She went to the piano, and the rich voice floated through the room. Many who saw her then never forgot her; the green and white dress floating round her, the water-lilies in her golden hair, a flush on the beautiful face, while the rich voice poured out such a strain of melody as few had ever heard equaled. They who saw her then, and knew what followed, did not forget the picture. CHAPTER LXXIV. A LAST VAIN APPEAL. "The night is so fine," said the earl, "you young people would enjoy a short time on the lawn. Look at those lilies asleep in the moonlight--go and wake them. Then we will have the card-tables. That is as it should be--cards for the old, moonlight for the young." That was the very chance Lord Vivianne had been longing for; he did not think he could bear suspense much longer. Now he was sure of a _tete-a-tete_. Here, in these rooms, half-filled with people, it had been an easy matter to avoid him, or to make others join in the conversation; it would not be as easy out there in the moonlight. Lady Linleigh, who had never for one moment relaxed her keen, untiring watch, saw him go up to Lady Doris, and speak a few words to her in a low voice. At first the beautiful face flushed hotly, and the bright eyes seemed to flash out a proud defiance. Then there was an expression of half-startled fear, followed by one of submission most unusual in her. "There is a mystery," she said to herself; "there is something between him and my darling!" The mother's first impulse was to screen her, to help her. Lady Linleigh crossed the room and went to her. "Doris," she said, in a clear distinct voice, that all might hear, "Doris, do not go if you prefer remaining here." The girl raised her eyes to the calm gentle face, and Lady Linleigh was shocked to see tears in them. "Thank you," she said, calmly; "I shall enjoy going out. Who could resist the moon and the flowers?" "Then do not remain long. You look tired, and we must remember you are not strong." Lord Vivianne joined them. "Lady Studleigh has graciously promised to show me the fountains by moonlight. I will watch her faithfully, and at the first symptom of fatigue I promise you she shall return." Then the countess could say no more. She saw Lord Vivianne carefully draw the black lace shawl over the white neck and arms. "Not that you can be cold," he said, in reply to some objection, "but, as Lady Linleigh says, we must be careful of you." And he smiled down on her with an air of protection and of appropriation, for which she in her rage could have struck him dead, and which made Lady Linleigh wonder exceedingly. "It is ten thousand pities," she thought, "that he does not know she is engaged to Earle."