And when Earle Moray came she could talk to him about nothing but the intensity of the pleasure in store for her. A hundred times and more did Mark repent giving the invitation; he had no peace, no rest; even Earle himself could not persuade her to talk about anything except the grandeur of Downsbury Castle. "I am quite sorry I cannot go back to school for a few days," she said, "just to make all my school-fellows mad with jealousy." "Why should they be mad?" asked Mattie. "You do not know how much they talk about Downsbury Castle," she replied. "My dear, they call England a Christian land, and they pray for the conversion of all pagans and idolaters. There are no such idolaters as these same English, who worship rank, title, and wealth, as they never worshiped Heaven." "You are one of them, Doris," said Mattie. "Not altogether. Underneath my worship there is a vein of cynicism, but no one suspects it. If you want to learn a few lessons of that kind, Mattie, you should go to a fashionable boarding-school. I declare that I never heard any one quoted for being good or virtuous; it was always for being nobly born, rich, titled. I learned my lesson quickly, Mattie." "You did, indeed," was the brief reply, "and it is a lesson that I am sorry Earle's wife should ever have taken to heart." The only reply was a careless laugh. Doris did not even care to quarrel with her sister, so highly delighted was she at the prospect of going to the Castle. At length, to the intense delight and the relief of every one, Tuesday came, and it was time to go. Doris did not love nature. She had no appreciation of its beauties; but in after years she did remember how the sun had shone on this day, and how blithely the little birds had sung in the trees; how sweet was the perfume of the flowers and the fragrance of the hedges as they drove to Downsbury Castle. CHAPTER XX. "THEY TELL ME, CHILD, THAT YOU ARE REALLY PROMISED IN MARRIAGE." It was a busy morning at Downsbury Castle. Several visitors had called, and when Mark, with his beautiful _protegee_, arrived, they were shown into the library to await the duke's leisure. It was evident to Mark that they had been expected, for a tempting lunch was served to them; a lunch the servants called it--to Mark and Doris it seemed a most sumptuous dinner. Mark could not help watching the girl. He himself was strange, embarrassed, confused; the silver fork was heavy, the napkin confused him; she sat with the easy grace and dignity of a young queen, sipping the rosy wine from the richly cut glass, and looking quite at her ease over it. "You seem quite at home, Doris," said Mark, enviously. "I feel so," she replied. "I could live happily enough here; it is so easy to be good when one is rich." He looked at her in dull wonder, as he generally did when she puzzled him.