"Then I want you to tell me why you will not marry the Duke of Hazlewood. You have treated me as your brother and your friend. The question might seem impertinent from another; from me it will not appear impertinent, not curious--simply true and kindly interest. Why will you not marry him, Philippa?" A quick sharp spasm of pain passed over her face. She was silent for a minute before she answered him, and then she said: "The reason is very simple, Norman--because I do not love him." "That is certainly a strong reason; but, Philippa, let me ask you now another question--why do you not love him?" She could have retorted, "Why do you not love me?" but prudence forbade it. "I cannot tell you. I have heard you say that love is fate. I should imagine it must be because the Duke of Hazlewood is not my fate." He did not know what answer to make to that, it was so entirely his own way of thinking. "But, Philippa," he resumed after a pause, "do you not think that you might love him if you tried?" "I have never thought about it," was the quiet reply. Lord Arleigh continued: "In my idea he is one of the most charming men in England; I have never seen a more perfect type of what an English gentleman should be--he is noble, generous, brave, chivalrous. What fault do you find with him, Philippa?" "I?" she asked, looking up at him in wonder. "My dear Norman, I have never found fault with the duke in my life." "Then why can you not love him?" "That is a very different thing. I find no fault with him; on the contrary, I agree with you that he is one of the noblest of men, yet I have never thought of marrying him." "But, Philippa"--and with kindly impressiveness he laid one hand on her shoulder--"why do you not think of marrying him? Between you and myself there can be no compliments, no flattery. I tell you that of all the women in England you are the most fitted to be the Duchess of Hazlewood--and you would be a beautiful duchess, too. Think of the position you would occupy--second only to royalty. I should like to see you in such a position--you would fill it grandly. Think of the power, the influence, the enormous amount of good you could do; think of it all, Philippa?" He did not see the sudden, sharp quiver of pain that passed over the beautiful face, nor how pale it grew in the starlight. "I am thinking," she answered, quietly--"I am listening attentively to all that you say." She drew the light scarf more closely around her shoulders and shuddered as though a chill breeze had passed over her. "Are you cold, dear?" he asked kindly. "Cold! How could I be on this warm starlit night? Go on, Norman; let me hear all that you have to say."