It was as if a ghost had suddenly risen to dispel her newly recovered joy and happiness with a word, a breath.
Cecil had been true, yes, but he was engaged to Lady Grace, and she, Doris, was within a few days of her marriage with Percy Levant.
The sudden revulsion of feeling sent the blood from her cheeks, and made her blind and dizzy, and she stretched out her hands as if to push some terrible phantom from her.
So she sat for a full minute; then her brain cleared, and she saw the situation distinctly and plainly.
She had regained her faith in her lover, but—it was too late to save her! After all, Spenser Churchill had effected his purpose, whatever it was, for Lord Cecil Neville was almost wedded to Lady Grace, and she——! She uttered a cry, almost a sob, as she thought of the man who was waiting for her downstairs.
If Lord Cecil had loved her, so had Percy Levant, and with a love as strong, and as true! Could she desert him? If so, then she would prove herself as false as she had deemed Cecil Neville, who could be nothing to her now, for was he not to marry Lady Grace? He had forgotten her, Doris, by this time, and even if he had not, her word was pledged to the other man who loved her so devotedly! What should she do? She fell on her knees and hid her face in her hands, and in that attitude of despairing supplication remained for half-an-hour.
Then she rose, and, bathing her burning eyes, went slowly downstairs. He was there, standing at the window, and he came to meet her with a haggard face, which told of the agony the intense suffering of waiting had cost him.
“Are you—are you rested?” he said, in a low voice, and he took her hand and led her to a couch. “I waited because I thought you would like to say ‘good-by.’”
She just raised her heavy lids, then clasped her hands in her lap and waited for him to go on.
“I am going. Of course, you know that. My love for you has not yet robbed me of all manliness, Doris, and—I am going. This discovery which you made this afternoon was half-suspected by me. The eyes of a man who loves are keen in all matters pertaining to the woman he loves, and from certain signs I suspected that Lord Cecil Neville was bound up in your past life; but it was suspicion only. The marquis’ innocent exposure has turned it into certainty. And so—I have waited to bid you good-by.”