"And about—you know what I mean, Earle."
"About our wedding, darling? It is to be in the sweet summer-time, that is, if you are willing. I urged it; and the countess joined me. Lord Linleigh—Heaven bless him!—did not raise the least objection. He said he would speak to you, and was perfectly kind and good about it; it will be for you to tell him, dear, your wish to have it all managed very quietly, and to speak of going abroad. Now, is not that glorious news for a bright sunshiny day? How green the trees are, and how blue the sky! Was the world ever so fair, love—ever one-half so fair?"
Suddenly he saw her start, and looking at her, saw an angry flush on her face, a bright light in her eyes. She was looking intently at some one who returned the glance with interest.
Following the direction of her eyes, Earle saw Lord Vivianne watching her most intently. There was a smile that was yet half a sneer on his lips, he was talking to a gentleman whom Earle instantly recognized as Colonel Clifford.
"There is your bete noir, Doris—Lord Vivianne," he said.
"I see him," she replied, quietly.
He did not know the hot impulse that was on her, he did not understand why she clinched the little jeweled whip so tightly in her hand. She would have given the whole wide world if she dare have ridden up to him, and have given him one stroke across the face with her whip—one stroke that would have left a burning red brand across the handsome, insolent face! She would have gloried in it. She could fancy how he would start and cry out, the coward!—how he would do his best to hide the shameful mark given to him by a woman's hand.
In all her life Lady Doris Studleigh never had such difficulty in controlling an impulse as she had in controlling that.
Then she was recalled to herself by a bow from Lord Vivianne and a look of unqualified wonder on her lover's face.
"Doris," he said, "my dear child, what are you going to do to Lord Vivianne? You look inclined to ride over him."