"He may do as he likes then," she said; "I shall be Earle's wife. My fortune will be settled on me, and I shall defy him; if he tells his story then, he will not find many to believe him; Earle will not believe anything against his wife, I am sure. I must bribe some respectable family to say that I lived with them as governess in Florence. I shall conquer the difficulty when I am once married to Earle."
This was her one haven of refuge, her rock, her safe harbor from all storms; the end which she so ardently desired to gain; the one great object in life that she proposed for herself; it seemed to her all must be well then. She had written to Mattie asking her to come to Linleigh on the first of August: but so desirous was she of keeping her own secret, that she had not told her what for, and she did not tell her until they were driving in the pretty pony carriage back to the court; then she was so eager to tell her story, that she did not notice how pale the brown face had grown, or how the dark eyes looked full of unshed tears.
"So you have sent for me, Doris, to be your bridesmaid," said Mattie; "you, who might have some of the noblest and highest ladies in the land?"
"There would be none that I love like you, Mattie. We were sisters for years, you know."
Then Mattie was silent for a little time. She said to herself at first, that if she had known why Doris wanted her, she would not have gone, she would rather have done anything, have suffered anything than seen Earle married. Then she reproached herself for being selfish, and tried to throw all her heart and soul into her sister's plans.
Lady Doris wondered why Mattie suddenly kissed her face, and said:
"Heaven bless you, my darling; I hope you will be very happy. I should think, Doris, that you are the happiest girl in all the world."
"Yes," said Doris, "I think I am;" and she added to herself, bitterly, "Would to Heaven I were!"
The countess was more than kind to Mattie; in her own mind she was always thinking how to pay back to Mark Brace's daughter the kindness they had shown Doris. When the two young girls stood together in Lady Doris' dressing-room, she drew off her driving-gloves and laid them on the table; then for the first time Mattie saw the terrible bruise on the white hand; she bent down to look at it.
"What have you done to your pretty hand, Doris?" she asked. "What a frightful bruise!"
"I knocked it against something," was the vague reply. But Mattie saw the burning flush on her sister's face.
"What a pity. Now you will be married with a black, dreadful looking bruise on your hand. That will not get well in ten days."
"Sometimes I think it will never get well at all, Mattie," said Lady Doris, "it has been done some weeks already; I forget how long."
Mattie kissed the dark skin, and Lady Doris shuddered as she remembered whose lips had rested on that hand before.
"When is Earle coming?" she asked, and Lady Doris answered:
"On the eighth, he cannot leave London before, you have no idea what a famous man he is becoming Mattie."
She was glad to hear it; yet the old familiar prayer rose to her lips. Without knowing why, she said to herself: "Heaven save Earle!"
CHAPTER LXXVI
"I SHALL WAKE UP AND FIND IT A DREAM."
The eighth of August! When had any day so beautiful shone before? It was as though the birds had woke earlier to sing. How the sun was shining and the flowers blooming! Lady Doris opened her eyes to the fairest and loveliest day that had ever dawned.
"Earle is coming to-day!" was her first thought.
"Earle is coming!" sung the birds.
"Earle is coming!" whispered the wind, as it stirred the sweet green leaves. She had rested well; for it seemed to her now that her troubles were nearly ended. In two more days she would be his wife; then, who could touch her, what evil could come to her?
Earle was to be at Linleigh by noon. The hours would roll so swiftly, so sweetly by until then. Only two days! She sung to herself sweet little snatches of love songs. While she was dressing she looked at herself in wonder; could it be the same Doris who once thought nothing on earth of any value except money and grandeur? Could she have so mingled her love and life into another's as almost to have lost her own identity, and to think of nothing except Earle?
"I never thought that I should be so much in love," she said, to herself. "How strange it seems!"
She did not quite understand herself. It was not that she loved Earle so passionately; the capability of great love was not hers. It was not that; it was that Earle, the master-mind, had, by the force and nobility of his own character, completely influenced her, and had won a complete ascendency over her. She had not much power of loving; what she had was his. But Earle represented peace, happiness, and prosperity to her – Earle was her sure haven of rest, her shield against all evil, her refuge against her direst enemy and bitter foe, Lord Vivianne.
So, welcome, bright, sunny day! – welcome golden sun and sweet flowers!
The post brought her her daily love-letter; but it was brief. It said simply:
"I cannot write much to my darling. I shall see her to-day, and, in two days more, she will be mine until death parts us."
He thought of the words when he saw them again.
Every face wore its brightest look at the breakfast-table that day. The earl and countess were happy in their beautiful daughter's happiness; Mattie, because she entered so easily into the joy of others.
"Doris," said Mattie, "will you come out? We shall have just time for a stroll in the woods before Earle comes."
Lady Doris laughed.
"I really cannot, Mattie. The spirit of unrest is on me, I cannot go anywhere or do anything until I have seen Earle."
"Have you decided yet about your wedding-dress?" asked Mattie. "This strange caprice of silence makes me afraid to speak; but, silence or not, it is high time that it was seen about."
Lady Doris laughed.
"I am so amused at myself, Mattie," she said. "If any one had ever told me, some years, even some months since, that I should be quite indifferent over my wedding-dress, I would not have believed it."
"But why are you indifferent?" asked Mattie. "I cannot understand. Is it because you are not marrying a nobleman – is it because you are marrying Earle?"
"No," was the reply. "You can believe me or not, Mattie, just as you please, but I assure you I am more proud in marrying Earle than if I were marrying a king."
"So I should imagine. Earle is a king; then why this strange desire for secrecy?"
The beautiful eyes were raised wistfully to her face.
"I may tell you, perhaps, some day, Mattie, but not now, dear – not now. You will marry some good, kindly man, Mattie – some one like yourself, who never knew the fiery heat of temptation; who has always kept – as you have kept – his eyes on Heaven; then, some day, dear, when you are sitting with your little children around you, I shall come to you – world-worn and weary, perhaps, who knows! – longing to lay my head in the clover grass, and then I may tell you all – but not now."
"Then there is a secret?" said Mattie, gently.
"Yes," was the wary reply, "there is a secret."
The words seemed half forced from her.
"Does Earle know it?" asked Mattie.
"No, and never will. Do not talk to me, dear; you have been my sister many years, and I love you very much; if ever I seek a confidante it will be you. You need not be anxious over my wedding-dress, Mattie. Lady Linleigh has presented me with my trousseau, and she tells me that no royal princess ever had a more sumptuous one; she told me also that a box would come from Paris to-day, for you and for me; rely upon it, that will contain my wedding-dress."
"How kind Lady Linleigh is to you," said Mattie. "I do not think your own mother could love you better."
"I do not think she would love me half so much," was the laughing reply. Then, in the warm, sunlit air, they heard the sharp clang of the clock – eleven. "He will be here in an hour," said Doris.
"Shall you not go and change your dress?" asked the simple little foster-sister. "I thought great ladies always dressed very grandly to receive their lovers."