"You may be sure I sha'n't touch it," laughed Earle. "A hundred pounds! That is kind of him; but it is not much. I could spend it in one hour in London." "Spend it in an hour. I'm glad you are not fond of money." "I _am_ fond of it. Money is the salt and essence of life." "And you marry a man who has almost none?" "But a man who can, who must, make a great deal." "Suppose I should not?" She looked at him in alarm. "Suppose you should not? I tell you I would rather die than be mean, and plain, and poor, all my life." "Dear child, you do not understand. You have exaggerated ideas. You shall never be left to suffer. Cheer up. I will make money, and you, my little idol, shall spend it!" "That is fair," cried Doris, joyously. "I'll buy no end of things." Gregory Leslie finished his picture of "Innocence," and took it away, knowing it should grace the walls of the Academy the next May. At Brackenside he had found an artistic ideal, and reached the acme of his art life. Doris wondered a little, the while she had inspired the artist, she had not conquered the man. Earle and Gregory made a compact of friendship and parted--to meet in pain. Earle entered into a very happy winter. As Doris had inspired the artist so she inspired the poet; and Earle sang as he had never sung before. A little volume of his verses found a publisher, and public approval, and though the recompense did not at all meet the idea of Doris, yet she told herself that fame led the way to fortune. Indulged by Mark and Patty, and waited on by Mattie, while Earle was in daily raptures over her charms, as bride-elect Doris managed to pass the winter at the farm with some content. Mark had hired for her a good piano, she had a store of French novels, and she sedulously refused to have any steps taken in the matter of wedding paraphernalia. And yet, as the weeks crept by, Doris began to be weary of lover and friends and country home, and her longing for the gay world and all its glories filled her fantastic heart. "Oh, why does not some lord with a coach and six come along and carry me off and marry me?" she cried one day as she sat in the window, lazily watching the falling snow. "Surely you would not give up Earle for any lord!" cried Mattie. "Wouldn't I! I only hope for his sake I'd not be tempted. If the lord had money enough, and jewels enough, and memorial castles enough I'm afraid, Mattie, you'd be left to console Earle." "Child, don't talk in that reckless way," said Mrs. Brace. "I'm only telling the truth. I find in myself a natural affinity for lords," said Doris, and Mrs. Brace sighed and flushed. Well, the winter passed, and the love-making of Earle was becoming an old story, and farm life a weariness to the flesh, but still Doris hid her vexations and unrest in her heart. The hawthorn bloomed, when Mark came in one day, crying cheerily: