ure would you care to resemble?"

A sudden gleam of light came into her dark eyes.

"The one underneath which you would write 'My Queen,'" she said,
hurriedly.

He did not understand.

"I think every one with an eye to beauty would call you 'queen,'" he
observed, lightly. The graver meaning of her speech had quite escaped
him.

Then Lady Peters returned, and the conversation changed.

"We are going to hear an _opera-bouffe_ to-night," said Philippa, when
Lord Arleigh was leaving. "Will you come and be our escort?"

"You will have a box filled with noisy chatterers the whole night," he
remarked, laughingly.

"They shall all make room for you, Norman, if you will come," she said.
"It is 'La Grande Duchesse,' with the far-famed Madame Schneider as her
Grace of Gerolstein."

"I have not heard it yet," returned Lord Arleigh. "I cannot say that I
have any great admiration for that school of music, but, if you wish it,
I will go, Philippa.

"It will increase my enjoyment a hundredfold," she said, gently, "if you
go."

"How can I refuse when you say that? I will be here punctually," he
promised; and again the thought crossed his mind how true she was to her
old friends--how indifferent to new ones!

On that evening Philippa changed her customery style of dress--it was no
longer the favorite amber, so rich in hue and in texture, but white,
gleaming silk, relieved by dashes of crimson. A more artistic or
beautiful dress could not have been designed. She wore crimson roses in
her dark hair, and a cluster of crimson roses on her white breast. Her
bouquet was of the same odorous flowers. In the theater Lord Arleigh
noticed that Philippa attracted more attention than any one else, even
though the house was crowded; he saw opera-glasses turned constantly
toward her beautiful face.

Miss L'Estrange kept her word, saying but little to those who would fain
have engrossed her whole attention--that was given, to Lord Arleigh. She
watched his face keenly throughout the performance. He did not evince
any great interest in it.

"You do not care for 'La Grande Duchesse?'" she said.

"No--frankly, I do not," he replied.

"Tell me why," said Philippa.

"Can you ask me to do so, Philippa?" he returned, surprised; and then he
added, "I will tell you. First of all, despite the taking music, it is a
performance to which I should not care to bring my wife and sister."

"Tell me why?" she said, again.

"It lowers my idea of w