CHAPTER LX.

DORIS AFFECTS A LITTLE CURIOSITY.

"You are not looking quite so well as usual this morning, Doris," said Lady Linleigh. "You are nervous, too; you start at every sound. What is wrong, dear?"

"Nothing," replied Lady Doris, "but that I did not sleep well. I had a most unpleasant dream."

"What was it?" asked the countess.

"About Italy--about some one I knew, I saw there. Only a foolish dream, and I am foolish to mention it."

"Of all people in the world, you are the last I ever should have imagined to know what being nervous meant."

"I am not nervous," replied Lady Doris, quickly. "It would annoy me very much to hear any one say so."

But though she indignantly denied the fact as being a very discreditable one, she looked pale, and the laughing eyes had lost something of their brightness. She started at every sound; and once, when a violent peal from the bell sounded through the house, Lady Linleigh saw that she dropped the book she was holding.

Much did the countess wonder what had affected her fair young daughter. Yet it was such a trifle, such a foolish dream that had caused her to stop for one moment in her career of triumph, and look at the possible dangers in store for her.

She dreamed that she was walking in a pretty wood near Florence, when suddenly the tall trees began to assume the most grotesque shapes; huge branches became long arms, all trying to grasp her, leaves became fingers trying to detain her. No sooner had she eluded the clutch of one giant arm than another was stretched out toward her. In vain she tried to elude them. Then she heard her own name called out in a voice which, with a strange thrill of fear, she recognized as Lord Vivianne's. Then she saw him standing underneath one of the giant arms, and he held a long, shining knife in his hands.

"I have been looking for you for some time," he said; "now that I have found you, I mean to kill you, because you were faithless to me."

She tried to escape, but the giant arms clutched her, the fingers clasped round her, the shining steel flashed before her eyes, and she awoke--awoke to feel such fear as she had never before known.

She took herself to task for it. Suppose that the worst should come, that she had to meet him again! Was it likely that in this altered position he would know her? It was most unlikely, most improbable. Suppose that she met him in a ball-room--where it was most probable they would meet--and they were introduced to each other as strangers! Well, even then, she had nerve enough, courage enough, to look at him and fail to recognize him. She would, at the worst, solemnly swear that he was mistaken, and he--well, for his own sake, it was most improbable that he would dare to mention the terms upon which they had lived. Nothing but shame and dislike of all good people could follow such an avowal on his part. It would do him ten thousand times more harm than good.

"So I need not fear," she said to herself. "I have no reason to be afraid, even if I should meet him face to face to-day!"

She did not feel the least regret or remorse for her sin. For her lost innocence, her fair fame, her soul's welfare, she cared but little--yet she would have given much if she had avoided this wrong, not because it was wrong, but because the penalty of it might be unpleasant.

In the bright heaven of her full content it was the one dark cloud; to the full glory of her most brilliant triumph it was the one drawback.

Ah! if they knew--if the royal hearts that leaned so kindly toward her even dreamed of what she had been--farewell to her sweet dream of court favor. If the innocent young princess who had professed so much liking for her only ever so faintly suspected one half of the horrible truth, farewell to all kindly words! Why, if the handsome earl, her father, dreamed of it, he would send her adrift at once!

She shrugged her white shoulders and said to herself, over and over again, that she must keep her secret. When she was once married, her fortune assured--settled upon her beyond recall--then it would not matter so much. Besides, there were ways out of all difficulties. She held up her white, jeweled hands and looked steadfastly at them.

"Smaller, weaker fingers than these have robbed a man of his life," she said to herself. "If the worst comes, I have an example in history that I should know how to follow."

And indeed it would have fared badly with any one who stood in the path of Lady Doris Studleigh.

There was a great dinner that evening at Hyde House. A Russian grand duke, a German prince, and just the very _elite_ of London were among those present. The Countess of Linleigh was a perfect hostess; and in Lady Doris Studleigh's bright presence there was never any want of brilliancy or wit.

It was Lord Charter who mentioned her lover's name. He turned to Lord Linleigh and asked him if he had seen Lord Charles Vivianne lately.

Lady Doris was sitting near him, so that she distinctly heard the question and answer.

"Lord Vivianne!" replied the earl. "I do not even know him."

"I had forgotten," said his questioner, "how long you have been absent from England; of course you would not know him."

"It seems to me," said the earl, laughing, "that a whole generation of young men have come into fashion since I left the country. I do not recollect having ever seen Lord Vivianne. Why do you ask me?"

"I heard him say how anxious he was to be introduced to you," replied Lord Charter.

"I shall be very happy," replied the earl, indifferently.

She had listened at the very first sound of that name which she had grown to hate so cordially; all her attention had been fully aroused.

"Now for the Studleigh courage," she said to herself, and she listened. The color did not fade from her beautiful face; her lips never lost their smile, nor her eyes their light.

When Lord Charter had finished his conversation with the earl, she turned to him in the most winning manner.

"Vivianne, did you say? What a pretty name! Is it English?"

"Yes," he replied. "Most ladies admire the name and the bearer of it."

"Is he a great hero?" she asked, her eyes bright with interest and innocence as she raised them to his face. "Is he a great statesman?"

"No," was the reply; "I am sorry to say he is a great flirt."

"A flirt!" she repeated, in a voice full of disappointment. "I thought you meant that he was some one to be admired."

"So he is admired, for his handsome face," replied Lord Charter.

She repeated the name again, as though she were saying it softly to herself.

"Is there a Lady Vivianne?" she asked, after a pause.

"Not yet," was the reply; "but from what I hear there is a prospect of one." Then he laughed a little. "You are a stranger among us, Lady Studleigh; you will hardly understand that, at one time or another, almost every prominent man in London has been jealous of Lord Vivianne."

"Indeed! He must be a paragon, then."

There was something of a sneer in her voice, but he did not perceive it.

"Not exactly a paragon, Lady Studleigh; but--I repeat it--a flirt."

"And he is to be married, you say? I should not imagine the lot to be a very bright one for the lady."

"You take things very literally, Lady Studleigh. I cannot vouch for the fact that he is going to be married, but there is a rumor afloat that we all enjoy very much. It is that, after flirting half his lifetime, Lord Vivianne is caught at last."

She tried to look politely indifferent. Great heavens! how her heart was beating, how every nerve thrilled, how intense was the excitement! She had not known how frightened she had been at the idea of meeting him until now!

"I am afraid," said Lord Charter, "that you do not take any interest in my friend."

"Yes, I do. To whom has he surrendered his liberty at last?"

"No one knows," was the answer, given with an air of candor that would at any other time have greatly amused Lady Doris. "There is a mystery about it. Lord Vivianne has been spending some little time in Florence, and there it is supposed he fell in love with a princess in disguise."

Despite the Studleigh courage and her own strong nerve, she could not prevent herself from growing pale; her heart beat loud with a terrible fear; the lights seemed to swim in one confused mass before her eyes; then with a violent effort she controlled herself.

"Florence," she repeated; "he went far enough afield for his romance. Why was the princess disguised?"

"It may be all nonsense. I have heard many different stories; some say that his heroine was really a person of low birth and humble position. I cannot tell; I only know one thing."

How her heart beat as she repeated those two words.

"One thing! What is it?"

"Why, that love, or something else, has quite changed Lord Charles Vivianne. He used to be gay, good-humored, slightly cynical; now he is gloomy, sullen, and bad-tempered. I heard a friend of his say that he seemed to be always looking for some one."

The beautiful face, in spite of all her efforts, grew paler.

"Looking for some one! What a strange idea!" she said.

"Perhaps the lady refused him, and he wants to be revenged. Perhaps she jilted him, and he is looking for her," laughed Lord Charter, little dreaming how near he was to the truth.

If it had been to save her life, she could not have uttered another word. Lord Charter went on to relate some brilliant anecdotes of people he knew, and she affected to be engrossed in them, although she did not know one word that he was saying. Then, when he paused, she said:

"It is a strange world, this London; it seems to me full of hidden romances."

"You will say so when you have been here for a few years longer," he replied. "I have seen far stranger romances in the lives of my own friends and acquaintances than I have ever read in books."

She was mistress of herself now; the first deadly pain of fear had passed; her heart had ceased to beat so quickly; the color came back to her lips and face. She wished to make a good impression on this Lord Charter, so that if he spoke of her to her former lover, he could praise her simplicity, her innocence, her ignorance of the world and its evil ways. That would be altogether unlike the cynical, worldly Doris he had known.

Most admirably she assumed the character; indeed, her proper vocation would have been the stage--she could play any part at a moment's notice.

As he looked at her beautiful face, her bright, clear eyes, the sweet smiles that played around her perfect lips--as he listened to the low, musical voice, admired the high-bred simplicity, the innocence that was a charm, the utter want of all worldly knowledge--Lord Charter said to himself that he had never met such a wonderful creature before; while she congratulated herself on the impression she had made.