d so grave over
my pretty love story."

"It seems to me," observed Lady Peters, "that it is a one sided story.
You love him--you consider yourself betrothed to him. What will you say
or do, Philippa, if you find that, during his travels, he has learned to
love some one else? He has visited half the courts of Europe since he
left here; he must have seen some of the loveliest women in the world.
Suppose he has learned to love one--what then?"

The beautiful face darkened.

"What then, _maman_? I know what I should do, even in that case. He
belonged to me before he belonged to any one else, and I should try to
win him back again."

"But if his word were pledged?"

"He must break his pledge. It would be war to the knife; and I have an
idea that in the end I should win."

"But," persisted Lady Peters, "if you lost--what then?"

"Ah, then I could not tell what would happen! Love turns to burning hate
at times. If I failed I should seek revenge. But we will not talk of
failure. Oh, _maman_, there he is."

How she loved him! At the sound of his footsteps a crimson glow shone in
her face, a light shone in the depth of her splendid dark eyes; the
scarlet lips trembled. She clenched her fingers lest a sound that might
betray her should escape her.

"Lord Arleigh," announced a servant at the door.

Tall, stately, self-possessed, she went forward to greet him. She held
out her hand; but words failed her, as she looked once more into the
face she loved so well.

"Philippa!" cried the visitor, in tones of wonder. "I expected to find
you changed, but I should not have known you."

"Am I so greatly altered?" she asked.

"Altered?" he repeated, "I left you a pretty school-girl--I find you a
queen." He bowed low over the white hand.

"The queen bids you welcome," she said, and then after introducing Lady
Peters, she added: "Should you not really have known me, Norman?"

He had recovered from his first surprise, and Lady Peters, who watched
him closely, fancied that she detected some little embarrassment in his
manner. Of one thing she was quite sure--there was admiration and
affection in his manner, but there was nothing resembling love.

He greeted her, and then took a seat, not by Philippa's side, but in one
of the pretty lounging chairs by the open window.

"How pleasant it is to be home again!" he said. "How pleasant, Philippa,
to see you!" And then he began to talk of Lady L'Estrange. "It seems
strange," he went