"I am going to Thorpe Woods," she replied, "and if you wish to go with me I am willing."
She spoke with the proud grace of a young princess. For the moment he actually forgot she was but the daughter of a tiller of the soil.
"I thank you," he said, gravely; and they turned aside from the high-road to the fields that led to Thorpe Woods.
The day was so lovely that it might have reminded him that life had brighter aims than the wrecking of a woman's soul and the winning of a woman's love; but it did not. The birds sang in the trees, the fair sun shone, the hawthorn covered the hedges, the woodbine scented the air, and they walked on, never even hearing the myriad voices that called them to look from earth to heaven.
"I was so anxious to see you again," said Lord Vivianne. "I tried to forget you, but I could not."
"Why should you wish to forget me?" Doris asked, coquettishly.
"Some men would flatter you," he replied, "and tell you that you are so fair they dreaded to remember you. I tell you the honest truth. I heard something which made me wish that I had never seen you, or that, having seen you, I might forget you."
"What did you hear?" she asked.
"You can guess. I heard that—young, lovely as you are—some one has been wise enough and quick enough to win you."
She smiled a slow, cruel, peculiar smile, and when Lord Vivianne saw that expression on her face, he felt that his victory was won.