Despite her calm dignity and serene manner, Valentine's heart beat high. She loved the gallant young heir--his honest, kindly nature had a great charm for her. She saw that the handsome face bending over the flowers was agitated and pale. Miss Charteris looked down at the lilies in her hand. He came nearer to her, and looked anxiously at her beautiful face. "I am not eloquent," said Ronald--"I have no great gift of speech; but, Miss Charteris, I should like to find some words that would reach your heart and dwell there." He wanted to tell her of Dora, to describe her sweet face with its dimples and blushes, her graceful manner, her timid, sensitive disposition. He wanted to make her love Dora, to help him to soften his mother's prejudices and his father's anger; no wonder his lips quivered and his voice faltered. "For some days past I have been longing to speak to you," continued Ronald; "now my courage almost fails me. Miss Charteris, say something that will give me confidence." She looked up at him, and any other man would have read the love in her face. "The simplest words you can use will always interest me," she said, gently. His face cleared, and he began: "You are kind and generous--" Then came an interruption--Sir Harry Laurence, with a lady, entered the conservatory. "This is refreshing," he said to Ronald. "I have been ten minutes trying to get here, the rooms are so full." Miss Charteris smiled in replying, wishing Sir Harry had waited ten minutes longer. "Promise me," said Ronald, detaining her, as Sir Harry passed on, "that you will give me one half hour tomorrow." "I will do so," replied she. "And you will listen to me, Miss Charteris?" he continued. "You will hear all I have to say?" Valentine made no reply; several other people came, some to admire the alcove filled with ferns which drooped from the wall by which she was standing, others to breathe the fragrant air. She could not speak without being overheard; but, with a charming smile, she took a beautiful lily from her bouquet and held it out to him. They then went back into the ball room. "He loves me," thought Valentine; and, as far as her calm, serene nature was capable of passionate delight, she felt it. "She will befriend me," thought Ronald; "but why did she give me this flower?" The most remote suspicion that Valentine had mistaken him--that she loved him--never crossed the mind of Ronald Earle. He was singularly free from vanity. Perhaps if he had a little more confidence in himself, the story of the Earles might have been different. Lady Charteris looked at her daughter's calm, proud face. She had noticed the little interview in the conservatory, and drew her own conclusions from it. Valentine's face confirmed them there was a delicate flush upon it, and a new light shone in the lustrous eyes. "You like Earlescourt?" said Lady Charteris to her daughter that evening, as they sat in her drawing room alone.