sailor, for I can imagine
nothing pleasanter than life on board such a yacht as that. But, while
you are cruising about, Vere, I shall go to Verdun Royal and take
Madaline with me; then I shall go to Vere Court--make a kind of royal
progress, set everything straight and redress all wrongs, hold a court
at each establishment I shall enjoy that more than yachting."

"But I shall miss you so much, Philippa," said the young husband.

"We have the remainder of our lives to spend together," she rejoined;
"if you are afraid of missing me too much, you had better get rid of the
yacht."

But he would not hear of that--he was delighted with the beautiful and
valuable present. The yacht was christened "Queen Philippa"; and it was
decided that, when the end of the season had come, the duke should take
his beautiful wife to Verdun Royal, and, after having installed her
there, should go at once to sea. He had invited a party of friends--all
yachtsmen like himself--and they had agreed to take "Queen Philippa" to
the Mediterranean, there to cruise during the autumn months.

As it was settled so it was carried out; before the week had ended the
duke, duchess, and Madeline were all at Verdun Royal. Perhaps the proud
young wife had never realized before how completely her husband loved
her. This temporary parting was to him a real pain.

A few days before it took place he began to look pale and ill. She saw
that he could not eat, that he did not sleep or rest. Her heart was
touched by his simple fidelity, his passionate love, although the one
fell purpose of her life remained unchanged.

"If you dislike going, Vere," she said to him one day, "do not go--stay
at Verdun Royal."

"The world would laugh if I did that, Philippa," he returned; "it would
guess at once what was the reason, because every one knows how dearly I
love you. We should be called _Darby_ and _Joan_."

"No one would ever dare to call me _Joan_," she said, "for I have
nothing of _Joan_ in me."

The duke sighed--perhaps he thought that it would be all the better if
she had; but, fancying there was something, after all, slightly
contemptuous in her manner, as though she thought it unmanly in him to
repine about leaving her, he said no more.

One warm, brilliant day he took leave of her and she was left to work
out her purpose. She never forgot the day of his departure--it was one
of those hot days when the summer skies seemed to be half obscured by a
copper-colo