A NOBLEMAN'S GENEROSITY.
Notwithstanding all the kindness and hospitality that the earl had shown
to Mark, it was some relief to the farmer to know that when morning
dawned he was that day to return home. The grandeur of Linleigh Court
oppressed him; he longed to be with his laborers and his cattle, at
work.
The earl took breakfast with them; Lady Doris was not down--"she was
tired," the maid said.
"I was afraid it would be too much for her," said Mrs. Brace. "I am
sure, my lord, the more I think of it, the more wonderful it seems."
"Yes, it is quite a romance," laughed the earl. But neither he nor those
with whom he spoke dreamed how that romance was to end in a tragedy.
The morning being fine, though cold, the earl asked them to visit the
conservatories. By this time Doris had come down, and was ready to join
them. While they were going through one of the large conservatories,
Lady Doris suddenly caught sight of the Indian plant she had admired so
much at Downsbury Castle--the plant with scarlet bells and sweet, subtle
perfume. She hastened to it, and clasped a spray in her white hands.
"That is like the face of an old friend," she said.
"Why?" asked the earl, amused by the action.
"I saw some flowers like them at Downsbury Castle," she replied.
The earl looked keenly at her.
"Downsbury Castle!" he said. "I know the Duke of Downsbury. What took
you there, Doris?"
"What takes half the world everywhere?" she replied. "Curiosity. I
wanted so very much to see the interior of a castle, and to see if the
people living there really led fairy lives."
"And what did you think?" he asked, still in the same voice.
"I liked it very much; but, papa, I like Linleigh Court better--it is
more Italian, with sunshine and flowers everywhere."
"So you saw all the flowers at Downsbury Castle?" he continued, in the
tone of one who asks a question.
"Yes, and beautiful enough they were; but I saw something even fairer
than the flowers, papa."
"What was that, Doris?"
"I saw--listen gravely--I remember the whole of the name--I saw the Lady
Estelle Hereford, only daughter of his serene and mighty highness, the
Duke of Downsbury."
He laughed, but there was something forced and unnatural in the sound.
"I know her," he said, trying to speak calmly; "they are very dear
friends of mine. What did you think of her, Doris?"
It was wonderful how he learned to appeal to and rely on the judgment of
this fair young daughter.
"I thought her perfectly beautiful, perfectly graceful, perfectly
gentle, but tame, papa."
"Tame, child! What do you mean?" he asked.
It was such a novel and not over-pleasant sensation for him to hear a
mother called "tame" by her daughter, although it was done in supreme
ignorance.
"I cannot explain the word, papa, if you cannot understand it by
instinct. Earle would if he were here. I liked her very much; but she
puzzled me; her face kept changing color: she was proud, yet familiar;
haughty, yet gentle. She talked to me about love and marriage, just as
Mattie would have talked."
"Poor Estelle!" murmured the earl; then he said aloud: "How would Mattie
have talked? Give me an example."
"My lord!" cried Mrs. Brace, in alarm, "I am quite sure that Mattie
never said a wrong thing in her life."
"I am equally sure of it," said the earl, kindly.
"Mattie, like Lady Estelle, has great notions, papa--duty and all those
disagreeable things were first."
"That is right," said the earl. Even to himself he did not own how the
introduction of Lady Estelle's name had startled him.
Doris hastened on among the flowers. Lord Linleigh lingered behind,
while he said to Mark and his wife:
"You are tenants of the Duke of Downsbury, are you not?"
"Yes," replied Mark.
"Then I do not mind telling you, in all confidence, that you will
probably hear or read something about Lady Hereford and myself which
will please you."
Mrs. Brace understood him at once.
"My lord," she said, "I am so sorry that Lady Doris called her tame."
He laughed good-naturedly.
"She speaks her mind frankly," he said, "and that, at least, is a
recommendation. Lady Estelle would only be amused if she heard it."
"He means to marry her," said Mark to his wife, as the earl hurried
after his daughter; but Mrs. Brace had the strangest expression on her
face.
"What is it?" Mark asked. "Surely you are not ill?"
"No, I am not ill; but I will say this, Mark, it is a most awful
world--no one can understand it."
"Do as I do, my dear; the world never troubles me, because I take no
notice of it."
But that philosophy was not in the way of Mark's wife.
"Doris," said the earl, when he overtook his daughter, "I wish to
consult you."
"I am not a very wise person to consult," she replied, with a charming
little smile, "but what little wit I have is quite at your service,
papa."
"My dear child," he said, "between ourselves, the Studleighs have never
been deficient in wit, but there has hardly been one steady head in the
whole race."
"That is deplorable enough. We must try to alter it," she said,
laughingly. "To begin with, I will steady my own. What do you wish to
consult me about, papa?"
"I want to do something substantial and handsome for your
foster-parents," he said. "What shall it be?"
"A steam-plow for Mark, and a black satin dress for his wife--that is
the highest ambition of both."
"Then you shall present them those gifts. But I mean something
substantial. What do you think of a thousand pounds as a dowry for his
daughter, and a thousand to be spent in improvements on the farm?"
"I think you are very fortunate to have thousands to spare; and I think
also that it is very charming of you to give them so much," she replied.
Lord Linleigh looked wistfully at her.
"Money could never repay such a benefit as Mark Brace and his wife have
conferred upon me, Doris," he said. "I am an aristocrat, it is true; but
I shall be more proud of reckoning that honest farmer among my friends
than I should of calling a king brother."
"That is a very grand sentiment, papa," laughed Doris. "It is almost
worth printing in a book. I must confess I would rather have a king for
my brother than any man for a friend. I think Mark will be delighted
with the steam-plow. After all, what you are pleased to call the benefit
they conferred on you was not without its reward. Mark Brace was very
fond of me--he always said I made the sunshine of Brackenside."
The earl looked amused at this fashion of making matters straight; but
before they went away, he gladdened the hearts of the farmer and his
wife.
"A thousand pounds!" said Mark, looking in the most bewildered fashion
at the check he held in his hand--"a thousand pounds, my lord, to spend
as I like! It is impossible--it cannot be true. I must not take it--I
have done nothing to deserve it."
But Lord Linleigh greeted his scruples with:
"You have done for me and my daughter that which few would have done so
well," he said.
"I did my duty, my lord--no less, no more; and a thousand pounds for
doing my duty is an enormous reward."
But his surprise was redoubled when, added to this, the earl insisted
that he should take a thousand pounds for Mattie's dowry, and would not
hear of any refusal. Then, indeed, the tears stood, warm and bright, in
Mark's eyes, and Mrs. Brace wept like a child. "A dowry for
Mattie!"--the brightest hope, the maddest dream they had ever
entertained. Mattie to have a fortune! Not that it would make her a
wealthy heiress, but it would at least secure her from all want. Let
them die now, whensoever Heaven pleased--their daughter would never
want.
Lord Linleigh could never forget the thanks that were lavished on
him--the gratitude, the warmth of emotion.
"And now," said the earl, "there is one thing more that I wish you to do
for me. It relates to my daughter's engagement with Earle Moray."
Mark looked at him with anxious eyes.
"We have been speaking of that, my lord--my wife and I. It may not
perhaps seem much of a match for her, now that she is my lady; but if
you were to search the wide world over, you would never find any one who
loved her so dearly as Earle--no one so honest, so good and true. It
will be but a poor chance for her, my lord, if she finds a fortune and
loses Earle."
"So I believe," said the earl. "It is about that I wish to speak to you.
You will see Earle on your return; tell him from me that the change in
my daughter's position need make none in her engagement to him; tell
him, from me, that as far as my consent can ratify and approve it, I
most freely give that consent. Tell him also that I will do my best to
push his fortune."
Mrs. Brace looked at him with grateful approval.
"My lord," she said, in her simple fashion, "they speak truthfully when
they call you a noble man."
Lady Doris, proud of her name, her fortune, her position, did not feel
quite so pleased when she heard this. It had been all very well when she
was Doris Brace--it had been all very well in Florence, when Earle had
become tiresome, she had been compelled to repeat her promise of
marriage, and pledge herself to him over and over again; but there had
been a faint hope in her mind that when she was once with her father,
under the shelter of his roof, he would never allow her to fulfill the
engagement. She never dreamed that he would chivalrously exact its
fulfillment. Still, she was wise enough to be silent, and not say what
was in her mind. She had learned that great lesson women so often fail
in--when to be silent and when to speak.
When they were once more alone, Mrs. Brace expressed her great sense of
the earl's kindness and real goodness. She thought it so noble of him
that he should wish the engagement to continue.
"It would break Earle's heart to lose you," she said. "When you went
away--abroad, I mean--I thought he would have died."
Lady Doris raised her head with the lofty air natural to her.
"You do not understand," she said. "The earl could not break his word,
or persuade another person to break a promise. _Noblesse oblige!_"
"Ah, my dear," said the kindly woman, "you are far ahead of me--I never
did quite understand you--you are clever and learned; you have speech of
your own that I cannot follow: but however great or grand you may be,
you will never find any one to love you so truly as Earle does."
"I am sure of that," she replied, then turned hastily away. She was
growing tired of hearing of nothing but Earle. Surely they were all in a
conspiracy, all plotting for Earle. Yet, despite her impatience, she
owned to herself that all the love she had to give away was given to
him.