"Earle," she repeated a third time, "it is certainly an excellent thing that I do not wear chignons. How do young ladies manage, I wonder, with chignons and such a rapturous lover as you. Look at my flowers and dress; it is not, really, etiquette to kiss any young lady _en grande toilette_." He only laughed at the mocking words. What cared he, when his arm was round her, and he looked into her face again. "My darling," he said; "my queen rose of the rosebuds." She laid her hand on his lips. "That is Tennyson's poetry," she said, "not your own. Are you so very pleased to see me, Earle?" "So pleased that I cannot find words--so pleased that the wonder to me is that I can bear so much happiness." "If you think you are too happy, Earle, I can soon alter that state of things," she said, laughingly. "You cannot alter yourself," he replied. "While you are what you are, and as you are, I must be the happiest of men--I cannot help it. Mattie told me that I should find you changed. Why, my darling, you are beautiful, graceful, noble as a queen. In all the wide world I am quite sure there is no one like you--none." CHAPTER LVI. "WHEN SHE WAS YOUNG, PERHAPS SHE LOVED SOME ONE LIKE ME." Dinner was over, and Earle had recovered some little sense and reason. He had hardly looked at Lady Estelle. They had met as perfect strangers, and the earl introduced them. It struck the earl that his wife looked pale and strange; but whenever there was anything about Lady Linleigh that he did not understand, he always attributed it to sentiment. Then in her calm, high-bred fashion she bade Earle welcome to Linleigh; she spoke to him several times during dinner. That dinner seemed to Earle more like a dream than a reality. Whenever he looked at her he thought of Quainton woods and the strange story she had told him there, the truth of which seemed only known to herself and him. He wondered if she would speak to him about it--if she would allude to it in any way. He had never seen her since, although he had so well carried out her commands. After dinner all wonder on that point was at an end. "Doris," said the countess, "sing some of your pretty French _chansons_ for us. Mr. Moray, will you look over these sketches by Dore?" While Doris' rich voice filled the room, and Earle sat with the sketches in his hand, she, feigning to be interested in them, said: "I have never had a chance to thank you, but I thank you now, with all my heart, with gratitude that words cannot express. Can you understand how grateful I am to you, Earle Moray?" There was a pretty, musical lingering on his name which charmed him. He looked into the proud, fair face, and said, simply: "A man might be proud to give his life for you, Lady Linleigh. I am happy to think that it was in my power to be of service to you." "You will keep my secret always, Earle?" "Always, Lady Linleigh, as I would guard my life or my honor."