"I MUST BEAR IT FOR HIS SAKE."
The great world did own itself to be surprised--not angry, nor shocked,
nor even vexed or offended, but surprised. It had not taken newspaper
rumors for gospel truth. It had prided itself on superior knowledge, and
had seen nothing of the kind; but this fine spring morning it was taken
by surprise.
The fashionable morning papers all told the same startling story--the
Earl of Linleigh was married, and married to Lady Estelle Hereford, the
Duke of Downsbury's only daughter. They had defrauded the fashionable
world of a grand spectacle. The marriage of a duke's daughter with an
earl would naturally have been a grand sight--such a grand duke, too, as
his Grace of Downsbury. Then private rumor came to the rescue, and told
how it would have been impossible for the marriage to have been
celebrated with any degree of ceremony in England, owing to the fact
that the late earl had not so very long been dead. Rumor added also,
how, long years ago, when he was a penniless captain, Lord Linleigh had
been hopelessly attached to the duke's fair, proud daughter, and how, on
his accession to the estates, he had instantly renewed his suit; how he
had followed them to Paris, would take no nay, and had married Lady
Estelle in spite of all obstacles. There was one singular omission,
though it was not of the least consequence--none of the papers said
where the marriage had been performed, or by whom. Those who noticed the
omission thought it would be supplied next day, then forgot all about
it.
The earl had been absent six weeks, and Lady Doris had spent them very
comfortably, with the help of Mattie. There was nothing in Mattie to be
ashamed of. True, she was only a farmer's daughter; but for all that she
was a well-bred girl. Her politeness and natural grace of manner came
from that best and sweetest of all sources, a good heart. She might be
deficient in some little matters of etiquette, but she was always true,
sincere, kind and good. Not even in outward appearance could the
fastidious Lady Doris find the least fault with her foster-sister, while
her thoughtful consideration made her liked and esteemed by every one in
the house. Indeed, there were some who compared the two unfavorably, and
wished that the haughty Lady Doris had some of her foster-sister's
gentleness.
The suit of rooms were finished, and Doris had taken possession of them
before the earl returned.
The fair spring was coming; already the cuckoo had been heard in the
woods; the first sweet odors of spring seemed to fill the air; the green
buds were on the hedges--such a fair, sweet, odorous spring. It seemed
to have touched the heart of Earle, the poet, and have turned his poetry
into words of fire. He wrote such letters to Lady Doris that, if it had
been in the power of words to have touched her heart, his would have
done so; but it was not; and one morning, when the sun was shining more
brightly than usual, when the first faint song of the birds was heard,
Lady Doris received a letter to say that day the earl and countess would
be at home.
The earl gave many directions how his beautiful and stately wife was to
be received; how the Anderley church bells were to ring, the servants be
ready; how a grand dinner was to be prepared an hour later than usual,
so as to make allowance for any little delay in traveling.
"I trust everything to you, Doris," said the earl, "and I know that I
may safely do so; you will keep your promise."
He trusted well. Her energy and quickness were not to be surpassed.
Every arrangement was made, every trifling detail attended to, and the
astonished servants, looking at each other in wonder, owned that their
young lady was a "regular locomotive" when she liked. Great fires were
burning in the dressing-rooms, the bedrooms--every place where she
thought a fire would be pleasant.
"The Countess of Linleigh shall have the three things that I like best
to welcome her home," she said, laughingly.
"What are those?" asked Mattie.
"Warmth, light, and flowers. Those are three grand luxuries, Mattie, and
if people either appreciated them better, or cared more about them, the
world would be a much more comfortable dwelling-place than it is now."
Lady Doris took especial pains over her own toilet that evening. The
Countess of Linleigh was a duke's daughter, and her good opinion was
worth having. She wished to impress her favorably, and she knew that she
must choose the happy medium. She must not be too plain--that would seem
like rusticity: nor too magnificent--that would be ostentation.
"I wish now," she said to herself, "that I had never gone near Downsbury
Castle: it was one of the most unfortunate things I ever did in my life.
I wonder what she thought of me that day?"
She did look exceedingly beautiful when she was dressed. She had chosen
a costume of pale lilac silk, with golden ornaments. The silk was shaded
by fine white lace--nothing could have suited her better. The ripples of
golden hair were drawn loosely together, and fastened with a diamond
arrow; the lovely face, with its dainty flush and bright, deep eyes; the
lovely mouth, so like the soft petals of a rose; the white, graceful
neck, the polished, pearly shoulders, the rounded arms--all made up a
picture not often seen. Mattie looked at her in honest amaze.
"You are very beautiful; you dazzle my eyes, dear," she said. "What
shall you do with your beauty, Doris?"
"Enjoy it," was the laughing reply.
But Mattie looked grave.
"It seems to me," she said, "that beauty such as yours is full of
peril."
"I do not see it," was the laughing answer. "Now, Mattie, it is time we
went to the drawing-room; in one half hour from this my lord and my lady
will be at home."
* * * * *
Faster and faster they seemed to drive; and with every minute that
brought them nearer, Lady Linleigh grew paler.
"It is an ordeal, Ulric," she said, in her clear, sweet voice; "it seems
to me that all I have gone through is as nothing compared to this. It
was very hard of papa--very hard."
"He meant it for the best, Estelle, and we must bear it, love; it might
have been much worse."
"Yes; but to hear her speak, to be with her every moment of the day, yet
never once to call her child, or hear her say 'mother'--it will be very
hard, Ulric--you do not know how hard."
"I can guess, my dear; but why dwell on this, the darkest side? Think of
the happiness in store! Your father and mother both friends with us,
having quite forgiven us, and, I venture to think, growing quite fond of
me; they will come to see us, and we shall visit them; and you will
always have Doris with you. Think of all those things!"
"Do you think I shall betray myself, Ulric?" she asked, simply.
"No, my wife, I do not. You kept your secret when you saw her at
Downsbury Castle, and you will keep it now. As for loving her, indulging
her, saying all kind and gentle words to her, that will be quite natural
in your position. Try to be happy, my darling wife; there are happy days
in store for us."
"I will try," she said.
At that moment they heard the chiming bells of Anderley Church, filling
the air with rich, jubilant music.
"Listen, Estelle," said Lord Linleigh; "that is our welcome home."
Listening to the joyous bells, watching the last golden gleam die out in
the western sky, no dream of tragedy to come disturbed them.
"Home at last," said the earl, as the carriage stopped. "I really think,
Estelle, I am the happiest man in the world."
He looked wistfully at his wife's face--it was white as death.
"My darling," he whispered, as he led her into the house, "for my sake
try to cheer up. Do not sadden the happiest hour of my life."
She made a violent effort to arouse herself. She returned with her usual
high and gentle courtesy the greetings of the domestics, and walked with
graceful steps to the library; then she hardly knew what took place. She
saw a face and a figure before her lovelier than the loveliest dream of
an artist. She saw two white arms around her husband's neck, while a
voice that made her heart thrill said:
"Welcome home, dear papa--welcome home!"
"I must bear it," she thought, "for his sake."
Then the beautiful face was looking in her own.
Oh, Heaven! that she should bear such pain, such joy, yet live.
A soft voice said:
"Welcome home, dear Lady Linleigh. I hope you will let me love you very
much."
She felt as though she held her heart in her own hands when she kissed
the white brow, saying:
"I am sure to love you very much."
The earl, who was watching her closely, saw that she had just as much as
she could bear--it was time to interfere; so he took Mattie by the hand
and led her to the countess. He introduced her in a few kindly words,
and then Lady Linleigh replied:
"I remember you, my dear, though you have probably forgotten me. I saw
you when you were quite a little child."
"I do remember you," said Mattie, gratefully.
Then Lord Linleigh interfered again.
"Estelle," he said, "we are just ten minutes behind our time. You would
like to change your traveling dress."
She looked at him like one roused from a dream, hardly seeming at first
to understand him; then she walked slowly from the room. Lord Linleigh
followed her, leaving the two girls alone.
"I think she will like me," said Lady Doris, "and it will be really a
boon to me to have such a graceful, high-bred lady in the house. I shall
study her, imitate her. Now, Mattie, does she not, as I said before,
seem to move to the hidden rhythm of some sweet music?"
"Yes, she gives me exactly that impression. But how pale she is, Doris,
and her hands trembled. She looked as though she was going to faint."
"She is not strong--papa told me so--and traveling has perhaps tired
her. Do you think she will like me, Mattie?"
The tone of voice was very anxious. Mattie looked up quickly.
"You will say I am full of foolish fancies, Doris, but do you know I
could not help thinking that she loved you; she looked as though she
did. Her eyes had quite a strange light in them as they rested on your
face, and the expression on hers was wonderful."
"That is certainly all fancy," replied Doris. "I have only seen her
twice in my life; it is not possible she can love me. Perhaps she
thought I was not so bad-looking--she admires beauty in everything, I
know; she told me so herself. She married papa, I suppose, for his
handsome face."
"Hush!" cried Mattie, "you must not say such things--it is wrong."
She could say no more; the earl and countess returned, and the
dinner-bell rang. During dinner it seemed to Mattie that, so far from
being mistaken, she was quite right--the countess certainly loved Doris;
her voice took quite another tone when she addressed her. She fancied
the earl noticed it too, and was pleased.
When Mattie was near, and Lady Linleigh was arranging some presents she
had brought home for the girls, he said.
"The countess will be quite happy now; she is so fond of young girls,
and she has two to spoil."
"I don't think I shall spoil either of them," said his wife, with a
happy light in her eyes; "they are both too good to be spoiled."