If it had been to save her life, she could not have uttered another word. Lord Charter went on to relate some brilliant anecdotes of people he knew, and she affected to be engrossed in them, although she did not know one word that he was saying. Then, when he paused, she said: "It is a strange world, this London; it seems to me full of hidden romances." "You will say so when you have been here for a few years longer," he replied. "I have seen far stranger romances in the lives of my own friends and acquaintances than I have ever read in books." She was mistress of herself now; the first deadly pain of fear had passed; her heart had ceased to beat so quickly; the color came back to her lips and face. She wished to make a good impression on this Lord Charter, so that if he spoke of her to her former lover, he could praise her simplicity, her innocence, her ignorance of the world and its evil ways. That would be altogether unlike the cynical, worldly Doris he had known. Most admirably she assumed the character; indeed, her proper vocation would have been the stage--she could play any part at a moment's notice. As he looked at her beautiful face, her bright, clear eyes, the sweet smiles that played around her perfect lips--as he listened to the low, musical voice, admired the high-bred simplicity, the innocence that was a charm, the utter want of all worldly knowledge--Lord Charter said to himself that he had never met such a wonderful creature before; while she congratulated herself on the impression she had made. CHAPTER LXI. "I MIGHT HAVE BEEN SO HAPPY, BUT FOR THIS!" "Shall you go to the opera to-night, Doris?" asked the countess, as they lingered over a cup of chocolate. "I think--do not imagine I am over anxious--I think you require a little rest, dear. You are new to this life of excessive excitement and gayety." "I find it very pleasant," said Doris, with a smile. "So it is; I do not deny that. But, remember, I am a veteran compared to you. I have been through many seasons, and I know the fatigue of them. Take my advice, and rest a little if you feel tired." "I do not think I could rest," said Lady Doris. And there was something sad in the tone that the countess had never heard before. She looked anxiously at her. "That is what has struck me," said Lady Linleigh. "Your face is flushed, your eyes are too bright; the very spirit of unrest is on you. You have done too much. Do you know that every time the door opens you look round with a half-startled glance, as though half-dreading what you will see." "Do I? How absurd! It is simply a habit. I have nothing to dread." "Of course not; but it seems to me rather a pity for you to get confirmed in nervous habits while you are so young." Lady Doris laughed, but it seemed to the countess the ring of music was wanting in the sound. "I shall correct myself, now that I know," she replied.