A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

"Do you really think so? I am so glad," yet she shivered again as she spoke. "I long to go to Linleigh, Earle, yet I have such a strange feeling about it, a strange presentiment, a foreboding; surely no evil, no danger awaits me at Linleigh. Do you know, I could fancy death standing at the threshold waiting with outstretched arms to catch me." Again her voice died away with a half-hysterical sob.

Earle bent over her and kissed her.

"My darling, you are fanciful, you are tired. I am so glad you have trusted me; it is high time you were attended to. These nervous fancies are enough to drive you mad; the evil has gone further than I thought. Doris, my love, my sweet, it is only the reaction from over-fatigue that gives you these ideas, nothing else; what awaits you but a future bright as your own beauty? What shall I live for except to love and to serve and to shield you?"

"Earle," she cried suddenly, "do you know what I wish?"

A long shining tress of golden hair had fallen over her shoulders, and she sat twining it round her white fingers.

"Do you know what I wish?" she repeated.

"No; if I did I should do it, you may be quite sure, Doris."

"I wish that we – you and I – were married; that I was your wife, and that we had gone far away from here, away where no one knows us, where we could be quite happy, alone and together."

"Do you really wish that, Doris?" he asked.

Her face flushed slightly, but her voice did not tremble.

"I do really wish it," she replied. "If papa were willing we would be married this summer, and we could go away, Earle, to some far-off land; then – when we had been happy for some time – we could come home again. I should have grown quite strong by then, and I should have found health, strength, and peace, all with you."

There was a strange mingling of doubt and rapturous happiness on his face.

"Do you really mean this, Doris?" he asked. "Would you – the queen of the season, the fairest object of man's worship – would you give up all your triumphs, all your gayeties, and prefer to live in quiet and solitude with me?"

There was a slight hesitation for one half moment; he was so noble, so true. It was pitiful to use his great love for the obtaining of her own ends; but she must save herself – she must do that.

"You may believe me, Earle," she replied, gently; "if it could be, I would far rather it were so."

"Then, darling, it shall be – my head grows dizzy with the thought of it – you, my peerless, my beautiful Doris, will be my own wife when the summer comes. Why, Doris, listen! oh, listen, love! Do you know that I never fully realized that I was to make you my wife, though I have loved you so passionately and so well? You have always seemed of late far above me, like a bright shining star to be worshiped, hardly to be won. When I said to myself, that at some time or other you should be my wife, it has been like a dream – a bright, sweet, unreal dream. I do not know that I ever fancied you, sweet, with bridal veil and orange-blossoms; yet now, you say, you will marry me in the summer!"

"That I will, Earle," she replied.

"Heaven bless you, my own darling! Heaven speed the happy summer. Why, Doris, I can see the gold on the laburnums, I can hear the ring-doves cooing, I can see the smile of summer all over the land! Mine in the summer, dear; Heaven, make me worthy!"

"There is but one thing, Earle," she said; "I – you will think I have changed, but I cannot help that – I want a quiet marriage. It would please me best if nothing were said, even about our engagement, but if we could go quietly to Linleigh and keep the secret of our marriage to ourselves; that is what I should really like, Earle."

"Then it shall be so, my darling! Now, do not give yourself one moment's anxiety. Shut those beautiful eyes and sleep all night, dreaming only of summer roses and your lover, Earle. I shall see your father to-morrow, and I shall tell him; he will be quite willing, I am sure."

"You are very good to me, Earle," she said, gratefully. "How foolish I was ever to think that I did not care for you, and to run away from you, was I not?"

"That is all forgotten, love," he said, and she felt that she would have given the whole world if it had never happened.

CHAPTER LXVIII

A CLEW AT LAST

The morning that followed was beautiful. The Lady Doris felt more cheerful than she had done for many long days. Earle would manage it all for her; she should find a way out of all her difficulties. Lord Vivianne would not follow her to Linleigh; even if he did, she could foil him again and again. When once she was Earle's wife, she could defy him; it was not likely that she would fear him then.

Her heart and spirits rose alike, she smiled at her own fair image in the glass; early as it was, a fragrant bouquet of white hyacinths lay on the toilet table, sent by some adoring lover who evidently hoped that the flowers would say for him what he could not say for himself. She smiled over them, inhaling the rich odor with delight, thinking to herself the while, "What a poet Earle is; what a rapture he went into last night about flowers and summer."

She felt better. The sun was shining in at her windows, the sweet breath of the hyacinths reached her. It seemed impossible that sorrow or death should come into such a bright world. She smiled to herself when she heard that Earle was with her father.

"He has most certainly lost no time," she said to herself.

Yet, nearly an hour passed before the earl left the library; then, owing to strangers being present, he could not speak to her of what had passed. He merely touched her hand.

"Doris," he said, "I have been having a long talk with Earle, and I must have one with you before dinner."

"I will remember, papa," she said.

Then as the day was so fine Earle prayed her to ride out with him.

"An hour in the park would be so pleasant," he said.

And Lady Linleigh thought the same. Doris was quite willing to go.

When they were under the shade of the trees, Earle went more slowly.

"My darling," he said, "I knew that you would be anxious to hear what has passed. I think," he continued, bringing his handsome face on a level with hers, "I think that I shall make an excellent diplomatist in time."

"I never doubted it," replied Doris.

"I was quite pleased with myself," Earle went on to say; "I made quite an impression on the earl."

Her lips grew pale, and parted with a long, quivering sigh; she looked at him anxiously.

"In one word, Earle, is it to be as I wished or not?"

"Yes," he replied, "in every particular."

Then she resigned herself to listen.

"I never mentioned you at all in the matter," he continued. "I told him that I had observed your health and strength failing, and that I felt quite convinced, unless you rested at once, you would suffer seriously from the effects of over-fatigue. He agreed with me, and said that Lady Linleigh had remarked the same thing, and was equally anxious over you; and said that the wisest thing to do was to leave town at once, and go to Linleigh."

"But would he and Lady Linleigh be willing to give up the remainder of the season?" she asked.

"They care more for you than for the season," he replied. "My opinion is, that Lady Linleigh secretly enjoys the idea of leaving town."

"And about – you know what I mean, Earle."

"About our wedding, darling? It is to be in the sweet summer-time, that is, if you are willing. I urged it; and the countess joined me. Lord Linleigh – Heaven bless him! – did not raise the least objection. He said he would speak to you, and was perfectly kind and good about it; it will be for you to tell him, dear, your wish to have it all managed very quietly, and to speak of going abroad. Now, is not that glorious news for a bright sunshiny day? How green the trees are, and how blue the sky! Was the world ever so fair, love – ever one-half so fair?"

Suddenly he saw her start, and looking at her, saw an angry flush on her face, a bright light in her eyes. She was looking intently at some one who returned the glance with interest.

Following the direction of her eyes, Earle saw Lord Vivianne watching her most intently. There was a smile that was yet half a sneer on his lips, he was talking to a gentleman whom Earle instantly recognized as Colonel Clifford.

"There is your bete noir, Doris – Lord Vivianne," he said.