A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette. Charlotte M. Brame
there is a vein of cynicism, but no one suspects it. If you want to learn a few lessons of that kind, Mattie, you should go to a fashionable boarding-school. I declare that I never heard any one quoted for being good or virtuous; it was always for being nobly born, rich, titled. I learned my lesson quickly, Mattie."
"You did, indeed," was the brief reply, "and it is a lesson that I am sorry Earle's wife should ever have taken to heart."
The only reply was a careless laugh. Doris did not even care to quarrel with her sister, so highly delighted was she at the prospect of going to the Castle.
At length, to the intense delight and the relief of every one, Tuesday came, and it was time to go.
Doris did not love nature. She had no appreciation of its beauties; but in after years she did remember how the sun had shone on this day, and how blithely the little birds had sung in the trees; how sweet was the perfume of the flowers and the fragrance of the hedges as they drove to Downsbury Castle.
CHAPTER XX
"THEY TELL ME, CHILD, THAT YOU ARE REALLY PROMISED IN MARRIAGE."
It was a busy morning at Downsbury Castle. Several visitors had called, and when Mark, with his beautiful protegee, arrived, they were shown into the library to await the duke's leisure. It was evident to Mark that they had been expected, for a tempting lunch was served to them; a lunch the servants called it – to Mark and Doris it seemed a most sumptuous dinner. Mark could not help watching the girl. He himself was strange, embarrassed, confused; the silver fork was heavy, the napkin confused him; she sat with the easy grace and dignity of a young queen, sipping the rosy wine from the richly cut glass, and looking quite at her ease over it.
"You seem quite at home, Doris," said Mark, enviously.
"I feel so," she replied. "I could live happily enough here; it is so easy to be good when one is rich."
He looked at her in dull wonder, as he generally did when she puzzled him.
"But Doris," he said, "that is just exactly the opposite of what the Bible says. Don't you remember the text about the rich man, the camel, and the needle's eye?"
"I remember it," she replied. "Those who have no money long for it, and some desire it so ardently they will do anything to win it; the rich have no need to be envious or jealous."
He was not clever enough to argue with her; the only thing he could do was to tell her she was wrong, and that she should not talk that way.
Before there was time to reply, the door opened, and the duke came in.
He spoke kindly, saying that the duchess was engaged with some visitors, but that Lady Estelle Hereford would see Miss Brace, and would be pleased to show her the pictures and the flowers.
Mark looked astounded at the condescension; even the duke himself felt some little surprise when she had made the offer.
"You had better let the housekeeper take her, my dear," he had said.
"Very well, papa," she replied, carelessly; but after a few minutes she added: "I think it will amuse me to see this young girl, papa. I will show her some of the pictures and my flowers."
"She would be more comfortable with the housekeeper," he said; "but do as you wish, my dear."
When he saw the beautiful, refined, high-bred young girl seated at the table, he changed his mind – it did not seem so certain that she would be more comfortable with the housekeeper. He looked in wonder at her perfect face and graceful figure.
"She looks like a young princess," he said to himself: and his manner almost involuntarily changed – something of chivalrous respect came into it; and Doris, so marvelously quick, detected the change. She saw that he admired her, and then she felt quite at her ease.
He said something to Mark about the agent who was waiting to see him. Then the door opened, and Lady Estelle entered.
As her eyes fell upon the young girl she started, and her face grew deadly pale – so pale that the duke stepped hastily forward, and cried out:
"Are you ill, Estelle?"
"No," she replied; "the day is warm, and warm weather never suits me. Good-morning, Mr. Brace. Is this your daughter?"
Mark bowed to the pale, stately lady.
"This is my daughter, my lady," he replied.
Lady Estelle Hereford, going nearer to her, looked into the beautiful, radiant face. Doris returned the glance, and the two remained for one minute looking, for the second time in their lives, steadily at each other.
"I am glad to see you," said Lady Estelle, kindly. "I remember having seen you when you were a child."
Doris bowed. There was perfect ease, perfect grace in her manner, and the duke, looking at her, was fairly puzzled; that high-bred, perfect repose, that fascinating charm of manner surprised him. He looked at his daughter to see if she shared his surprise, and felt anxious about her when he saw that her face was still deadly pale.
Then he asked Mark to go and see the agent. Lady Estelle, with her rigid lips, smiled at Doris.
"I will take charge of you," she said. "Come with me." They left the room together. "We will go to the boudoir first," she said. "There are some very fine paintings; you will like to see them."
When they reached the boudoir Lady Estelle seemed to forget why they had gone there. She sat down on the couch, and placed Doris by her side.
"I saw you once when you were quite a little child," she said. "How you have altered; how tall you have grown!" She laid her hands on the shining waves of hair. "What beautiful hair you have!" she continued, and her fingers lingered caressingly on it. "They tell me, child, that you are really promised in marriage – is it true?"
There was no flush on that lovely young face; no sweet, tender coyness in the beautiful eyes; they were raised quite calmly to the questioning face.
"Yes," she replied; "it is quite true."
A look quite indescribable came over Lady Estelle; something yearning, wistful; then she slowly added:
"A love-story always interests me; will you tell me yours?"
"I have none," was the quick reply. "Earle Moray asked me to marry him, and I said yes."
"But you love him?" asked Lady Estelle.
"Yes, I love him – at least I suppose so. I do not know what love is; but I imagine I love him."
"You do not know what love is?" said Lady Estelle, in a tone of suppressed vehemence. "I will tell you. It is a fire that burns and pains – burns and pains; it is a torrent that destroys everything in its way; it is a hurricane that sweeps over every obstacle; it is a tempest in which the ship is forever and ever tossed; it is the highest bliss, the deepest misery! Oh, child! pray, pray that you may never know what love is!"
Who could have recognized the quiet, graceful, languid Lady Estelle? Her face shone like flame, and her eyes flashed fire – the calm, proud repose was all gone. Doris looked at her in wonder.
"There must be many kinds of love. I know nothing of that which you describe, and Earle loves me quite differently."
"How does he love you?" asked Lady Estelle.
"He is always singing to me, and these are his favorite lines:
"'Thou art my life, my soul, my heart,
The very eyes of me;
Thou hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.'
"And that just expresses Earle's love."
The lady's eyes were riveted on the glorious face; the rich, sweet voice had given such force and effect to the words. Then she said, anxiously:
"You will be very happy in your new life, I hope – even should I never see you again – I hope you will be happy."
"I hope so," replied Doris, in a dubious voice. Then her face brightened as she looked round the magnificent room. "I should be happy enough