CHAPTER LIV.

"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