strawberries for the housekeeper."

"Goodbye, Dora," he said, "I shall see you again."

He held out his hand, and her little fingers trembled and
fluttered in his grasp. She looked so happy, yet so frightened,
so charming, yet so shy. He could have clasped her in his arms
at that moment, and have said he loved her; but Ronald was a
gentleman. He bowed over the little hand, and then relinquished
it. He watched the pretty, fairy figure, as the young girl
tripped away.

"Shame on all artificial training!" said Ronald to himself.
"What would our fine ladies give for such a face? Imagine beauty
without coquetry or affectation. The girl's heart is as pure as
a stainless lily; she never heard of 'a grand match' or a 'good
parli.' If Tennyson's Dora was like her, I do not wonder at
anything that happened."

Instead of thinking to himself that he had done a foolish thing
that bright morning, and that his plain duty was to forget all
about the girl, Ronald lighted his cigar, and began to dream of
the face that had charmed him.

Dora took the fruit to Mrs. Morton, and received no reprimand;
then she was sent home to the cottage, her work for the day
ended. She had to pass through the park. Was it the same road
she had trodden this morning? What caused the new and shining
glory that had fallen on every leaf and tree? The blue heavens
seemed to smile upon her; every flower, every song of the bright