Earle thought no more of the stranger who had passed them on the high-road--it was nothing very unusual--strangers passed them continually. But Doris thought of nothing else. She had begun the walk in the best of spirits, but now she hardly spoke. Earle could not imagine what change had passed over the summer sky of his love. She was impatient, complained of being tired, turned to go home. He was growing accustomed to her caprices now; and though they pained him, as the unkindness of those we love is certain to pain us, still he bore it patiently; he used to think that as she was young the quiet home life tired her. It would be all right when he could take her away, where she would be happy and bright; still the pain was very keen, so keen that it blanched his face, and made his lips tremble. If she could make him so happy, why could he not suffice for her? Doris wanted to be alone and to think over what had happened. Lord Vivianne had been there in the hope of seeing her, that was certain. If he had been once, it was just possible that he might come again. She resolved on the morrow to be out alone, no matter what Earle said. Chance favored her. Earle came over quite early, and remained but a short time. His mother wished him to go over to Quainton, and he would not return till evening. "So that I shall not see much of you, my beautiful Doris," he said. She was so relieved to hear it that it made her more than usually kind to him. She looked up to him with a sunny smile; she held her bright face for him to kiss; she was so kind to him that all his fears died away, and he rejoiced in the sunshine of his perfect love. She was kind to him, gentle, caressing, loving, because she was going to deceive him. Women are so constituted, they can veil the greatest cruelty with a pretense of the greatest affection. There was no fear in the heart of her young lover, while she knew that, if the opportunity were given to her, she would assuredly perjure herself. Earle went away completely happy, and when he was gone Doris breathed freely. She went to the dairy where her mother and sister were busy at work. She looked for a minute with great contempt on the cans of rich milk and cream. Mattie was deeply engaged in the mysteries of curds and whey. "Mother," said Doris, "you do not want me?" "Well, for the matter of that, it is not much use wanting you, my dear; you do not like work." "Indeed I do not. It is such a pleasant morning, I thought of going through Thorpe Woods." "Very well. Though mind, Doris, it is not quite right for you to go out amusing yourself while Mattie works so hard." "But if I stay at home I shall not work, so I am better out of the way." Mrs. Brace knew it was false reasoning; but what was the use of saying so; she had long since ceased arguing with Doris. "Do not expect me back very early. I may go on to see Lottie Granger," said Doris.