"But I cannot help it, mother," he replied, with a smile, "and that is where the whole of my excuse lies."
CHAPTER XXVII.
HOW SHE WAS TEMPTED.
The morrow came, but there was no hesitation on the part of Doris. Perhaps Lord Vivianne could not have done a better thing for himself than giving her that diamond ring; the light of it dazzled her; it reminded her, perpetually, of what might be hers; she might have felt some little remorse or sorrow but for that; when she looked at it she forgot everything except that she could have just as many as she liked of them.
It was in the morning when she went out to meet him; she had, adroitly, sent Earle to Quainton, under the pretext that she wanted some silk and wool; no one else would interfere with her. Mrs. Brace never attempted the least interference in her actions, so that she was perfectly safe. The loveliness of her face was not dimmed by one trace of sorrow or regret, yet she had quite decided upon betraying Earle, and leaving him to break his heart, or anything else that despair might urge him to do.
To have seen her walking through the sunlit fields and lanes, no one would have thought that she calmly and coolly contemplated the most cruel treachery of which woman could be guilty.
Across the long green grass fell the shadow of her lordly lover. He was standing by the stile, and on one side lay the dark woods, on the other rose the spire of the old church at Quainton. The whole scene was so fair and tranquil, it seemed almost wonderful that treachery and sin should exist. Doris trembled when Lord Vivianne came hastily to meet her.
"I began to think you would disappoint me," he said; "every minute that I have waited has seemed like an hour to me. What should I have done if you had not come?"
He took her hand as though it belonged to him.
"Shall we go to that shady spot in the woods?" he asked; "I can talk to you more easily there."