"Hush!" cried Mattie, "you must not say such things—it is wrong."
She could say no more; the earl and countess returned, and the dinner-bell rang. During dinner it seemed to Mattie that, so far from being mistaken, she was quite right—the countess certainly loved Doris; her voice took quite another tone when she addressed her. She fancied the earl noticed it too, and was pleased.
When Mattie was near, and Lady Linleigh was arranging some presents she had brought home for the girls, he said.
"The countess will be quite happy now; she is so fond of young girls, and she has two to spoil."
"I don't think I shall spoil either of them," said his wife, with a happy light in her eyes; "they are both too good to be spoiled."
CHAPTER LV.
"MY QUEEN ROSE OF THE ROSEBUDS."
The Countess of Linleigh sat anxiously watching the fair face of Lady Doris. All was going on well at Linleigh. The gentle, stately countess was already half worshiped there. The earl considered himself the happiest of men. One conversation had both pleased and touched Lady Linleigh. When she had been at home some days she fancied Mattie looked grave and almost sad. She had been thinking seriously about the girl—whether it was advisable to ask her to remain with Lady Doris as friend and companion, or whether it would be better to permit her to return to Brackenside. The earl had spoken of their going to London in May, if they did so, could Mattie go with them? Would it not be rather cruel than kind to give her notions, or accustom her to a life which it would be impossible for her to lead?
The countess saw Mattie walking one morning in the early spring alone, with a most thoughtful look on her face, and she went to her.
"I have been looking for early violets," said Mattie, glancing with a smile at Lady Linleigh, "in that pretty little dell—Thorny Dell, Doris calls it. The air is filled with their fragrance, yet I cannot see them. At Brackenside, at this time, the woods are full of them."