"HEAVEN SAVE EARLE!"
"August at last," said Lady Linleigh; "it is the first to-day. Not long
now, Doris, until the tenth."
"No; not long," was the reply.
"Everything is ready and waiting at Hyde House," continued the countess;
"the whole of your _trousseau_ is ready, and a more magnificent one was
never designed."
"I am more than satisfied with it," said the young beauty, "What time
will Mattie Brace be here, Lady Linleigh?"
"About noon. I shall send the carriage to the station."
"I will drive my pretty ponies," said Doris, eagerly. "I have only used
them once since papa gave them to me. She will be so pleased if I meet
her."
"It is well thought of, my dear," said Lady Estelle. "Doris, do you know
what I have done?"
"No, something kind and nice, like yourself; I know by the sound of your
voice."
"I have ordered a very nice little _trousseau_ for Mattie--dresses that
will not be unsuited to her at home, yet will do for her to wear here. I
shall be so lonely when you are gone that I thought of asking her to
remain here. I shall miss you so much, Doris."
"And I shall miss you, dear Lady Linleigh. I never thought when you came
home to my father's house, that I should learn to love you so dearly."
Lady Linleigh clasped her arms round the girl's neck.
"Tell me one thing," she said, caressingly; "do you think I have been as
kind to you as your own mother would have been?"
"I do not think, dear Lady Linleigh; I am quite sure," she replied.
"It is an odd fancy of mine," said the countess, with a wistful smile,
"but I have always been so fond of children. I have such a longing to
hear a child call me mother. Doris--you will have left me in ten days.
Will you kiss me, and say, 'Heaven bless you, my own mother?'"
"Of course I will. Heaven bless you, my own dear mother; you have been
one to me. You have helped me in every little trouble and perplexity;
you have been kind to me, without ceasing. Why, Lady Linleigh, your face
is wet with tears!"
"Is it, darling? I feel your going away so much. But we must not remain
talking here. If you wish to drive to the station, it is high time the
ponies were brought round, and I myself wish to see that everything is
as she will like it in Mattie's room."
The warmer days of the golden summer had passed away rapidly; it was the
first of August, and the marriage was to be on the tenth. So great and
entire had been the secrecy preserved, that no creature in that vast
establishment knew anything at all about it, the servants and every one
else thought that Mattie was simply coming for her yearly visit; but
that the wedding of their young lady was on the _tapis_, no one for a
moment suspected.
Lord Vivianne had not made a very long stay at Linleigh Court; matters
were not very pleasant for him there. Lady Linleigh seemed suddenly to
have grown very observant, and he found but few opportunities of
speaking to Doris. After his impassioned, violent words on that evening,
she had made no answer; the rapture and tenderness had all died from her
face--a hard, fixed look came in her eyes.
"Let the worst come now," she said; "it will serve him right."
She pleaded and prayed no more; and it was well for him that he could
not read the thoughts that were in her mind. He poured out such a
torrent of passionate words she heard none of them. After a time she
said:
"I think we have been out quite long enough, Lord Vivianne: we will
return, if you please."
When they reached the lawn again, where the ladies, with their attendant
cavaliers, were enjoying the fair, sweet night, he suddenly took her
right hand, and kissed it.
"I shall hope to make this mine, one day," he said.
She snatched it from him with sudden violence, and it struck the trunk
of a tree with such terrible force that he thought she had broken it.
"I will cut my hand off," she said, "if you touch it again."
He was startled by her vehemence.
"You do indeed hate me, Dora," he said, sadly.
"I do, indeed," was the reply.
And then they saw Lady Linleigh walking across the lawn to them.
"My dear Doris," her ladyship cried, "what is the matter, darling? See!
you have a great stain of blood on your dress--and your hand! What has
happened?"
She took the white hand, with its purple, bleeding bruise, into her own.
"What is the matter, Doris? Lord Vivianne, what is the matter?"
She saw that he looked dreadfully distressed.
"Dear Lady Linleigh, it is nothing," said Lady Doris, quickly, fearing
that he would speak. "I was resting against the gate there, and I
thought something was on my hand, a snake crawled over it--a horrible,
slimy snake--and in my hurry, I bruised it against the gate--that is
all."
"But," said the countess, perplexedly, "Lord Vivianne was with you."
"Oh, yes, he was there!"
"I was there, Lady Linleigh, and I am terribly distressed over the
accident, but Lady Studleigh was too quick for me, before I could assure
her that there was nothing the matter, she had flung her hand so
violently that I thought she had broken it. There was no snake."
"There could not be," said the countess. "I have never heard of any
snakes at Linleigh. Give me your hand, child. What a terrible bruise!"
The countess took her injured hand and gently bound it, little dreaming
how it had been hurt.
After that Lord Vivianne had been very much subdued. Such an excess of
hatred startled him; he could not realize it, he was half alarmed at
the violence of the passion he had evoked; still no idea of yielding
came to him. As he watched her, day after day, her beauty, her grace,
grew more and more enchanting to him. It was not so much love as madness
that possessed him; lie would not have relinquished his hold or have
given her up to have saved his life.
During the remainder of his stay the countess kept keen, unwavering
watch over him, but he had learned his lesson after what he had seen.
How little she recked of physical pain, how careless she was of herself.
He dared not venture to tease her; he felt that she was quite capable of
committing murder if he drove her too far; he contented himself by
saying to her when he was going:
"It is understood between us, then, Lady Studleigh, that I return on the
twentieth of August for your decision."
"It is quite understood," she replied, with calm dignity.
"I hope it will be a favorable one to me, and I hope my reception will
be kinder next time than it has been this."
"You will always be welcomed according to your deserts," she replied.
"I hope, above all, the poor, bruised hand will be better when I come
again," he said, with a meaning smile, "and that you will not find any
more snakes in those beautiful moon-lit grounds."
"It will be as well for the snakes to keep away," she said.
When he went, the little current of gayety that had come with him died
away all together. Lady Linleigh was relieved when he had gone; without
knowing what to suspect, she suspected something; she felt like some one
walking on the brink of a volcano; but when he was gone, and a few days
had passed without anything happening, she felt relieved. She had not
forgotten the incident of the bruised hand; although everything else
might be fancy, that was not. When Lord Vivianne bade the earl good-bye,
he said:
"I have enjoyed my visit very much, Lord Linleigh; so much that if I
should return by the same route about the end of August, I shall beg
permission to repeat it."
The earl most cordially assured him that he would be welcome.
And so the bright summer days had worn away. To Lady Doris each one
brought a fresh sensation of relief. The tenth was drawing near. Lord
Vivianne was still in utter and profound ignorance of all that was
transpiring. She would be married and away when he came back; how she
enjoyed the thought of his discomfiture. She laughed aloud as she
thought of his impotent anger.
"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!"