There were to be no grand festivities--no one had heart for them; the wedding was to be quiet, attended only by a few friends; and Lord Earle succeeded in obtaining a promise from Lionel which completely set his heart at rest. It was that he would never seek another home--that he and Lillian would consent to live at Earlescourt. Her father could not endure the thought of parting with her.
"It will be your home, Lionel," he said, "in the course of after-years. Make it so now. We shall be one family, and I think a happy one."
So it was arranged, much to everybody's delight. A few days before the wedding took place, a letter came which seemed to puzzle Lord Earle very much. He folded it without speaking, but, when breakfast was over, he drew his wife's hand within his own.
"Dora," he said, "there will never be any secrets between us for the future. I want you to read this letter--it is from Valentine Charteris that was, Princess Borgezi that is. She is in England, at Greenoke, and asks permission to come to Lillian's wedding; the answer must rest with you, dear."
She took the letter from him and read it through; the noble heart of the woman spoke in every line, yet in some vague way Dora dreaded to look again upon the calm, grand beauty of Valentine's face.
"Have no fear, Dora, in saying just what you think," said her husband; "I would not have our present happiness clouded for the world. One word will suffice--if you do not quite like the thought, I will write to her and ask her to defer the visit."
But Dora would not be outdone in magnanimity. With resolute force, she cast from her every unworthy thought.
"Let her come, Ronald," she said, raising her clear, dark eyes to his. "I shall be pleased to see her. I owe her some amends."
He was unfeignedly pleased, and so was every one else. Lady Helena alone felt some little doubts as to Dora's capability of controlling herself.
The Princess Borgezi was to come alone; she had not said at what hour they might expect her.
Lady Dora had hardly understood why her thoughts went back so constantly to her lost child. Beatrice had loved the beautiful, gracious woman who was coming to visit them. It may have been that which prompted her, on the day before Lillian's marriage, when the house was alive with the bustle and turmoil of preparation, to go to the silent, solitary rooms where her daughter's voice had once made sweetest music.
She was there alone for some time; it was Lord Earle who found her, and tried to still her bitter weeping.
"It is useless, Ronald," she cried; "I can not help asking why my bright, beautiful darling should be lying there. It is only two years since a wedding wreath was made for her."
Nothing would comfort her but a visit to her daughter's grave.
It was a long walk, but she preferred taking it alone. She said she should feel better after it. They yielded to her wish.
Before she had quitted the house many minutes, the Princess Borgezi arrived.
There was no restraint in Ronald's greeting. He was heartily glad to see her--glad to look once more on the lovely Grecian face that had seemed to him, years ago, the only model for Queen Guinivere. They talked for a few minutes; then Valentine, turning to him, said:
"Now let me see Lady Dora. My visit is really to her."
