"I will obey you implicitly," he replied. Then she raised her fair, proud face to his. "Mine is a strange story, is it not?" she asked. "Yes--truth is stranger than fiction," he replied. "And it is a shameful story, is it not?" she continued. "It is not a good one," he said, frankly. She smiled at the honest reply. "You do not know," she said, "how my heart has turned to you since Doris spoke of the 'gentleman and poet.' Aristocrat as I am, I do not think any man could have a grander title. To your honor, as a gentleman, I trust my secret--you will never betray it." He bowed low. "I would rather die," he said. "I believe you implicitly. This time, at least, my instinct has not failed me--I am safe in trusting you. Now, tell me, have you the faintest clew as to where Doris has gone?" "Not the smallest; she has gone abroad--that is all I know." "Then do you also go abroad. Remember that no money, no trouble, no toil must be spared--she must be found. Go first to France--to the cities most frequented by the English--then to Italy. For Heaven's sake, find her, and bring her back to Brackenside. When she is once here I can bear the rest. You will not fail me. Write as often as you can; and Heaven speed you." He felt his own hand clasped in hers; then she placed a roll of bank-notes in it. The next moment she was gone, and Earle sat there alone, breathless with surprise. CHAPTER XL. A CLEW AT LAST. "I feel very much," thought Earle, "as though I had been dreaming in one of the fairy circles. That proud, fair woman with such a story; and she Doris' mother. Doris, my golden-haired love, whom I have been loving, believing her to be some helpless waif or stray. Doris, belonging to the Studleighs and the proud Duke of Downsbury--what will she say? Great heavens! what will she say when she learns this?" Then the task before him might well have dismayed a braver man. He had to find her. The whole world lay before him, and he had to search all over it. Was she in Italy, Spain, or France? or had she even gone further away? He thought of the proud lady's words--"love has keen instincts; you will find her because you love her." He would certainly do his best, nor would he delay--that day should see the commencement of his labor. Then he began to think. Surely an ignorant, inexperienced girl could not have left home--have found herself a situation as governess without some one to help her. Who would that some one be? One of her old school-fellows? She had made no more recent acquaintances. He bethought himself of Mattie, always so quick, so bright, so intelligent, so ready to solve all difficulties. He would go to her. He went, and Mattie wondered at the unusual gravity of his face. "I have been thinking of Doris," he said, in answer to her mute, reproachful glance. "I wonder, Earle," she said, "when you will think of anything else?"