It was the prettiest picture in the world to see the color return to the sweet face. Ronald bent his head, and heard the sweet whisper. "You shall never rue your trust, Dora," he said, proudly; but she interrupted him. "What will Lord Earle say?" she asked; and again Ronald was startled by that question. "My father can say nothing," he replied. "I am old enough to please myself, and this is a free country. I shall introduce you to him, Dora, and tell him you have promised to be my wife. No more tears, love. There is nothing but happiness before us." And so he believed. He could think of nothing, care for nothing but Dora--her pretty face, her artless, simple ways, her undisguised love for him. There was but one excuse. He was young, and it was his first love; yet despite his happiness, his pride, his independence, he did often wonder in what words he should tell his father that he had promised to marry the lodge keeper's daughter. There were even times when he shivered, as one seized with sudden cold, at the thought. The four days passed like a long, bright dream. It was a pretty romance, but sadly misplaced--a pretty summer idyll. They were but boy and girl. Dora met Ronald in the park, by the brook-side, and in the green meadows where the white hawthorn grew. They talked of but one thing, their love. Ronald never tired of watching Dora's fair face and pretty ways; she never wearied of telling him over and over again, in a hundred different ways, how noble and kind he was, and how dearly she loved him. Lord Earle wrote to say that he should be home on the Thursday evening, and that they were bringing back a party of guests with them. "There will be no time to tell my father just at present," said Ronald; "so, Dora, we must keep our secret. It will not do to tell your father before I tell mine." They arranged to keep the secret until Lord Earle should be alone again. They were to meet twice every day--in the early morning, while the dew lay on the grass, and in the evening, when the Hall would be full of bustle and gayety. Ronald felt guilty--he hardly knew how or why--when his father commiserated him for the two lonely weeks he had spent. Lonely! He had not felt them so; they had passed all too quickly for him. How many destinies were settled in that short time! There was little time for telling his secret to Lord Earle. The few guests who had returned to Earlescourt were men of note, and their host devoted himself to their entertainment. Lady Earle saw some great change in her son. She fancied that he spent a great deal of time out of doors. She asked him about it, wondering if he had taken to studying botany, for late and early he never tired of rambling in the park. She wondered again at the flush that crimsoned his face; but the time was coming when she would understand it all.