"Lady Studleigh is hardly just to me," he replied. "She tells you what I say, but she does not tell you, although she knows, _what led me to form that opinion_." The countess looked quickly from one to the other with a grave intentness that did not escape either. There was something more than mere badinage in this--something which she did not at all understand. Then Lady Doris saw that she had made a mistake in trying to expose him--she must not play with edged tools. Lady Linleigh left them, not feeling quite satisfied. Why should he speak in that contemptuous manner of women, to a woman who was so young, so beautiful? It was not chivalrous--it was not even gentlemanly. And Lady Doris' manner puzzled her too; it was as though she wished to expose Lord Vivianne, to make others think evil of him. She could not forget the little circumstance. "Yet it must be a fancy of mine," she thought. "They have so seldom met, they know so little of each other, there can be nothing but the most commonplace acquaintance between them." Still it made her curious, and she purposely selected Lord Vivianne to take her down to dinner, in order that she might, after a little diplomatic fashion of her own, question him. "How do you think Lady Studleigh is looking?" she asked him, when they had a chance for a few quiet words. "She was not well at all when we left London." "I think her looking as beautiful as it is possible for any one to look," he replied, "and as well." "I am glad you think so. It must have been a great privation for her to leave London in the very midst of the season, or, I should say, in the midst of a brilliant _finale_." "Yes; I do not remember, of late years, any one who created such a furor as Lady Studleigh," was his reply. "You met her often during the season?" "Yes, I met her very frequently; it was impossible to go much into society without doing so--she was an unusual favorite." The countess saw plainly that if he admired her he was not going to say so; she would not be able to get at his real opinion. Yet the very caution of his words and manner, the restraint in his speech, the guarded expression of his face, all told her that she was right in her half-formed fancy. There was something unusual--either on his part or hers--which she could not make out. She would not devote more time to him that evening; the guests were numerous, and must be entertained. The gentlemen did not remain long in the dining-room, and the drawing-room presented a beautiful picture; the lamps were all lighted and shone like huge pearls among the countless flowers; the gay dresses and shining jewels of the ladies seemed to shine with unwonted luster. The sweet summer evening was so warm and so fragrant, the rich silken hangings were drawn, and the long windows were open, and from them the countess saw a fairyland of moonlight and flowers. "I wish we had some music," said the earl; "it only wants that to complete the enchantment. Doris, will you sing?"