keeper's daughter. There were even times when he shivered, as
one seized with sudden cold, at the thought.

The four days passed like a long, bright dream. It was a pretty
romance, but sadly misplaced--a pretty summer idyll. They were
but boy and girl. Dora met Ronald in the park, by the brook-
side, and in the green meadows where the white hawthorn grew.
They talked of but one thing, their love. Ronald never tired of
watching Dora's fair face and pretty ways; she never wearied of
telling him over and over again, in a hundred different ways, how
noble and kind he was, and how dearly she loved him.

Lord Earle wrote to say that he should be home on the Thursday
evening, and that they were bringing back a party of guests with
them.

"There will be no time to tell my father just at present," said
Ronald; "so, Dora, we must keep our secret. It will not do to
tell your father before I tell mine."

They arranged to keep the secret until Lord Earle should be alone
again. They were to meet twice every day--in the early morning,
while the dew lay on the grass, and in the evening, when the Hall
would be full of bustle and gayety.

Ronald felt guilty--he hardly knew how or why--when his father
commiserated him for the two lonely weeks he had spent. Lonely!
He had not felt them so; they had passed all too quickly for him.
How many destinies were settled in that short time!