"Do not look anywhere," said Mark; "the longer you look for her the less likely you are to find her. Girls are so uncertain in their ways. Sit down and drink a glass of cider, she will come soon enough then. It seems to me," continued the honest farmer, "that she is having a game of hide-and-seek with you." Earle thought that very probable. He drank the foaming cider, but he would not sit down. "I must find her," he said. "If it be her sweet will and pleasure that I should look for her, I will do so." The farmer laughed, Mrs. Brace felt sorry for him, Mattie was indignant, and Earle went through the pretty garden and all the little nooks she loved best. He never glanced under the shade of a spreading tree, or turned aside the dense green foliage, without expecting that the bright face would turn to him with a smile; he never looked where the ferns grew most thickly, and the tall grass waved in the wind, without expecting the laughing eyes to meet him, and the gay, clear voice to ring out in sunshiny laughter. No fear, no doubt, no suspicion came to him. It was a bright morning, fair and sweet enough in itself to inspire any desire of frolic, and she liked to tease him. She had hidden away--hidden among the flowers; but he would find her, and when he did find her, he would imprison the sweet, white hands in his--he would kiss the laughing lips and beautiful face--he would take a lover's revenge for the jest she had played him. He looked until he was tired; he called aloud, over and over again, "Doris!" until it seemed to him that the birds took up the refrain and chanted "Doris!" He gave it up; he could not find her; he must own himself conquered; and, tired with the sultry heat and his hard morning's work, he walked back to the farm. It seemed to him, as he drew near, that there was a strange stillness over the place. He looked in vain for Mark's honest face. The porch, too, was empty, although the fruit still stood upon the table. "Where are they all?" thought Earle. "What a strange morning this has been!" He looked through the rose-wreathed window of the little sitting-room, and there he saw a group that filled his very heart with dismay. Mark, Mrs. Brace, and Mattie, all standing close together, and bending over an open letter. He watched them in silence, fighting, with a terrible courage, with this first foreboding--a chill, stern presentiment of coming evil that, man as he was, robbed him of his strength and clutched at his heart with an iron hand. Then he heard a sob from Mrs. Brace. He saw the farmer clinch his strong hand, while he cried out: "In Heaven's name, who is to tell Earle? I cannot." "You must!" said Mrs. Brace. But Mark drew back pale and trembling. "I tell you, wife," he said, "I love the boy so well that I could sooner take him out in the sunshine and plunge a dagger in his heart than tell him this." A great calm seemed to come over Earle as he heard.