The duchess, too, had
a book, but she made no pretense of opening it--her beautiful face had a
restless, half-wistful expression. They had quitted the drawing-room all
together, but Madaline had gone to gather some peaches. The duchess
liked them freshly gathered, and Madaline knew no delight so keen as
that of giving her pleasure.
When she had been gone some few minutes, Lord Arleigh asked where she
was, and the duchess owned, laughingly, to her fondness for ripe,
sun-kissed peaches.
"Madaline always contrives to find the very best forms," she said. "She
is gone to look for some now."
"I will go and help her," said Lord Arleigh, looking at Philippa's face.
He thought the fair cheeks themselves not unlike peaches, with their
soft, sweet, vivid coloring.
She smiled to herself with bitter scorn as he went away.
"It works well," she said; "but it is his own fault--Heaven knows, his
own fault."
An hour afterward Lady Peters said to her, in a very solemn tone of
voice:
"Philippa, my dear, it may not be my duty to speak, but I cannot help
asking you if you notice anything?"
"No, nothing at this minute.
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