A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

"Good-night, my love," said Earle; "fair dreams, sweet sleep. You will be mine to-morrow."

It was all right. He laughed at himself for the foolish fear, and went back to his own room. He never saw the white, despairing face and creeping figure of the wretched man who had done the atrocious deed.

He slept soundly for some few hours, then the kindly sun woke him, shining on his face – a warm, sweet greeting, and he thought Heaven was blessing his wedding-day. The birds were all singing in the trees, the flowers blooming, the whole world fair and smiling.

"My love will be mine to-day!" he thought. "Shine on, blessed sun! there is no day like this!"

It would have gladdened his mother's heart had she been there to have seen him bend his head so reverently, and pray Heaven to shower down all blessings on Doris.

They had arranged, in deference to her wishes, that no great difference should be made between this and other mornings. She would not go down to meet them at the early breakfast; she would not see Earle until they reached the church, but Lord Linleigh and the countess, Mattie and Earle, had agreed to breakfast together.

It was about the usual hour when Earle entered the breakfast-room. Lady Estelle was there alone. She looked up with a charming smile on her gentle face.

"Either we are very early, or the others are very late," she said. She went up to him. "I am glad to see you for one moment alone on this happy day, Earle – to thank you for keeping my secret – and pray Heaven to bless you and my darling, that you may lead the happiest of all lives together."

Then she bent down and kissed him. Her fair hair drooped over him; it seemed to Earle as though a soft, fragrant cloud had suddenly enwrapped him. Then Mattie came in, and a message was brought from Lord Linleigh, praying them to wait five minutes for him. It seemed quite natural for Mattie and Earle to pass through the long, open glass doors, and spend the five minutes among the flowers.

"You have a glorious day for your wedding, Earle," said Mattie. "I think the sun knows all about it; it never shone so brightly before. The best wish that I can offer is that your life may be as bright as the sunshine."

It seemed only natural for him to turn to her and say:

"Have you seen Doris this morning?"

"No," she replied. She had been to the door of her room, but it was so silent she did not like to arouse her.

Then Earle went to a moss-rose tree and gathered a beautiful bud, all shrouded in its green leaves.

"Mattie," he said, "will you take this to her, with my love?"

"What this love is!" laughed Mattie, as she went on her errand.

While she was gone the earl came in, and they sat down to breakfast. It was some little surprise to Earle when Mattie came back with the rose in her hand.

"Doris is not awake yet, and her maid did not seem willing to call her. She was up late last night, I think."

He said nothing, but he thought to himself it was strange Doris should sleep so soundly on this most eventful morning of her life.

They took a hurried breakfast; then Mattie said:

"Now it is growing late – our beautiful bride must be roused."

Lady Estelle looked up hurriedly.

"Is Doris still in her room?" she asked. "How strange that she sleeps so soundly!"

In the long corridor Mattie met the pretty Parisienne, Lady Doris' maid, Eugenie.

"You must rouse Lady Studleigh; she will be quite late if you do not."

"My lady sleeps well," said the girl, with a smile, as she tripped away. It was some short time before she returned; she looked pale and scared, half-bewildered.

"I cannot understand it, Miss Brace," she said. "I have been rapping, making a great noise at my lady's door, but she does not hear, she does not answer!"

Mattie looked perplexed. The maid continued:

"It is very strange, but it seems to me the lights are all burning – there is a streak of light from under the door."

"Then Lady Doris must have sat up very late, and has forgotten to extinguish them; that is why she is sleeping so soundly this morning. I will go with you and we will try again."

Mattie and the maid went together. Just as Eugenie had said, the door was fastened inside, and underneath it was seen a broad clear stream of lamplight. Mattie knocked.

"Doris," she said, "you must wake up, dear. Earle is waiting. It will be time to start for church soon!"

But the words never reached the dead ears; the cold lips made no answer.

"Doris!" cried the foster-sister again; and again that strange silence was the only response.

"Let me try, Miss Brace," said Eugenie, and she rapped loud enough to have aroused the seven sleepers. Still there came no reply.

The two faces looked pale and startled, one at another.

"I am afraid, Miss Brace," said the maid, "that there is something wrong!"

"What can be wrong? Has Lady Studleigh gone out, do you think, and taken the key of the room with her? If so, why should she leave the lamps burning? Oh, my lady! – Lady Studleigh! do you not hear us?"

Then Mattie began to fear! What had happened? She waited some time longer, but the same dead silence reigned.

"What shall we do, Miss Brace?" asked Eugenie. Her face grew very pale as she spoke. "I am quite sure that there is really something the matter. Lady Studleigh must be ill. Shall I fetch the countess?"

A vision of the fair, gentle face of Lady Estelle, with its sweet lips and tender eyes, seemed to rise before her.

"No," she replied; "if you really think there is anything wrong, you had better find the earl. But what can it be? Doris, my darling sister, do you not hear? Will you not unfasten the door!"

"I will go at once," said Eugenie.

Mattie begged that she would say nothing to the countess.

The maid hastened away and Mattie kept her lonely watch by the room door. She listened intently, but there was no sound, no faint rustle of a dress, no murmur of a voice; nothing but the glare of lamplight came from underneath. In spite of herself the dead silence frightened her. What could have happened? Even if Doris were ill she could have rung her bell and opened the door. There was little likelihood of her being ill: it was not many hours since they had parted, and then she was in the best of health and spirits.

The earl came quickly down the corridor.

"What is the matter, Mattie?" he asked, in a loud, cheery voice. "Eugenie is telling me some wonderful story about not being able to wake my daughter. What does it mean? Doris ought to be dressed and ready."

He started when his eyes fell on Mattie's bewildered face.

"You do not mean to say that there is anything wrong?" he cried.

"I hope not, Lord Linleigh, but we have been here nearly half an hour, doing all that is possible to wake Doris, and we cannot even make her hear."