"It may have been, but it really sounded like a sudden, half-choked cry."
"Some of the servants are about still. It is nothing. For the last time, good-night, Earle."
Then they parted, each going to his room; but Earle could not forget that cry.
"How foolish I am," he thought; "but I shall not rest at all unless I know that Doris is all right."
He went down the broad corridor that led to her suit of rooms; he saw that the outer door was closed; he listened, all was hushed and silent; there was not a stir, not a movement, not a sound.
"Good-night, my love," said Earle; "fair dreams, sweet sleep. You will be mine to-morrow."
It was all right. He laughed at himself for the foolish fear, and went back to his own room. He never saw the white, despairing face and creeping figure of the wretched man who had done the atrocious deed.
He slept soundly for some few hours, then the kindly sun woke him, shining on his face—a warm, sweet greeting, and he thought Heaven was blessing his wedding-day. The birds were all singing in the trees, the flowers blooming, the whole world fair and smiling.
"My love will be mine to-day!" he thought. "Shine on, blessed sun! there is no day like this!"
It would have gladdened his mother's heart had she been there to have seen him bend his head so reverently, and pray Heaven to shower down all blessings on Doris.