Everything had prospered with his grace.  He had always been extremely wealthy, but his wealth had been increased in a sudden and unexpected fashion.  On one of his estates in the north a vein of coal had been discovered, which was one of the richest in England.  The proceeds of it added wonderfully to his income, and promised to add still more.  No luxury was wanting; the duchess had all that her heart, even in its wildest caprices, could desire.  The duke loved her with as keen and passionate a love as ever.  He had refused to go out this morning, because she had not gone; and now he stood watching her with something like adoration in his face—­the beautiful woman, in her flowing draperies of amber and white.  He went up to her and touched her brow lightly with his lips.

“Are you asleep, my darling?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, opening her eyes.

“I have something to read to you—­something wonderful.”

She roused herself.

“Your geese are generally swans, Vere.  What is the wonder?”

“Listen, Philippa;” and, as the duke scanned the newspaper in his hands, he sang the first few lines of his favorite song: 

    “‘Queen Philippa sat in her bower alone.’

“Ah, here it is!” he broke off.  “I am sure you will say that this is wonderful.  It explains all that I could not understand—­and, for Arleigh’s sake, I am glad, though what you will say to it, I cannot think.”

And, sitting down by her side, he read to her the newspaper account of the Arleigh romance.

He read it without interruption, and the queenly woman listening to him knew that her revenge had failed, and that, instead of punishing the man who had slighted her love, she had given him one of the sweetest, noblest and wealthiest girls in England.  She knew that her vengeance had failed—­that she had simply crowned Lord Arleigh’s life with the love of a devoted wife.

When the duke looked up from his paper to see what was the effect of his news, he saw that the duchess had quietly fainted away, and lay with the pallor of death on her face.  He believed that the heat was the cause, and never suspected his wife’s share in the story.

She recovered after a few minutes.  She did not know whether she was more glad or sorry at what she had heard.  She had said once before of herself that she was not strong enough to be thoroughly wicked—­and she was right.

* * * * *

A year had elapsed, and Lord Arleigh and his wife were in town for the season, and were, as a matter of course, the objects of much curiosity.  He was sitting one evening in the drawing-room of his town-house, when one of the servants told him that a lady wished to see him.  He inquired her name and was told that she declined to give it.  He ordered her to be shown into the room where he was, and presently there entered a tall stately lady, whose face was closely vailed; but the imperial figure, the stately grace were quite familiar to him.