“Yes, I can do that—and will!”
“As you like. I will say ‘good-night;’ by the way, I should say ‘good-by,’ for you may be shot!” he added, as calmly as if he were saying, “It may rain.”
“I am not coward enough to be afraid of that, or fool enough to think it likely!” said Lord Cecil, as carelessly. “Good-night, sir,” and he held the door open for him.
As he did so the marquis raised his eyelids and shot a glance at the handsome face; then, with a bow and a cold smile, passed out.
Lord Cecil went up to his own room, and, lighting a cigar, paced up and down, thinking deeply.
It was marvelous that the marquis should have acted as he had done! Double his allowance! He would be able to marry at once, instead of waiting. Marry Doris at once! The blood beat in a tumult at his heart; then a dull weight seemed to fall upon him as he remembered his debts. But he thrust the incubus from him; something might be done respecting them, some arrangement made. At any rate, he would have an income large enough to marry on, and Doris——! He puffed at his cigar fiercely, and called up a vision of the lovely face, and tried to imagine the expression the deep, dark, melting orbs would wear when he told her. Then, as he reflected that he should not see her on the morrow, he sighed.
“It almost seems as if my darling had some presentiment that we should not meet,” he said to himself. “What will she say when she finds that I am not there and goes to the stone for the letter?”
Then he sat down to the table to write it. It was not easy, for he wanted to say enough to cover ten pages; but at last he wrote a few lines only:
My Darling:—While you are reading this I shall be on my way to Ireland—with my heart in Barton meadows. I can’t tell you in a letter all that has happened; only this, that, as he himself put it, the wicked marquis is not so bad as he is painted! Doris, when I come back, it will be to ask you to be my wife—not in a year or two, but soon, soon! I’m a bad hand at writing letters, and I could not, if I tried, tell you how I love you, or how I wish I were near you, to see and hear you, my beautiful angel! Ever yours,
Cecil.