“I should think you the very queen of beauty,” was the truthful answer.

A pleased smile curved the lovely, scarlet lips.

“So will Norman.  You will see, maman, there is no cause for anxiety, none for fear.  You will soon be wondering why you looked 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 on, “that your mother and mine, after being such true friends in life, should die within a few days of each other.  I would give the whole world to see my mother again.  I shall find Beechgrove so lonely without her.”