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A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette

Год написания книги
2017
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THE COUNTESS BECOMES CURIOUS

"We ought to be very much flattered," said Lord Linleigh, with a smile, as he laid an open letter before his wife. "When did we leave London? – in June. It is only the middle of July, yet some of our friends are growing weary for us."

It was such a July morning as makes the dwellers in cities ill with envy – when the earth hangs like a huge, shining jewel in the firmament of heaven – a morning when life seems the greatest luxury, when to breathe and to live is a blessing without alloy. The sky was dark blue, without even one little white cloud to obscure it; it looked so far off, so much further than when low-lying clouds touch the earth. The sun was golden bright, warm without intense heat; and the air – ah! well, it would require a poet to tell how balmy and soft it was – how it came over the meadows laden with the breath of sweet clover – how it came from the woods with the odor of wild hyacinths – how it came from the gardens with the fragrance of rose and of lily, with the fragrance of every flower that blows. Then it was filled with soft, delicious thrills – with the cooing of the ring-doves, and the song of the lark. Nature was in her happiest mood.

The earl and countess had come down early to breakfast – the long windows were open – the perfumed air came in. They smiled, as among the letters they saw one from Earle to Doris.

"He writes every day," said Lord Linleigh.

"Quite right," said Lady Estelle. "I like to see lovers deeply in love."

They smiled again, when, fresh and fair as the morning itself, Doris came down. Her face flushed when she saw the letter; a sweet, dewy brightness came into her eyes; she laid it aside as though waiting for time.

"Read your letter, Doris," said Lady Linleigh, and the girl opened it.

Ah! well, perhaps life does not hold a greater pleasure than reading a passionate love-letter on a bright summer morning. Her dainty color deepened as she read; the light grew brighter in her eyes.

"My love!" thought the girl; "how he loves me."

And with the fragrant breath of the summer morning, with the light of the blue skies, with the song of the birds, there came to her a pang of regret that she was so utterly unworthy of this great pure love, that her soul was so terribly stained by crime. Then, she said to herself that she would atone for it, that she would to the very best of her power make up for it; that she would be so loving, so tender, so true, he should never have cause to regret it. For it was such a love-letter as would have touched any girl's heart; written with the fire of a poet and of a lover. She lost herself in a day-dream, in a golden trance of happiness: it was coming so near, this wedding-day which was to bind her to Earle forever, and free her from all care.

It was Lady Linleigh's voice that roused her, and she was asking:

"What friend is coming – who is coming, Ulric?"

"Lord Vivianne – he does not say how long he intends remaining. There is the letter; read it."

But the countess was preparing a cup of fragrant tea after the fashion she liked best, and Lord Linleigh, seeing that, said:

"I will tell you about it, Estelle. Lord Vivianne says he shall be passing through Anderley on his way to Leeson, and he should very much like to spend a few days with us. I can but answer in the affirmative, I suppose."

"Certainly; it will be a change for you; you have been very quiet lately; we can have a picnic and a dinner-party while he is here."

Lord Linleigh glanced with a shrewd smile at his daughter. It did not seem to him wonderful that his lordship should be passing through Anderley; the only pity was, that it was all in vain. But he did not see his daughter's face, it was turned from him.

The love-letter had fallen from her hands, the golden light had faded from the skies, the beauty of the morning had vanished; her face grew pale, her eyes darkened.

Why was he coming? Whatever might be the reason, it meant mischief to her, she was sure of it. He had promised not to come near her until the end of August, then he was to come for her answer. What was bringing him now?

"I must bear it, I have to live it through," she said to herself, "no matter what it may be."

In a dumb passion of despair, she heard Lady Linleigh ask when he was coming.

"He will be here by the end of the week," said the earl, carelessly; then he laughed a little.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Lady Estelle.

"My dear Estelle, I am just thinking how eagerly you seized upon his coming as an excuse for a little gayety," he replied; "you who assured me so seriously you preferred quiet and solitude."

Lady Estelle blushed.

"I plead guilty, Ulric," she said. "It must be because I am very happy myself that I like to see every one else happy, too."

They both wondered why Lady Doris was so silent.

"It must be from sheer excess of happiness," thought the countess.

Lord Linleigh asked:

"Will you drive with me this morning, Doris, or would you prefer to ride or walk?"

"Will you go with me?" asked Lady Estelle. "I am going to Streathaw."

"No, thank you, papa. Thank you, Lady Linleigh. I am going to spend the morning in the gardens."

"That means writing a long letter to Earle," said Lord Linleigh, with a smile.

She did not contradict him; and Lady Estelle, when she kissed her and bade her good-morning, thought how beautiful it was to be young, happy, and in love.

Doris went out. There was the shade of fragrant trees, the brilliant colors of a thousand flowers; and Doris saw and heard nothing – she was full of despair.

"Why is he coming," she cried, passionately, "just as I was growing so happy, learning to forgot him and his terrible threats – why is he coming? It is like the serpent stealing into paradise. Ah, Heaven! if I could but undo that unhappy past."

Standing there in the sunshine, with every blessing from heaven lavished upon her – more, according to outward appearances, to be envied than any girl in England – she saw the great canker-worm of her life in its true colors. Sin had spoiled all for her.

Sin! Why, she could remember when, in the innocence of her youth and beauty, she had laughed at the word sin – she had scoffed at it. "What did sin matter?" she had said, to herself; "the only thing was to make the very best of life, to enjoy it with all her power, to grasp its pleasures before they had time to fade." Sin! why it was all sheer nonsense.

Now, when sin had found her out, when its black trail had entered her life and poisoned it – when its consequences, pursuing her, were leading her to shame and disgrace, she began to recognize it for what it was. She said to herself that if she could begin life over again she would be quite different; she would try to be good, like Mattie; she would think less of her own beauty; and if the same temptation came to her again, which had been so artfully offered her once, she would refuse it. She wished with all her heart that she had turned a deaf ear to Lord Vivianne's entreaties. "I did know it was wrong," she said to herself, with unusual candor; "I had enough of what was good in me to know that, and I am sorry, really sorry that I did it."

Who knows how much repentance the Father above requires from a soul? Who shall measure His mercy? The terrible tragedy was drawing nearer; and it might be that the sorrow which rose from the poor, weak, vain soul that morning was sufficient to save it.

So she lived the time through until Lord Vivianne came. She was glad that Lady Linleigh had arranged for a little gayety; meeting him alone would have been simply unendurable. As it was, she met him in a drawing-room half-crowded with guests. He found time and opportunity for saying a few words to her:

"How beautiful you look, Dora! I have never seen you looking so well!"

"I should be flattered at pleasing such fastidious taste as yours," she replied.

"Yes, you do look most lovely; those waves of green and white, and the water-lilies in your hair – you look like Undine!"

"Before or after she had found her soul?" she asked, with a mocking smile.

He laughed that low, light laugh for which she hated him.

"I have never quite made up my mind as to whether women have souls or not," he said. "I am inclined to think not; if they have, they certainly make queer use of them."

"Lady Linleigh!" cried the girl, to the countess, who was just passing by, "what do you imagine Lord Vivianne says?"

"I cannot imagine," replied the countess, with a smile.

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