She smiled up into his eyes. "Yes!--and I will obey!"
"Very well! Now listen!" and he held her by both hands, and looked with sudden gravity into her sweet face--"Thelma, my wife, thus sayeth your lord and master,--despise the vulgar indecencies of fashion, and you will gratify me more than words can say;--keep your pure and beautiful self sacred from the profaning gaze of the multitude,--sacred to me and my love for you, and I shall be the proudest man living! Finally,"--and he smiled again--"give Rosine back this effort at a bodice, and tell her to make something more in keeping with the laws of health and modesty. And Thelma--one more kiss! You are a darling!"
She laughed softly and left him, returning at once to the irate dressmaker who waited for her.
"I am sorry," she said very sweetly, "to have called you wicked! You see, I did not understand! But though this style of dress is fashionable, I do not wish to wear it--so you will please make me another bodice, with a small open square at the throat, and elbow-sleeves,--and you will lose nothing at all--for I shall pay you for this one just the same. And you must quite pardon me for my mistake and hasty words!"
Maladi's manner was so gracious and winning, that Madame Rosine found it impossible not to smile in a soothed and mollified way,--and though she deeply regretted that so beautiful a neck and arms were not to be exposed to public criticism, she resigned herself to the inevitable, and took away the offending bodice, replacing it in a couple of days by one much prettier and more becoming by reason of its perfect modesty.
On leaving Paris, Sir Philip had taken his wife straight home to his fine old Manor in Warwickshire. Thelma's delight in her new abode was unbounded--the stately oaks that surrounded it,--the rose-gardens, the conservatories,--the grand rooms, with their fine tapestries, oak furniture, and rare pictures,--the splendid library, the long, lofty drawing-rooms, furnished and decorated after the style of Louis Quinze,--all filled her with a tender pride and wistful admiration. This was Philip's home! and she was here to make it bright and glad for him!--she could imagine no fairer fate. The old servants of the place welcomed their new mistress with marked respect and evident astonishment at her beauty, though, when they knew her better, they marvelled still more at her exceeding gentleness and courtesy. The housekeeper, a stately white-haired dame, who had served the former Lady Errington, declared she was "an angel"--while the butler swore profoundly that "he knew what a queen was like at last!"