If they could but have heard what the little bird was telling—a warning and a requiem both in one.
Doris arose and went to the tree in whose branches the bird was hidden; she raised her face to see if she could see it in the thick green leaves. As she stood there, in the light of the dying day, the earl said:
"You will have a beautiful wife, Earle."
They all looked at her as she stood there in a beautiful dress of shining white silk, with a set of opals for ornaments; her fair white arms and white neck were half shrouded in lace, her golden hair was fastened negligently with a diamond arrow and hung in shining ripples over her shoulders; the faint light showed her face, fair and beautiful as a bright star.
"You will have a beautiful wife," he repeated, thoughtfully.
And as they all saw her then, they saw her until memory reproduced no more pictures for them.
"We have a fine moonlight night," said Earle. "Doris, this time to-morrow evening we shall be leaning over the steamboat side, watching the light in the water, and the track of the huge wheels; then you will be my wife."
Lady Linleigh rose and drew her shawl round her shapely shoulders.
"We must not forget to-morrow in the happiness of to-night," she said; "it will not do to have a pale bride. I am going in."
But first she went up to the tree where Doris was standing.