CHAPTER XLIX.

"WELCOME, MY DAUGHTER, TO YOUR FATHER'S HEART."

Linleigh Court stands on the southern coast, where the southern sea kisses the shores, and the fertile lands yield sweetest fruits and flowers. It has not the stamp of antiquity which makes some of the fair homes of England so celebrated. The architecture is not of the grand old Norman type; it is of modern build, with large, cheerful, airy, sunlit rooms, each having a balcony filled with fairest flowers.

The chief recommendation of Linleigh Court is that the whole place does not contain one dull room; they are all filled with warmth, light, and fragrance. The grounds are large, extensive, and magnificently laid out, and slope to the very edge of the sea. They are sweet, old-fashioned gardens, where grow all the flowers poets have ever loved.

On a bright summer's day, when the sun was shining on countless flowers, when the white doves and birds of bright plumage fluttered among the trees, it would have been impossible to have found a fairer home than Linleigh Court. On this bright, cold winter's day it looked warm and cheerful; the evergreens were all in perfection.

The journey had been a comfortable one, thanks to Earle. He had seen that the travelers went first-class, which, notwithstanding the fifty pounds, would never have occurred to Mark. He had attended to every detail of comfort, liberally fed the guards and porters, in spite of the printed regulations looking him in the face and forbidding any such enormity.

When they reached Anderley station, there was a carriage with a coronet on the panels, a smart coachman and footman awaiting them. Mark looked aghast; the grandeur of the whole affair dismayed him; while Doris stepped into the carriage with the dainty air and grace of one who had always been accustomed to such luxuries. Then they drove through the rich Kentish scenery until they came to the park. Mark first caught sight of the tall towers of the Court from between the trees, and he cried out in surprise:

"This is a magnificent place, Doris. I think it is even better than Downsbury Castle."

"If you had seen the grand old Florentine, palaces, you would not think much of either," said Doris, indifferently.

Whatever happened, she had made up her mind not to admire; they should not find her easily surprised. Yet as the magnificent terraces, the fountains, the superb building itself, came into sight, her heart swelled higher and higher with vanity and gratified pride. No sweet compunction or humility such as sometimes visits a monarch about to ascend a throne came to her. No gratitude to Heaven that she was to share in such glorious gifts; no resolve to make others the happier for her happiness; nothing but a sudden elation, a vain, self-glorious sensation, and contempt for the life she had left behind.

"So this is my father's house," she mused. "I have yet to see why he has lived in this affluence, while I have been brought up as a farmer's daughter?"

The two who were watching her wondered what brought that rapt expression to that beautiful face. They little guessed the nature of her musings.

"I wish this was all over," said Mark, as the carriage drew up at the stately entrance. "Only Heaven knows what we have to do now."

Doris laughed, a low, rippling laugh of perfect content; then the great hall door was flung open, and they saw the magnificent interior, the liveried servants, the shining armor, and Mark's heart sank within him. Then he recovered himself a little, and when he looked around him, they were all three standing in one of the most magnificent halls in England. A servant was bowing before them, and Mark heard him say:

"My lord is anxiously expecting you; will you come this way?"

They passed through two or three rooms which, by their splendor, completely awed the farmer and his wife. Mark's shoes had never seemed to be so large and so thick as when they trod on that velvet pile. The wondrous mirrors, pictures and statues dazzled him, the quantity of ornaments puzzled him; he wondered how one could possibly move freely in such over-crowded rooms.

"We cannot all be earls," thought Mark, "and I am not sorry for it. I am more comfortable in my kitchen than I could be here."

Mrs. Brace followed with a pale face. She wondered less about the externals, and more what they were about to see. When they reached the library, chairs were placed for them.

"My lord will be with you in a few minutes," said the servant, and they were left alone.

"I cannot help trembling," said Mrs. Brace. "What have we to hear?"

The words had hardly left her lips, when the door opened, and a tall, handsome man entered the room. They saw that his face was pale and agitated, and his lips trembled. He looked at the farmer and Mrs. Brace, but not at the young girl who stood near them. As yet his eyes never met hers or rested on her. He went up to Mark with outstretched hands.

"You are Mr. Brace," he said. "Let me introduce myself--I am the Earl of Linleigh."

"I thought as much," replied Mark, anxious to do his best. "I have done what you wished, my lord--brought Mrs. Brace and Doris with me."

The earl held out his hand in silent greeting to the farmer's wife, but never once looked at the young girl. Then he drew a chair near to them.

"I must thank you for coming," he said. "You have been very prompt and attentive. I hoped you would come to-day, but I hardly dared expect it."

"We thought it better to lose no time," said Mark.

"You did well, and I thank you for it. I have something of great importance to say to both of you--something which ought to have been told years ago. You, perhaps, can almost guess it."

Mark nodded, while his wife sighed deeply.

"Twenty years ago," continued the earl, "I was a young man, gay, popular, fond of life, an officer in the army, and the younger son of a noble family, but poor. You do not know how poor a man of fashion can be. I was very popular--every house in London was open to me--but I knew that I was sought for my good spirits and genial ways. As for marriage--well, it was useless to think of it, unless I could marry some wealthy heiress."

He paused for a few minutes, and Mark shook his head sadly, as though he would say it was indeed a wretched state of things.

"I speak to you quite frankly," said the earl. "It might be possible to gloss over my follies, and give them kindly names--to say they were but youthful follies, no worse than those of other young men: I might say that I sowed my wild oats; but I come of a truthful race, and I say I was no better--not one-half as good, in fact, as I ought to have been. Then, as a climax to my other follies, I fell in love, and persuaded the young girl I loved to marry me privately. That was bad enough, but I did worse. When we had been a short time married, we quarreled. Neither would give in, and we parted. It matters little to my story who my wife was, whether above or below me in station, whether poor or rich--suffice it to say that we parted.

"Some time after I left England a little daughter was born to her. She still kept her secret. This little child she confided to the care of a servant. The servant must have known you or heard of you, for she left the little one, as you both know, at your door, and you took her in. They wrote to me and told me what they had done, far away in India. I was helpless to interfere. Then I lost my wife; but the child continued with you. I made no effort to reclaim her. I do not seek to gloss over my fault, believe me. The truth is, to a soldier in India a baby is not a very desirable object. The existence of this child was a source of embarrassment and confusion to me. I had not the means of supporting it as a daughter of the house of Studleigh should be supported, so I did what seems so fatally easy, yet always leads to bad consequences--I let circumstances drift along as they would. The end of it was that as years went on I almost forgot the child's existence."

"But the money," said Mark, wonderingly, "always came the same."

The earl looked up quickly.

"Yes--oh--of course that was attended to," he said; but his face flushed and his eyes fell.

"To my great surprise," he continued, "I found myself, by a chapter of accidents, suddenly raised to an earldom. I am Earl of Linleigh, now, and that is a very different matter from being simply Captain Studleigh. The daughter of Captain Studleigh might always remain unknown; the daughter of the Earl of Linleigh has a title and wealth of her own. You understand the difference, I am sure, Mr. Brace?"

"Yes," said Mark, "I understand."

"One of the first things I turned my attention to, after my accession to the estates, was the daughter my wife sent to you."

He looked nervously at the farmer and his wife, still never looking at Doris.

"Well, my lord," said Mark, "we have done our best by her; she has had a good education, and she is clever. The money sent has always been spent upon her. We love her very much, but she is not one of us, and never could be. So that it is something of a relief to us to give her back into your own hands. Doris, my dear," he continued, turning to the beautiful girl by his side, "it is of you we are speaking. You are not my daughter, my dear; my good wife here is not your mother; but we have been very fond of you since you were left a little helpless baby at our door, in the cold darkness and pouring rain."

The girl's face turned deadly pale. It was no news to her--this secret which poor Mark never dreamed she knew; it had long been no secret to her. She caught her breath with a low, gasping sigh.

"You have been very kind to me," she said--"very kind."

"Poor child," said Mrs. Brace, gently. "You see she loves us after all, Mark."

Then, for the first time, the earl turned slowly to look at his daughter. They could all see fear as well as anxiety in his eyes. At first his lips quivered, and his face grew deadly pale; then gradually every other emotion became absorbed in admiration. He came up to her and raised her face to the light; then, as the two faces looked at each other, the wonderful likeness between them became apparent.

"Nay, daughter," said the earl, gently, "no need to ask Mark Brace if this be indeed my daughter. Her face tells the story--she is a Studleigh. She seems like one of the family pictures come down from its frame. Welcome, my daughter, to your father's heart and home!"

And as he spoke, the earl kissed most tenderly the lovely, blushing face.