Their love was so perfect a thing that they had never denied each other
aught. Why should they; indeed, how could they? Each so understood and
trusted the other that they scarce had need for words in the deciding
of such questions as other pairs must reason gravely over. There was no
question, only one thought between them, and in his life a thing which
grew each hour as he had long since known it would. 'Twas this woman
whom he loved--this _one_--her looks, her ways, her laughter and her
tears, her very faults, if she should have them, her past, her present,
and her future which seemed all himself.
That--Duchess of Osmonde though she might be--she was known in dark
places and moved among the foul evil there, like the sun which strove
at rare hours to cleanse and dispel it; that she had in kennels and
noisome dens strange friends, was a thing at first vaguely rumoured
because the world had ever loved its stories of her, and been ready to
believe any it heard and invent new ones when it had tired of the old.
But there came a time when through a strange occurrence the rumour was
proved, most singularly, to be a truth.
Two gilt coaches, full of chattering fine ladies and gentlemen, were
being driven on a certain day through a part of the town not ordinarily
frequented by fashion, but the occupants of the coaches had been
entertaining themselves with a great and curious sight it had been
their delicate fancy to desire to behold as an exciting novelty.
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