She did blush then with gratified vanity and delight. It was something that she should have a handsome lord by her side, and that he should admire her. He did admire her, she knew; she could read it in his eyes and the flattering homage of his smile. Lord Charles Vivianne!--she wondered whether he was very rich, great, and celebrated. A lord!--oh, if she could only make a conquest of him! "I wish I dare ask to whom I have the honor of speaking." And then she raised her eyes with something of defiance, and said: "My name is Doris--Doris Brace." He said the name softly. "Doris! What a pretty name! Now that you have been kind enough to answer me one question, I should like to ask another--do you live near here?" "I live at Brackenside," she replied. "My father is a tenant of the duke's--he is a farmer." "Then I was right in my first surmise," he said. "Pray, what was that?" asked Doris. "I was watching you for some minutes before you saw me, and I guessed that you were a daughter of one of the duke's tenants." She raised her head with a magnificent pride and lofty disdain that almost annihilated him. "That is to say you thought I looked like a farmer's daughter. I thank you so much for the compliment." "Nay," he replied; "I thought that you looked like a queen." The dark eyes seemed to flash light and love into her own. It must be admitted that Lord Charles Vivianne thoroughly understood the art of winning women. "Doris!" he said; "I am struck with the name, because I do not remember that I ever met with any one who bore it before. How beautiful these flowers are! Will you give me one to keep in memory of this, our first meeting?" She tightened her hold on the scarlet and amber blossoms. He could not help noticing the beauty of the white hand that held them. "I think not," she replied. "In all the poems that I ever read something is done to win a flower before it is given." "I have done something to win it," he replied. She raised her beautiful eyes to his. "Have you? I did not know it. Will you tell me what it is?" "If you will promise me not to be angry," he whispered. She drew back from him and laughed. "How can I be angry?" she asked. "I beg of you to tell me what you have done to win a flower." His eyes seemed to light his face with love and passion. "I will tell you what I have done," he said. "In one minute I have laid at your feet, in silence, the homage that another could not have won in a whole year. Now will you give me a flower?" He took one of the scarlet blossoms, and in doing so his fingers touched hers. "I shall never part with it," he said. Then he heard the sound of the opening of the conservatory door, and he knew that Lady Estelle was coming. "Shall you be very angry with me," he asked, in a quiet whisper, "if you see me near your home." "No," she replied.