"A poet and a gentleman!" repeated the duchess. "That is high praise." "He deserves it, your grace. He has written a book--I cannot say whether it has been read among the great people; but, with such as us, the verses are on the lips of every man, woman and child." "What is the poet's name?" asked Lady Estelle. "Earle Moray, my lady. He lives near us, and his father was a clergyman. His mother is a very quiet, grave lady. She always thought that Doris was my daughter, and when she heard the truth she was quite unwilling for her son to make such a marriage. But he talked her over." Lady Estelle used her fan vigorously; her face had suddenly grown burning red. "They are very much attached to each other," continued Mark. "I never saw anything like the way in which he worships her. I am sure that if he lost her he would go mad." "Let us hope not," said the duchess, with a smile. "Going mad is a very serious matter." "Then," said the low, sweet voice of Lady Estelle, "your _protegee_ is provided for, Mr. Brace? Her future is safe?" "I hope so, my lady," said cautious Mark. "But as the wedding does not take place for a year, much may happen in that time." "We will hope it will all end happily," said her grace, kindly. Then Mark understood that his interview had ended. Lady Estelle murmured a careless adieu: the duchess spoke kindly of Patty, and Mark went home that night a proud and happy man. He was greeted with innumerable questions; his wife seemed to think that Mark had been the principal person present: that except for the fact of his presence, the dinner-party would have been insignificant. Doris positively bewildered him with questions. Mrs. Brace and Mattie sat with awe and wonder on their faces. "I cannot answer so many questions, Doris," said Mark, at last. "I tell you what--I am going to the Castle again on Tuesday to renew my lease; will you go with me?" Her beautiful face flushed crimson. "Will I? Of course I will," Doris said. "What would they say?" asked Mattie. "They would not say anything," said Mark. "I should tell them that my daughter Doris had a great fancy for seeing the inside of a castle; and you may take my word they will be kind enough." "Let Mattie go," suggested Mrs. Brace. But Mattie shrank back. "Oh, no!" she said, "I should not care for it, I would rather not." "And I would give a year of my life," said Doris. "You need not give anything," said Mark. "Dress yourself tidily, not finely," he added, with a touch of natural shrewdness. "One does not require finery in going to see a duchess." "Shall I see the duchess?" asked Doris, opening her eyes wide with surprise. Then Mark Brace perceived his error. "I am a poor hand at keeping a secret," he thought. "If you go to the Castle," he replied, "it is very probable you will see the Duchess of Downsbury." "I shall not be able to sleep from this moment till then," cried Doris.