THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XIII, Issue 1031, 8 February 1879, Page 2

THE STORY-TELLER.

WIFE IN NAME ONLY.

(Continued from. Saturday's issue). CHAtTER XLL, and Last. Philippa, Duchess of Hazlewood, was sitting m the superb drawingroom of Vere Court. It was some time since she had left town, but she had brought some portion of the gay world back with her. The Court was filled with visitors, and nothing was thought of but brilliant festivities and amusement. The~Duche3S was queen of all gaiety ; the time that • had passed had simply added to her beanty — she was now one of the handsomest women m society. It was a warm day, Ilia last day m June, and Yete Court had never seemed so biilli'-uifc. The lovely young Duchess had withdrawn for a short time from her guests. Most of them had gone oat riding or driving. There was to be a grand ball that evening, and her Grace of Hazlewood did not wish to fatigue herself before ifc came off. As for driving or riding m the hot sun, simply because the clay was fine, and the country fair, she did not believe m it. She had retired to her drawing-room ; a soft couch had been placed near one of the open windo.vs, and the breeze that came m was heavy with perfume. On the stand by her side lay a richly-jewelled fan, a bottle of sweet scent, a boquet of heliotrope — hor .favorite flower — and one or two books which she had selected to read. She lay, with her dark, queenly head on the soft cushon of crimson velvet, m an attitude that would have charmed a painter. But the Duchess was not wasting the light of her dark eyes over a book. She had closed them, as a flower closes its leaves m the heat of the sun. As she lay there, beautiful, languid, graceful, the picture she formed was a marvellously rich study of color. So thought the Duke, who, unheard by her, had entered the room. Everything had prospered with his Grace. He had always been extremely wealthy, but his wealth ' had been increased m a sadden aud unexpected fashion. On one of his ! estates m the North a vein of coal had been discovered which was one of the richest m England. The proceeds of it added wonderfully to his income, aud promised to add still more. No luxury was wanting ; the Duchess had al\ that her heart even m its wildest caprices could desire. The Duke loved her with as keen and as passionate a love as ever. He had refused to go out this morning because she had not gone ; and now he stood watching her, with something like adoration m his face — the beautiful woman m her flowing draperies of amber and white. He went up to her and touched her bro\y lightly with his lipa. 'Are you asleep, my darling ?' he asked. 'No,' she replied, opening her eyes. * I have something to read to you — something wonderful.' Sho roused herself, ' Your geese are generally swam), Vere. What is the wonder '?' ' Listen, Philippa, aud, as the Duke aoanned the newspaper m his hands, he sang tha tirsi few lines of bis favorite song — Queen Philippa Hat m Imv bowcv alone. Ah, here it is, he broke off, 'lain sure you will say that this is wonderful. It explains all that I could not understand— and, for Arleigh'ssako, I am glad, though what you will say to it I cannot think.. 1 And, sitting down by her side, he read to her the newspaper account of the Arleigh romance. , He read it without interruption, and the queenly woman listening to , him knew that her vev-enge lia<l failed, and that, instead of punishing the man who had slighted her love, she luid given to him one of the sweetest, noblest, and wealthiest girls m England, She knew that hqr vengeance had failed — that she had simply crowned Lord ArleigYs lite with, tta Iqve of v de.TQtqd

When the Duke looked up from his fmpur to see what was (he effect of his news, he saw that the Duchess had quietly fainted away, and lay with the pallor of death on her face. He believed that the heat was tho cause, ahd never suspected his wife's* sh!\re m the story. She recovered after a few minutes. She did not know whether she wta more glad or sorry at what she ntd heard. She had said once before of herself that she hid not strength enough to be thoroughly wicked— and she was right. .** # * * A. year had elapsed, and Lord Arleigh and his wife were m town for the season, ana, as a matter of course, the objects of much curiosity. He was sitting one evening m the drawing-room of Ins Wn-hoase, when one of the servants told him that a lady wished to see him. iie inquired her name, and was told that she declined to give it. He ordered her to be shown into the room where he was, and presently there entered a tall, stately lady, whose face was closely veiled ; but the limerial figure— the stateV gracewere quite familiar to him. 'nJu hilip ? a ! ' ho eried > astonishment. liien she raised her veil, and once * again he saw the grandly-beautiful face oi the woman who had loved him with such passionate love. 1 Philippa !' he repeated. Yes,' said the Duchess, calmly. ' And do you know why I am here ?' 'I cannot even guess,' he replied. I am here to implore your pardon/ she announced, with deep humility— 'to tell you that neither by night nor by day, since I planned and carried out my revenge, have I known peace. I shall neither live nor die m peace unless you forgive me, Norman.' She bent her beautiful, haughty head before him— her eyes were full of tears. You will forgive me, Norman V she said, m her low, rich voice ' Remember that it was love for you which bereft me of my reason and drove me mad— love for you. You should pardon me.' Leaving her standing there, Lord Arleigh drew aside the velvet hangings and disappeared. In a few moments, he returned, leading his wife by the hand. 'Philippa,' he said, gravely, 'tell my wife your errand ; hear what she says. We will abide by her decision.' At first, the Duchess drew back with a haughty gesture. ' It was you I came to see,' she said to Lord Arleigh ; and then the sweet face touched her, and her better self prevailed. 'Madaline,' she said, m a voice of emotion, ' you have suffered much through me — will you pardon me ?' The next moment, Lady Arleigh's arnia were clasped round her neck, and the puro sweet lips touched her own. 'It was because you loved him,' sho whispered, ' and I forgive you.' * * •* The Duke of Hazlewood did not understand the quarrel between his wife and Lord Arleigh, nor did he quite understand the reconciliation. Still, he is very pleased that they are reconciled, for ho likes Lord Arleigh better than any friend he has ever had. He fancies, too, that his beautiful wife always seems lander to him when she has been spending some little time with Lady Arleigh. In the gallery at Verdun Royal, there is a picture called " The Little Lovers." The figures m it are those of a darkhaired, handsome boy of three, whoso hand is filled with cherries, and a lovely little girl, with hair like sunshine and a face like a rose-bud, who is accepting tha rich, ripe fruit. Those who understand smile as they look at this painting, foithe dark-haired boy is the son and heir of the Duke of Hazlewood, and the fairfaced girl is Lord Arlcigh's daughter. The Earl of Mountdoan and his wife once went to see that picture, and, as they stood smiling before it, he said— 1 It may indicate what lies m the future. Lot us hope it does, for the greatest gift of Heaven is the love of a good and pureminded wife.' [the end.]