A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

So that was, indeed, a happy coming home.

Earle went to London then to begin his life's work. The earl and the countess returned to Linleigh, where, in the smiles of her children, Lady Estelle grew young again. Fair-faced daughters and sturdy, noble boys made the walls of the Court ring again. The earl was happy beyond measure, but neither he nor his wife ever forgot the hapless, beautiful girl whom they had lost.

CHAPTER LXXXVI

HAUNTED BY A DEAD FACE

Two years after the birth of his son, the earl and countess went to London for the season. It so happened that the desire for a picture he had seen led him to the studio of Gregory Leslie. The artist was engaged for the moment, and asked Lord Linleigh to wait. While so waiting, he occupied himself in looking round at the pictures on the wall. He stopped before one as though spell-bound. If ever he had seen the face of his daughter at all, it was shining there on the canvas, beautiful as the radiant dawn of the morning, with the sunlight on her hair, and in her eyes a light that seemed to be from heaven. She was standing in the midst of flowers, and his own face grew pale as he looked at the radiant loveliness of hers.

"Doris," he said to himself; "but how comes she here?"

He saw the white hands that he remembered last as folded in death; he saw the white, graceful breast that had been disfigured by that terrible wound.

"My darling Doris," he said; "how came you here?"

He was standing there, with tears in his eyes, when Mr. Leslie entered the room.

"I should like to ask a few questions about that picture, Mr. Leslie," he said, courteously. "Is it for sale?"

"I can hardly say; I have had a very large bid for it. It was purchased some time since by one of our merchant princes, who has since failed, and I bought the picture at his sale; since then I have been offered a large sum for it."

"It is my daughter's portrait," said the earl, calmly. "I cannot see how it came into your possession."

"I painted it," said Mr. Leslie.

"You did! Where did you see my daughter?"

Then the artist told him the whole story of his going to Brackenside, and the earl told him the story of Lady Doris Studleigh's childhood.

"I never believed that she was Mark Brace's daughter," said Gregory Leslie; "she was so daintily beautiful – her grace was so complete, so high-bred, I could not fancy that she belonged to them. Was the mystery of her journey to Florence ever explained?"

"What mystery?" asked the earl, quickly; so quickly that Mr. Leslie thought that he had been wrong in naming it at all.

"There was some little confusion," he said. "Her face is very beautiful; it attracted great attention, and one of my fellow artists assured me that he had seen her in Florence, and that she was married."

"Nothing of the kind!" said the earl.

Then an uncomfortable conviction seized upon him. Could there be any truth in this? Could there be any truth in the idea – the suspicion that his wife entertained that all had not been well with Doris? Could there have been a mystery in that young life, so soon, oh, so soon ended?

The earl sighed deeply. It would be better, perhaps, to let it alone. If there had been anything wrong, it was too late to right it now. Let the dead past bury its dead. She was a Studleigh, and there were many of that race whose lives would not bear looking into. He dismissed the subject from his mind, and said to himself he would think of it no more.

"Who wants this picture?" he asked, abruptly. "I am sure that Lady Linleigh would like it."

"It is a strange coincidence that you should call this morning," said Mr. Leslie; "the gentleman who wishes so strongly for it appointed to meet me at two – it wants but ten minutes of the time. Will you wait and see him? Perhaps, under the circumstances, he might be willing for you to have the original, which I might copy."

Lord Linleigh was perfectly willing. He was rather surprised, however, when the door opened, to see – in the expected visitor – Lord Vivianne! Lord Vivianne – but so changed, so unlike himself, that it was with difficulty he recognized him. His hair was white as snow, his face furrowed with deep lines, haggard, careworn and miserable. He looked like a man bowed down with care, wretched beyond words.

When he saw Lord Linleigh he grew even more ghastly pale, and all sound died away on his lips.

The earl eagerly extended his hand.

"Lord Vivianne!" he cried, "what a stranger you are! I am heartily glad to meet you again."

He did not understand why that great, gasping sigh of relief came from the wretched lips.

"I have thought of you," continued the earl. "Of course you heard the story of my terrible trouble?"

More ghastly still grew the white face.

"Yes, I heard of it; who did not?"

"Poor child!" sighed the earl; "It was a terrible blow to us; the very night before her wedding-day, too."

Ah! the night before the wedding-day! He was not likely to forget that. He saw it all again – the beautiful, defiant face; the wedding costume; the long, sharp knife; the bare, white breast. Ah! merciful God, was he never to forget! He groaned aloud, then saw the earl looking at him in wonder.

"You did not know, Lord Linleigh," he said, "that I loved your daughter. If I had gone to Linleigh again in August, it would have been to ask her to be my wife."

The earl held out his hand in silent sympathy.

"It was a terrible blow," he said.

Then he thought to himself that it was because he had loved his daughter that Lord Vivianne wished for the picture.

"I fancied once or twice," he said, "that you admired her. I did not know you loved her."

"I did. If any one had told me it was in my power to love any woman, or to mourn for any woman as I have done for her, I should have laughed at the notion. My life is blighted."

They sat then in silence for some time; then the earl said:

"I am glad that I have met you. Lady Linleigh and I have often spoken of you. Will you pay us a visit at Linleigh Court?"

"No," replied the wretched man, with a shudder. "You are very kind. I thank you, but my visiting days are over. I am nothing but a curse to myself and to others."

"You will get better in time," said the earl.

It was a new idea to him to play the part of comforter to a man of the world, and he did it awkwardly.

"I grow worse; not better," was the desponding reply. "I suppose, Lord Linleigh, nothing more was heard of that dreadful occurrence – the crime was never traced?"

"No; it was one of those mysteries that baffle solution," he replied. "The rewards offered have been enormous, and we have employed the best detectives in England, without success."

"It is very strange," said Lord Vivianne, musingly.

"Yes, it is strange. I am quite certain of one thing," said the earl, with energy; "it will come to light – murder always does – it will come to light."

The white face grew even whiter.

"You believe that?" said Lord Vivianne, in a low, hoarse voice.