But the very thought of it brought tears again. She looked so
pretty, so bewildered between sorrow and joy, so dazzled by
happiness, and yet so piteously uncertain, that Ronald was more
charmed than ever.

"My darling Dora," he said, "you do love me. Your eyes speak, if
your lips do not tell me. Will you be my wife? I can not live
without you."

It was the prettiest picture in the world to see the color return
to the sweet face. Ronald bent his head, and heard the sweet
whisper.

"You shall never rue your trust, Dora," he said, proudly; but she
interrupted him.

"What will Lord Earle say?" she asked; and again Ronald was
startled by that question.

"My father can say nothing," he replied. "I am old enough to
please myself, and this is a free country. I shall introduce you
to him, Dora, and tell him you have promised to be my wife. No
more tears, love. There is nothing but happiness before us."

And so he believed. He could think of nothing, care for nothing
but Dora--her pretty face, her artless, simple ways, her
undisguised love for him. There was but one excuse. He was
young, and it was his first love; yet despite his happiness, his
pride, his independence, he did often wonder in what words he
should tell his father that he had promised to marry the lodge