reverence stole into Lord Earle's voice as he spoke:

"No fairer or more noble woman ever ruled at Earlescourt than
your mother, Ronald. She is the daughter of 'a hundred earls,'
high-bred, beautiful, and refined. Now, let me ask you, in the
name of common sense, do you wish to place my lodge keeper's
daughter by your mother's side? Admit that she is pretty and
good--is it in the fitting order of things that she should be
here?"

For the first time, in the heedless, fiery course of his love,
Ronald Earle paused. He looked at the serene and noble face
before him, the broad brow, the sweet, arched lips, the refined
patrician features, and there came to him the memory of another
face, charming, shy and blushing, with a rustic, graceful beauty
different from the one before him as sunlight compared to
moonlight. The words faltered upon his lips--instinctively he
felt that pretty, blushing Dora had no place there. Lord Earle
looked relieved as he saw the doubt upon his son's face.

"You see it, Ronald," he cried. "Your idea of the 'fusion' of
races is well enough in theory, but it will not do brought into
practice. I have been patient with you--I have treated you, not
as a school boy whose head is half turned by his first love, but
as a sensible man endowed with reason and thought. Now give me a
reward. Promise me here that you will make a brave effort, give
up all foolish thoughts of Dora Thorne, and not see her again.
Go abroad for a year or two--you will soon forget this boyish
folly, and bless the good sense that has saved you from it. Will
you promise me, Ronald?"