He laughed, still wondering. Could it be his Dora, the girl he had learned to love with such a fierce, mad love--the girl to recover whom he would have cheerfully laid down his wealth? He would not have believed it possible, if any other man had told him such a story; he would have said it could not be, that it must be clear at once whether she were the girl or not; yet he was puzzled. If a kingdom had been offered to him at that moment to say whether this was the girl he had loved or not, he could not have told. Still, he would try her, and try her until some incautious word, some half-uttered exclamation, some sudden look of fear would betray her. If none of these things happened, he would take further steps--go down to Brackenside, where he had first met her, and see what he could find out there. Then, as he listened to her, his faith was shaken again. Surely, if she dreaded recognition, she would be less natural, she would seek in some measure to disguise her voice, her laugh; but no one could be more frank or natural. Then a new idea came to him. If she were really Dora, as sooner or later he must discover, then he would compel her to marry him by threats; if she were not, he would win her love and marry her. Looking at the exquisite face, the proud eyes, all the mad, fierce love that he had felt for his lost Dora came over him. Then he was startled to find the laughing eyes looking at him with some curiosity. "I have heard of day dreams, Lord Vivianne," she said, "now I have seen a day dreamer. We have been through this chestnut grove twice, and you have not spoken; you have been building castles in the air." "I have been building castles of which I have dared to make you the queen," he replied. "I should like to be the queen of something more substantial than an air castle," she replied laughingly. "You do not know," he said, "that being with you, Lady Studleigh, is at once the highest happiness and the greatest misery." "I ought to be flattered at producing such a variety of emotion," she replied, with a laugh. "You would be serious--you would pity me if you knew all," he said. "Shall I pity you without knowing anything?" she replied. "No; but, Lady Studleigh, you are so pretty, so exactly like some one I--I loved and lost; you are the very counterpart of her--her true likeness. I have never seen anything so marvelous!" "How did you lose her?" she asked. "Did she die?" "No. To me it was almost worse than that. She, this lovely girl whom I so dearly loved, was beneath me in station, yet I worshiped her. She affected to love me--whether she did or not, Heaven only knows. But just as I had made up my mind to marry her, because I loved her so dearly I could not live without her, she disappeared--went away out of my life, and I have not seen her since." "What a strange story," she replied, indifferently, "and how strange that you should tell it to me, Lord Vivianne."