But first she went up to the tree where Doris was standing. "It is rather a hopeless task, Doris, to look for a bird in the growing darkness," she said; "and, my darling, I have come to wish you good-night." Doris turned to her, and bending her graceful head, laid it on her mother's shoulder. "It is not only good-night, but good-bye," she said; "I shall hardly see you to-morrow." She clasped her warm, soft arms round the countess' neck. "Good-bye, dearest Lady Linleigh," she said; "you have been very good to me; you have made home very happy for me; you have been like the dearest mother to me. Good-night; may Heaven bless you!" Such unusual, such solemn words for her to use! The two fair faces touched each other. There was a warm, close embrace, then Lady Linleigh went away. When did she forget that parting, or the last look on that face? "I am jealous," said Lord Linleigh, parting the branches and looking at his daughter. "I wanted the kindest good-night. What has my daughter to say to me? It is my farewell, also. To-morrow you will be Lady Moray, and I shall be forgotten." Her heart was strangely touched and softened. "Not forgotten by me, papa," she said; "next to Earle, I shall always love you better than any one in the world." "_Next_ to Earle. Well, I must be content. That is enough. Good-night, my dear and only child; may Heaven send you a happy life." He, too, took away with him the memory of the sweet face and tender eyes; a memory never to die. He nodded to Earle. "I must be lenient," he said, "and give you young lovers ten minutes longer. I shall be in the library, Earle. Come and smoke a cigar with me. I have something to say to you." Mattie had gone to her room; Doris had promised to meet her there. The little bird, startled by the voices perhaps, had ceased to sing; and the lovers stood under the spreading tree alone. "Ten minutes out here with you, my darling," said Earle; "it is like two years in paradise. How kind they are to us, Doris; how happy we shall be!" But he had not many words. He laid the golden head on his breast, where he could see and kiss the fair face; he held the white hands in his; he could only say, over and over again, how happy they should be to-morrow. His wife to-morrow! Surely the moon had never shone upon a fairer picture or a lighter heart. The ten minutes were soon over. "Good-bye to the moonlight," said Earle, "to the tired flowers and shining stars, and the fair, sleeping world." He parted with her at the foot of the broad staircase; she was going to her room. "Good-night," said Earle, kissing the red lips; "good-night, and sweet dreams." But when he had gone about two steps away, she called him back again. She raised her arms and clasped them round his neck; she raised her face that he might kiss it again. "My darling Earle, my love Earle, my lover, my husband!" she said, with a passion of love in her face, "good-night."