"I will steer clear of them, dear Lady Linleigh," said the impatient voice. "While the May sun is shining and the carriage is at the door, there is hardly time to talk about the dangers of the world. I am quite willing to take them for granted."
Lady Linleigh said to herself that she could not alter her nature—that she was brilliant, polished, cold, beautiful, without warmth of heart, and that she could not help it. Yet she felt most bitterly disappointed; her heart had yearned for one kind word, for one token of affection from her, but it was not to be.
The earl looked in surprise from his wife to his daughter, but he made up his mind never to interfere between them, or to appear to notice anything that passed. Then they entered the carriage and drove to St. James'.
Those present will not soon forget the beauty of the women or the splendor of the whole scene. Never since the days when her royal consort stood by her side had the queen looked better or happier than on this day, when she woke to the sense that the great voice of a mighty nation was calling her. Noble sons and fair daughters stood around her; the noblest of the realm had hastened to do her homage. The sun that shone upon the palace walls and streamed through the windows, fell on no more calm or royal face than hers.
There was some little excitement when the name of the Countess of Linleigh was announced. Many there remembered her years ago, when she had made her debut, and smiled to think that for love of the gallant earl she had remained unmarried all these years. With the entrance of Lady Doris Studleigh into the royal presence, there was a sensation such as had not been made at the court for many long years. The girl's glorious beauty, her imperial grace, the proud carriage, the splendor of her jewels, the fascination that seemed to clothe her as a garment—even the royal face lighted up with admiration as the queen's eyes fell on her. Words more kind than usual came from the royal lady's lips, and her heart beating high with triumph, her position secure, the Lady Doris passed from that gracious presence. Even as she stood bending low before the queen, she said to herself that she should be a favorite at court, if looks promised anything.
The Duchess of Downsbury was well pleased with her young protegee.
"My dear," she, said to her, when the ordeal was over, "whatever else you may lack, you certainly have plenty of nerve."
Lady Doris raised her eyes unflinchingly to her grace's face.
"Different people," she said, "give other names to the quality I possess. Your grace calls it nerve—the Studleighs call it courage."
"Well," said the duchess, grimly, "I will call it courage, then; you have plenty of it, Lady Doris."