"It is rather a hopeless task, Doris, to look for a bird in the growing darkness," she said; "and, my darling, I have come to wish you good-night."
Doris turned to her, and bending her graceful head, laid it on her mother's shoulder.
"It is not only good-night, but good-bye," she said; "I shall hardly see you to-morrow."
She clasped her warm, soft arms round the countess' neck.
"Good-bye, dearest Lady Linleigh," she said; "you have been very good to me; you have made home very happy for me; you have been like the dearest mother to me. Good-night; may Heaven bless you!"
Such unusual, such solemn words for her to use! The two fair faces touched each other. There was a warm, close embrace, then Lady Linleigh went away. When did she forget that parting, or the last look on that face?
"I am jealous," said Lord Linleigh, parting the branches and looking at his daughter. "I wanted the kindest good-night. What has my daughter to say to me? It is my farewell, also. To-morrow you will be Lady Moray, and I shall be forgotten."
Her heart was strangely touched and softened.
"Not forgotten by me, papa," she said; "next to Earle, I shall always love you better than any one in the world."
"Next to Earle. Well, I must be content. That is enough. Good-night, my dear and only child; may Heaven send you a happy life."