It struck him that was the reason she had left him; he had not thought of that before; it was because this news came to her, and she would not be found with him. But who could have told her?—that was the puzzle. Some one must have gone straight from England to Florence. The more he thought of it the more he was puzzled.
He felt quite certain that on the morning he left her to secure her opera box, and to purchase flowers for her, she knew nothing of it. He had left her by the river-side; when he returned she was gone. During that interval, short as it was, some one must have found her, have told her, and brought her to England. Who could that some one be?
Not Earle, surely not Earle, her lover—surely not he! "He would have been more likely to kill her than to bring her home if he had found her with me," he said to himself.
He was keen enough, but it never occurred to him that she had the skill to deceive Earle as well.
He returned by the early train to London; he should be in time then, he said, to give her a morning call. He smiled to himself as he thought of her confusion. He reached Hyde House when the earl and countess had just driven to a fashionable dejeuner, and Lady Doris was left alone; she desired it should be so; she wanted time to arrange her thoughts, to recover herself; and they, believing in her plea of fatigue, had been quite willing to leave her. She had made up her mind, no matter what it cost her, not to see Lord Vivianne again. It would be easy to manage it; she would decline all invitations on the plea of ill health, and she would refuse to receive visitors at home. Strict orders had been given to that effect--the servants understood that their young lady was tired, and would see no one, except, as a matter of course, Mr. Moray.
She believed herself quite safe; that morning Earle had promised to spend with her, and they would arrange about their wedding and the honeymoon that was never to end.
She had dressed herself so prettily for Earle—she went to the conservatory intending, there, to spend the morning with him. She walked among the flowers, singing in a soft, low voice to herself; it would all soon be over, she should so soon be away from London, where her terrible secret seemed to have taken bodily shape. She should so soon be safe in her own home in Linleigh; above all, she should soon be Earle's wife.
"Earle's wife—how he loves me!" thought the girl, "how true and good and noble he is, my Earle!"
Then a shadow fell over the brightness of the flowers. She raised her eyes, believing it was he, and they fell on the smiling face of Lord Vivianne.
For one instant she looked at him spell-bound, fascinated, as one sees a fluttering bird charmed by a snake. Her heart gave one great bound.