CHAPTER LXXVII.
TRYING ON THE WEDDING-DRESS.
"What does she look like?" cried Mattie in a passion of admiration, as they placed the bridal veil on the golden head.
"It would require a poet to tell us," said the countess; "and as we have one close at hand, we will ask him. Mattie, go and bring Earle here. Close the door after you. I should not like every one to know what we have been doing."
And presently, Earle stood before a figure that seemed to him too beautiful to be real—a tall, graceful figure that seemed to rise from the waves of white satin and lace—as a graceful flower from its stem. Through the bridal veil he caught the sheen of the golden hair—the dainty color of the face—the deep color of the violet eyes. The sweet odor of orange blossoms floated to him.
"Doris," he said, in a low voice; "my beautiful love, let me see your face."
It was Lady Linleigh who threw back the veil, so that he might see the lovely, blushing face. Tears stood in the young lover's eyes, although he tried to control his emotion.
"Is it possible, Lady Linleigh?" he asked, "that this is my wife—that—well, I had better not say too much; you do not think I shall wake up and find it all a dream?"
"No, it is real enough."
Then he drew nearer to her.
"You will let me give you one kiss, Doris—Lady Linleigh will not be horrified. You will be Lady Moray soon. What is my poor name worth, that it should be so highly honored?"