AN IMPORTANT LETTER.
A few days after the events described in the previous chapter, a
paragraph went round the principal English newspapers which created some
little sensation. It was headed "Romance in High Life," and ran as
follows:
"It is not generally known that the Earl of Linleigh has been
married and lost his wife. The marriage--which took place
when the young and gallant captain had little expectation of
the earldom of Linleigh--was in itself, we believe, a
romance. Whether the sudden departure of the young officer
for India was caused by the death of his young wife, we are
not aware. As it was impossible to take his infant daughter
with him, the child was left in charge of his wife's friends.
We learn, on the highest authority, that the young lady, who
will henceforth take her title as the Lady Doris Studleigh,
is a most beautiful and accomplished girl, who will be a
great addition to the shining lights of society. The earl is
about to take up his residence, with his beautiful daughter,
at Linleigh Court."
Considerable sensation was caused by this, but no one was in the least
surprised. Captain Studleigh had been known as a great flirt: those who
remembered him as the handsome young man of his day, smiled and said,
"There, _that_ is why the gay gallant never married. I thought there was
some reason."
How many rich widows smiled on him, and smiled in vain. They wondered a
little when he had married, and all agreed that it was most probably a
nobody--a girl with a pretty face; he never cared for any other--neither
birth nor money, that was certain. The announcement caused no other
remark, and was very soon forgotten. If Lady Doris Studleigh was
anything like the Studleighs, she would be sure to be beautiful--they
had always been, without exception, the handsomest family in England.
She would be a great heiress, no doubt, and her _debut_ was most
anxiously looked for.
It was, perhaps, a fortnight after that paragraph had been well
discussed, that another appeared. It was as follows:
"MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.--We are informed that a noble earl,
whose recent accession to a magnificent estate and ancient
title caused some little sensation in the fashionable world,
will soon lead to the hymeneal altar the lovely and
accomplished daughter of one of our most respected peers."
Every one knew at once that the Earl of Linleigh was meant; but who was
the lady? First a rumor--a whisper; then a certainty--it was Lady
Estelle Hereford. People remembered that he had liked her, and had tried
hard to get up a flirtation before he went abroad. Gossip gradually wore
itself out. In the meantime strange events had occurred at the farm.
There came a cold, snowy morning when Doris had been home some few days.
She was growing impatient. The change was so great from gay, sunny
Florence to cold foggy England; from that luxurious villa, where
flowers and light abounded, to the homely farm-house; from the honeyed
words of her lover to the somewhat cold disapproval of Mattie and Mrs.
Brace. Mark had said but little to her.
"You tired your wings, my bonny bird," he said; "I am glad they brought
you back here."
He did not seem quite so much at home with her as he had been. More than
once Earle saw him look in wonder at the lovely face and white hands;
then he would shake his honest head gravely, and Earle knew that he was
thinking to himself she was out of place at the farm. Mrs. Brace had
said but little to her; she knew it was useless. Earle had begged her to
be silent, while Mattie looked on in sorrowful dismay. Would Earle never
see that Doris was unworthy of him?
Of her adventures but little has been said. Earle told them that he had
met her in Florence, where she was staying as governess to some little
children, and had induced her to come home with him--that was all they
knew. Of the story told to Earle they were in perfect ignorance.
Doris had shown some little sense; she had taken the costly gems from
her fingers. In any case it would never be safe to wear them again; they
would attract too much attention. She told Earle, laughingly, that she
had thrown her pretty false stones away, when, in reality, she had
safely packed them where no one but herself could find them. Then, after
the novelty of receiving Earle's homage again had worn off, she began to
grow impatient.
"I cannot stay here long, Earle," she said; "it is too terrible. When
shall I hear any news?"
"Soon, I am certain," was the reply. "Do not--pray, do not precipitate
matters by any imprudence, Doris. Wait a few days longer."
But the news came at last. On a cold, snowy morning, while the farmer
and his wife sat at breakfast, they heard the postman's horn outside the
gate.
"News ought to keep this weather," said Mark, laughingly; "it is cold
enough."
Mrs. Brace hastened to the door. There was a steaming cup of coffee to
be carried to the frozen postman, who took it gratefully, and gave her a
large, thick letter.
"It is registered, Mrs. Brace," he said, "and your husband must sign the
receipt."
Now, if there was anything in this world of which Mark Brace really
stood in awe, it was of pen and ink. He could plow, sow, reap with any
man; place a pen in his hand and an inkstand before him, and he was
reduced to a state of utter imbecility.
"Sign a receipt!" he said to his wife. "The man knows he has brought the
letter; that ought to be enough."
When he found it must be done, he submitted to it. Then it was
discovered that the only inkstand in the house was in Doris' room, and
that young lady asked wonderingly what they wanted ink at that early
hour of the morning for.
"Surely my father is not taking to literature, Mattie!" she cried.
"My dear sister, when will you learn that it is in bad taste to be
always sneering at our father?" was Mattie's answer.
"What does he want the ink for? Tell me?"
"There's a letter--a thick, registered letter--seemingly a very
important one, and the receipt had to be signed."
She wondered why the mocking smile died so suddenly from Doris'
face--why she grew pale, and agitated, and unlike herself.
"I shall be down in one moment, Mattie," she said.
When she was left alone she clasped her hands together.
"It has come at last!" she said--"at last!"
It was ten minutes before she went down; then Mark had almost recovered
from the effort he had made in signing the receipt--the postman had
departed--and, like all simple-minded people, Mark and his wife were
wondering from whom the letter had come, and what it was about. Doris
listened quietly for a minute. Mattie was engaged in preparing tea for
her sister. Then Doris said:
"Do you not think it would save all trouble and discussion if you opened
the letter?"
Mark laughed sheepishly, and said:
"She is right, you know."
Then he opened the letter. It was not very long, and they saw a slip of
pink paper fall from it. Mrs. Brace picked it up and saw that it was a
check for fifty pounds.
Meanwhile Mark read on slowly and laboriously; then he looked around him
with a bewildered face, and read it again.
"What is it, Mark?" asked his wife, anxiously.
"Stop!" said Mark, waving his hand. "Steady. I have had many a hard
puzzle in my life, but this is the hardest--I _cannot_ understand it.
Either the man who wrote it is mad, or I am--I cannot tell which. Patty,
read that letter aloud; let me see if it sounds as it reads."
Mrs. Brace took the letter obediently from her husband's hands. No one
saw the torture of suspense in Doris' face. Mrs. Brace read aloud:
"The Earl of Linleigh presents his compliments to Mr. Mark
Brace, and begs that he will grant him a favor. The earl
desires most particularly to see Mr. Brace at once, on very
important business, and as the earl cannot go to Brackenside,
he will be glad if Mr. Brace will start without delay for
Linleigh Court. It is also absolutely necessary that Mr.
Brace should bring with him his wife and the young lady known
as Doris. The earl incloses a check for fifty pounds to cover
traveling expenses, and he earnestly entreats Mr. Brace not
to delay one hour in coming."
"Send for Earle," gasped Mark, "before there is another word said about
it--send for Earle."
Then he was struck by the peculiar expression of his wife's face. She
bent down and whispered to him.
"That is it!" he said, with sudden conviction; "that is it! Heaven bless
me! I never thought of it; send for Earle."
"Is it anything of any harm to you, father?" asked Mattie, anxiously.
"No, my child. Doris, you say nothing."
"What can I say? You are a great man to be sent for by a mighty earl.
What can he want us for?"
"It has come at last!" said Mark. "Well, thank Heaven, we have done our
duty. I shall not be afraid to face him or any one else."
Then Mark sat in silence till Earle came, when he dismissed the two
girls from the room, little dreaming that Doris knew far more of her own
story than he did.
"Read this," he said, placing the letter in Earle's hand, "then tell me
what you think."
Earle read the letter attentively.
"I think," he said, "that this concerns Doris, and that you will most
probably find the earl is either her father, or that he knows something
of her parentage."
"I expected it," said Mark, with a deep sigh; "and Heaven knows, Earle,
I shall be thankful to get the girl off my hands without any more
trouble. She frightens me, my dear boy--she does, indeed; she is so
unlike the rest of us. I am always wondering what she will do or say
next; she is out of place here altogether. It will be a relief to me."
And honest Mark wiped his brow with the air of one who was glad to get
rid of a great burden. "My wife has more sense and better judgment than
any woman in England," he continued, "and she thinks he will turn out to
be Doris' father. Where is the mother, I wonder? What do you advise,
Earle?"
"I advise you to do exactly what Lord Linleigh says. Start at once, and
take the ladies with you. The matter is evidently pressing, or he would
not write so urgently."
"I must go, then; but it is really a trouble, Earle. I can get on with
an honest plowman or a sensible farmer, but with lords and ladies I am
quite at sea. My dear boy, I dread them. I shall never forget what I
went through with the duchess. Of course I know about all mankind being
sons of Adam to begin with, but I like my own sort of people best,
Earle."
"I do not know that you are wrong," was the reply.
"Earle," said Mark, suddenly, "will you tell Mattie about this affair
when we are gone? I know she will feel it terribly; she is very fond of
Doris, and neither her mother nor I have ever hinted it to her."
"I will tell her," said Earle, gravely. "Now let me do what I can toward
helping you. I will drive you to Quainton Station; you must go to London
first, and from London to Linleigh. It is in the south of Kent."
"I believe that you know every place in the wide world, Earle," said the
farmer, admiringly.
In a short time they were all on the road to London, while Earle, left
alone with Mattie, told her the whole story, and had the satisfaction,
for once in his life, of seeing genuine surprise.