Lady Doris laughed.
"I am so amused at myself, Mattie," she said. "If any one had ever told me, some years, even some months since, that I should be quite indifferent over my wedding-dress, I would not have believed it."
"But why are you indifferent?" asked Mattie. "I cannot understand. Is it because you are not marrying a nobleman—is it because you are marrying Earle?"
"No," was the reply. "You can believe me or not, Mattie, just as you please, but I assure you I am more proud in marrying Earle than if I were marrying a king."
"So I should imagine. Earle is a king; then why this strange desire for secrecy?"
The beautiful eyes were raised wistfully to her face.
"I may tell you, perhaps, some day, Mattie, but not now, dear—not now. You will marry some good, kindly man, Mattie—some one like yourself, who never knew the fiery heat of temptation; who has always kept—as you have kept—his eyes on Heaven; then, some day, dear, when you are sitting with your little children around you, I shall come to you—world-worn and weary, perhaps, who knows!—longing to lay my head in the clover grass, and then I may tell you all—but not now."
"Then there is a secret?" said Mattie, gently.
"Yes," was the wary reply, "there is a secret."
The words seemed half forced from her.