"Yes; it is different to Hanover Square, miles of white satin and lace, bishops, bells, jewels, carriages, friends, and all that kind of thing. I know it is quite different; but let me have my own way, papa, please. Pray intercede for me, Lady Linleigh." The countess turned to her husband. "Let it be so, Ulric," she said. He was silent. He would have refused altogether, but for the uncomfortable suspicion haunting him that she had some painful though hidden motive, and that it was connected with that past life of hers, of which he knew so little; but for that, he would have laughed the whole idea to scorn. "My dear Doris, I cannot understand. Most ladies look upon their wedding as the crowning ceremony of their lives, the grandest event that can possibly happen to them--the very opportunity for a display of splendor and magnificence." "I know they do," she replied, gently. Then, as her hands clasped his, he felt her shudder, as though cold. She raised her face, and kissed him; she clasped her white arms round his neck. "Papa," she cried, "although I am your own child, I have never been much to you; the best part of my life has been spent away from you; I have never seen my mother's face; she is not here to plead to you for me. I shall have gone away from you, and altogether, you will have known but little of me. I hope Heaven will send you other children to love and bless you; but, papa, do not refuse my prayer. In the after years, when I am far away, and perhaps a fair-haired son stands pleading where I stand pleading now, you will like to remember that you yielded to my prayer--that you granted me the greatest favor it was in your power to grant." The earl looked down. Lady Linleigh was weeping bitterly. "You hear, Ulric!" she said, in a low, passionate voice; "you hear! She says she has no mother to plead for her! Let me plead in the mother's place! Do what she asks!" "I never did anything so unwillingly in all my life," said the earl; "it is unheard of, inconsistent, ridiculous in the highest degree; but I cannot refuse the prayer of my wife and child; it must be as you wish." He saw, even in the starlight, the expression of relief that came over the beautiful, restless face. "You promise, then," said Doris, "and you too, Lady Linleigh, that you will not tell to any creature living, except Mattie Brace, when I am to marry, whom I am to marry, or anything about it?" "I promise," said Lady Estelle. "And I too," repeated the earl, "although it is sorely against my better judgment, my will, my common sense, and everything else." "Never mind, papa," said Lady Doris, "you have made me happy." But even then, as she spoke, the tragedy was looming darkly over her. CHAPTER LXXIII. THE COUNTESS BECOMES CURIOUS.