He went abroad, and then returned home, sojourning at quiet watering
places where he thought his story and himself would be unknown.
Afterward he went to Normandy, and tried to lose the remembrance of his
troubles in his search after the picturesque. But, when he had done
everything that he could do to relieve his distress of mind, he owned to
himself that he was a most miserable man.
Chapter XXXI.
A year and a half bad passed, and Lord Arleigh was still, as it were,
out of the world. It was the end of April, a spring fresh and beautiful.
His heart had turned to Beechgrove, where the violets were springing and
the young larches were budding; but he could not go thither--the
picture-gallery was a haunted spot to him--and London he could endure.
The fashionable intelligence told him that the Duke and Duchess of
Hazlewood had arrived for the season, that they had had their
magnificent mansion refurnished, and that the beautiful duchess intended
to startle all London by the splendor and variety of her entertainments.
He said to himself that it would be impossible for him to remain in town
without seeing them--and see them of his own free will he never would
again.
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