it, looked through it, and then, with a strange smile and a deep sigh, laid it down. ' At last,' she said — f X have fouud it at last !'

' Found what, my dear ?' asked Lady Puters, looking up. ' Sornothvig I have been aearchincr for,' replied Philippa, as siie quitiecl the room, still with the same strange smile on her lips. Tho great event of the year succeeding was the appearance of the Duches3 of ILizlewood. Miss L 1 lilstrange, the belle and the heiress, had ba?,u very popular ; lieu C4mce of Hazlewood was more popular still. She was queen of the fashiouab^e London. At her mansion all the most exclusive met. She had reiolved upon giving her life to society — upon cultivating it — upon making herself its mistress and queen. She succeeded. She became essentially a leader of society. To belong to the Dunchess of JiazlewoocVd " set " was considered to be very desirable. The beautiful youngDuchess had made up her mind upon two things. The. first was, that she would be a queen of society ; the second, that she would reign over such a.circle as had never been gathered together before. She would have youth, beaut}', wit, genius — she would not trouble about wealth She would admit no one who was not famous for some quali6cation or other — some grace of body or mind some talent ov gift. Her house should be open to talent of all kinds, but never open to anything commonplace. She would be the encourager of genius, the patroness of the fine arts, the friend of all talent. It was a splendid career that she marked out for herself, and she was the one woman m England especially adapted for it. The only objection to it was that, while she gave every scope to imagination, — while she provided for all intellectual wants and needs — she made no allowance for the affections; they never entered into her calculations. In a few weeks, half London was talking about the beautiful Duchess of Hazlewood. In all the " Fashionfcble Intelligence" of the day she had a long paragraph to herself. If a bazaar, a fancy fair, or a ball, were needed to aid some charitable cause, she was always chosen 'as patroness; her vote, her interest, one word from her was all-sufficient. Her wedding had been a scene of the mo -t gorgeous magnificence. She had been married from her house at Verdun Royul, and half the county had been present at what was certainly the most magnificent ceremonial of the year. The leading journal, the "Illustrated Intelligence," produced a supplement on the occasion. The Duke gave the celebrated artist, Monsieur Delorme, a commission (o paint the interior of the church at Verdun Royal as it appeared while the ceremony was proceeding. That picture forms the chief ornament now of the grand gallery at the Court. ; The wedding presents were something wonderful to behold ; it was considered that the Duchess had one of the largest fortunes m England m jewels alone. The wedding took place on the fourth of August, and it had seemed as though Nature herself had done her utmost to make the day most brilliant. It was not often that so beautiful a bride was seen as the young Duchess. Sht» bore he? part m the scene very bravely. The papers told how Lord A rleigh was " best man " on the occasion ; but no one guessed, even ever so faintly, of the tragedy that cams that morning to a crisis. The happy pair went ®ff to Vere Court, the Duke's favorite residence, and there for a short time the public lost sight of them. If the Duke had been asked to continue the history of his we Jdinjy day, he would have told a strange story — how, when they were m the railway carriage together, he had turned to his beautiful wife with some loving words, and she had cried out that she wanted air, to let no one come near her—^thafc she stretched out her hands wildly, us thousfh beating- off something terrible. He believed that she was overcome by excitement or the heat of the day. He soothed her as he would have soothed a child, and, when they reached Vere Cjurt, he insisted that she should rest. SUe did so. Her dark hair fell round her white neck and shoulders, her beautiful face was flushed, the scarlet lips trembled as though she were a grieving child, and the young Duke stood watching hor, thinking how fair she wasaud what a treasure bo had won, Then he henrd her murmur some words — what were they ? He could not quite distinguish them j it was something about a Puritan maiden, Priscilla, and John — he could not catch the name — something that did not concern him, and m which ho had no part. Suddenly she held out her arms, and, m a voice he never forgot, cried, ' Oh, my love, my love I' That, ot course, meant himself. Down on his knees by her side wont the youn«- Duke — ho. covered her bands with kisses. ' My darling,' he said, ' you are better now. ' I have been alarmed about you, Puilippa, I feared that you were ill. My darling, give tqe a word and a smilo/ She had quite recovered herself Mien ; she remembered that she was Duchess of H-izlewood — wife of the generous nobleman who was at her side. She was mistress of herself m a inomeut, * Have I alarmed you P she qa-id. ' I did liee-1 ill ; but lam better now — quite well, m fact-.' She said to herself that she had her new' life to begin, and the sooner she began it the befctpr ; so she made herself very charming 1 to the young

Duke, and he. was m ectasies over the priza he \nu\ won.. Thenceforward they lived happily enough. If the young Duke found his wife less loving, less tender of heart, he made no complaint. ' She is so beautiful and gifted,' he would say to himself, { I cannot expect everything. I knoV that she loves me, although she does not say much about it. ' I know that I can trust her m all things, although she makes no protestations. Tuey fell into Hie general routine of Hfc. One loved — the other allowed herself to be loved. The Duke adored his wife, and she accepted his adoration. They were never spoken of as a model couple, although every one agreed that it was an excellent mateh — that they were very happy. The Duke looked up with wondering 1 admiration to the beautiful lady who bare his name. She could not do wrong m his eves ; everything she said was nght, all she did was perfect. He never dreamed of opposing her wishes. There was no lady m England so completely her own mistress, so completely mistress of everyone and everything around her, as her Grace of Hazlewood. When the season came round again, and the brilliant life which she had laid out for herself was hers, she might have been the happiest of women but for the cloud which darkened her whole existence. Lord Arleigh had kept lfis promise — he had bseu her trae frieud, with her husband's full permission. The Duke was too noble and generous himself to feel any such ignoble passion as jealousy — he was far too confid'ng. To be jealous of his wife would have never entered his mind ; lior was thsre tin least occasion for it. If liivi Arleigh had been her own brother, their relationship could not have been of a more blameless kind ', evca the censorious world of fashion, so quick to detect scandal, so merciless m its enjjyment of one, never presumed to cast an aspersion on this friendship. T ere was sometlifng so frank, so open about it, thatblame was an impossibility. If the Dake w.is busy or engaged when his wife wanted to ride or drive, he asked her cousin Lord Arleigh to take his place, as he would have aske.l his <r.vu brother. If the the Duke could not attend opera or bali Lord Arleigh was at hand. Heoften said that it was a matter of perplexity to him which was his own horne — whether he liked Tbechgrovs, Veidun Royal, or Veie Court best. ' No one was over so happy, so blp-ssed with true friends, as I am,' he would s:iy ; at which speech the young Duchess would smile that strange fathomless smile so few understood. If t'uey went to Vere 0 >urfc, Lord Arloigh was generally asked to g> with them — the Duke really liked hi cn -'.i graat deal for his own sake, more still for the sake of his wife. He could understaud the childish friendship having grown with their growth ; and he was too noble to expect anything less than perfect sinoerity and truth. The Duchess kept her word. She made no further allusion to the Puritan maiden— that little episode had, so it nppeared, completely escaped her -memory. Tliere was oii3 thing to be noticed — she often read (he 'Lu'ly of Lyons,' and ' appeared to delight m it. Wh^nshe had looked through a -few pages, she would close tin book with a sigh and a strange brooding smile. At times, too she would tease Lord Avhiigh about his ideal woman; but i hat was always m her husband's presence. ' You have not found the ideal woman, ycfc, Norman, s'ie would ask him, laughingly ; and he would answer, • No, not yet.' Then the Duke would wax eloquent, and tell him that he really knew little of life — that if he wanted to be happy he must look for a wife. ' You were easily contented,' the Duchess would say. ' Norman wants an ideal. You were content with a mere mortal — he will IK/Qr be.' ' Then find him an ideal, PI iiippa,' 1 would be the Duke's reply. < You know some of the nicest girls m Londou ; find him an ideal amongst them. Then to the beautiful face would come the strange brooding smile. ' Uivo mo time,' would her Grace of Hazlewood say ; • I shall find just what I want for him-*-in time,