showed him his most cordial and sincere liking. Then they became warm
friends. The duke confided in Lord Arleigh--he told him the whole story
of his love for Miss L'Estrange.

"I know," he said, "that no one has so much influence over her as you. I
do not believe in the absurd stores told about an engagement between
you, but I see plainly that she is your friend, and that you are hers;
and I want you to use your influence with her in my favor."

Lord Arleigh promised to do so--and he intended to keep his promise;
they were on such intimate and friendly terms that he could venture upon
saying anything of that kind to her. She would not be displeased--on the
contrary, she would like his advice; it might even be that before now
she had wished to ask for it, but had not liked to do so--so completely
did these two play at cross-purposes and misunderstand each other.

It was easier to say to himself that he would speak to her as the duke
wished than to do it. He saw that any allusion to her lovers or admirers
made her ill at ease--she did not like it; even his laughing comments on
the homage paid to her did not please her.

"I do not like lovers," she said to him one day, "and I am tired of
admirers--I prefer friends."

"But," he opposed, laughingly, "if all that wise men and philosophers[2]
tell us is correct, there are no true friends."

He never forgot the light that shone in her face as she raised it to
his.