A Fair Mystery: The Story of a CoquetteBrame, Charlotte M.
General
A Fair Mystery: The Story of a Coquette
Brame, Charlotte M.
Fiction
"I have nothing to tell," he said; "I have nothing to say about her. I
was commissioned simply to tell you this. I may add that your father's
marriage was a private one, that he was for many years in India, and is
now returning home to take possession of his estates."
"A private marriage!" she said, slowly. "I hope he has not married
beneath him."
"There is no doubt but that the whole story of his marriage will be told
to you," said Earle. "And now, Doris, listen to me--you must return with
me; I cannot go without you. I promised that you should go back with me,
and it is imperative. The marriage will not be declared until you reach
home."
"It is so sudden," she said.
"Yes, but you surely cannot hesitate, Doris. Remember not only what
awaits you--your golden future--but remember, also, it is your own
parents who summon you."
"You do not quite understand, Earle. I have no hesitation in going. Of
course I shall go, but I want time to think."
"If you fear the people you are staying with will not be willing for you
to go, it is a great mistake; they could not possibly make any
objection. I will see them for you, if you like."
She raised her head in quick alarm.
"No, I would rather not, it is not needful. Give me just ten minutes to
decide. You are just; give me ten minutes in silence to think."
He remained mute and motionless by her side.
The Arno rippled musically at her feet; birds sang above her head.
"Tell me again;" she said, "what will my rank and title be?"
"You will be the Lady Doris Studleigh, only daughter of the Earl of
Linleigh----"
"And my fortune?" she interrupted.
"Of that I know nothing; but I should say it must be large. You will
probably be a wealthy heiress."
"And there is a place waiting for me in the grand world?"
"Most certainly," he replied.
"Now, then, let me think, Earle; I am all bewilderment and confusion.
Let me arrange my ideas, then I will explain them to you."
He did not know why she sat so silent, while quiver after quiver of pain
passed over her face--why her hands were so tightly clasped; but she in
that hour was reaping the reward of her folly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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