"It was terrible to send us a child in that way," cried Patty. "We cannot tell what we should do with her." "I think we can," said Mark. "We were told to do as by our own. We would give Mattie to Earle, if they both wished it. We can give Doris. No doubt her mother will be glad to know that she is safe in the care of a husband." "But if they come to reclaim her, as I have expected?" "They gave her to us, unasked, and must abide by our decision. Besides, here is a year's delay, and the engagement no secret. If the unknown mother watches her child, let her make known her rights and interfere." "And the letter said she was of noble blood." "Earle Moray is a good man, a gentleman, a scholar." "But what would he think of this secret? They believe Doris to be ours, the same as Mattie." "There's the rub," said Mark; "but here, to be honest, we must break silence. Not to Doris, but to Earle. We must tell Earle and his mother all the truth that we know. Married life goes ill, Patty, begun in mystery." "Possibly Mrs. Moray will not consent." "I think it will make no difference. If it does, we have done our duty, and that is all our trouble. I believe her mother is some poor timid soul, secretly married, and perhaps now dead, and the father also." Patty sighed, and a look of trouble and conviction was in her face. She had thoughts about Doris that she did not tell even to Mark. "Love and trouble always come together," sighed Patty. "Doris has been a great help to us, as well as a great care," said Mark. "Her money saved us from ruin, and put us on our feet. I have done honestly by her, and have not forgotten that she has helped us. But I admit she fills me with anxiety, and is a strange element in our home. Once she is well married and gone, I think we shall be very happy together. I'll save this year's hundred pounds to give her a good outfit, and give her next year's hundred for a wedding present." "She has had _all_ the money since she was twelve," said Patty. "True, but for the first twelve years I did not spend the half of it on her." Next day Earle brought his mother, and proudly presented Doris to her. Mrs. Moray, making allowances for the enthusiasm of a lover, had expected to find a rosy, pretty country girl. She saw a dainty, high-bred beauty, of the most exquisite and aristocratic type. She looked in wonder at Doris, then helplessly at Mark and Patty. "How little your daughter resembles you!" she cried. Patty blushed, honest Mark studied the carpet pattern, the pretty lips of Doris curled scornfully. Mrs. Moray suspected a mystery. Mark Brace spoke up: "I'd like a word with you and your son in the garden, ma'am." Doris watched the three angrily from the window. "What is father saying that I may not hear? See how oddly Mrs. Moray looks, and Earle too! What is he saying?" "Perhaps that he has no fortune to give you," hinted Patty. "My face is my fortune," cried Doris, pettishly.