reeable to Philippa. He felt that some degree of restraint had arisen
between them.

He was thinking what excuse he could frame, when Philippa sent for him.
He looked into the fresh young face; there was no cloud on it.

"Norman," she said, "I find that Lady Peters has asked Miss Byrton to
join us at dinner--will you come now? It has been a charming day, but I
must own that the warmth of the sun has tired me."

Her tone of voice was so calm, so unruffled, he could have laughed at
himself for his suspicions, his fears.

"I am quite ready," he replied. "If you would like the carriage ordered,
we will go at once."

He noticed her going home more particularly than he had ever done
before. She was a trifle paler, and there was a languid expression in
her dark eyes which might arise from fatigue, but she talked lightly as
usual. If anything, she was even kinder to him than usual, never
evincing the least consciousness of what had happened. Could it have
been a dream? Never was man so puzzled as Lord Arleigh.

They talked after dinner about a grand fancy ball that Miss Byrton
intended giving at her mansion in Grosvenor Square. She was one of those
who believed implicitly in the engagement between Lord Arleigh and Miss
L'Estrange.

"I have a Waverley quadrille already formed," said Miss Byrton--"that is
_de rigueur_. There could not be a fancy ball without a Waverley
quadrille. How I should like two Shakesperian ones! I thought of having
one from 'As You Like It' and another from 'Romeo and Juliet;' and, Miss
L'Estrange, I wish you would come as _Juliet_. It seems rude even to
suggest a character to any one with such perfect taste as yours--still I
should like a beautiful _Juliet--Juliet_ in white satin, and glimmer of
pearls."

"I am quite willing," returned Philippa. "_Juliet_ is one of my favorite
heroines. How many _Romeos_ will you have?"

"Only one, if I can so manage it," replied Miss Byrton--"and that will
be Lord Arleigh."

She looked at him as she spoke; he shook his head, laughingly.

"No--I yield to no one in reverence for the creations of the great
poet," he said; "but, to tell the truth, I do not remember that the
character of _Romeo_ ever had any great charm for me."

"Why not?" asked Miss Byrton.

"I cannot tell you; I am very much afraid that I prefer _Othello_--the
noble Moor. Perhaps it is because sentiment has not any great attraction
for me. I do not think I could ever kill myself for love.