Lord Arleigh could not help noticing the
admiring glances cast on her as they entered the park together. He saw
how completely she was queen of society. Unusual homage followed her.
She was the observed of all observers; all the men seemed to pause and
look at her. Lord Arleigh heard repeatedly, as they rode along, the
question, "Who is that beautiful girl?" Every one of note or distinction
contrived to speak to her. The Prince of Auboine, at that time the most
_feted_ guest in England, could hardly leave her. Yet, in the midst of
all, Lord Arleigh saw that she turned to him as the sunflower to the
sun. No matter with whom she was conversing, she never for one moment
forgot him, never seemed inattentive, listened to him, smiled her
brightest on him, while the May sun shone, and the white hawthorn
flowers fell on the grass--while the birds chirped merrily, and crowds
of bright, happy people passed to and fro.
"How true she is to her old friends!" thought Lord Arleigh, when he saw
that even a prince could not take her attention from him.
So they rode on through the sunlit air--he fancy free, she loving him
every moment with deeper, truer, warmer love.
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