ld Earle had plenty of courage--no young hero ever led a forlorn
hope with more bravery that he displayed in the interview with his
parents, which might have daunted a bolder man. As he approached, Lady
Earle raised her eyes with a languid smile.

"Out again, Ronald!" she said. "Sir Harry Laurence left his adieus for
you. I think the park possesses some peculiar fascination. Have you
been walking quickly? Your face is flushed."

He made no reply, but drew near to his mother; he bent over her and
raised her hand to his lips.

"I am come to tell you something," he said. "Father, will you listen
to me? I ask your permission to marry Dora Thorne, one of the fairest,
sweetest girls in England."

His voice never faltered, and the brave young face never quailed. Lord
Earle looked at him in utter amazement.

"To marry Dora Thorne!" he said. "And who, in the name of reason, is
Dora Thorne?"

"The lodge keeper's daughter," replied Ronald, stoutly. "I love her,
father, and she loves me."

He was somewhat disconcerted when Lord Earle, for all reply, broke into
an uncontrollable fit of laughter. He had expected a
storm--expostulations, perhaps, and reproaches--anything but this.

"You can not be serious, Ronald," said his mother, smiling.

"I am so much in earnest," he replied, "that I would give up all I have
in the world--my life itself, for Dora."

Then Lord Earle ceased laughing, and looked earnestly at the handsome,
flushed face.

"No," said he, "you can not be serious. You dare not ask your mother
to receive a servant's daughter as her own child. Your jest is in bad
taste, Ronald."

"It is no jest," he replied. "We Earles are always terribly in
earnest. I have promised to marry Dora Thorne, and, with your
permission, I intend to keep my word."

An angry flush rose to Lord Earle's face, but he controlled his
impatience.

"In any case," he replied, quietly, "you are too young to think of
marriage yet. If you had chosen the daughter of a duke, I should, for
the present, refuse."

"I shall be twenty in a few months," said Ronald, "and I am willing to
wait until then."

Lady Earle laid her white jeweled hand on her son's shoulder, and said,
gently:

"My dear Ronald, have you lost your senses? Tell me, who is Dora
Thorne?" She saw tears shining in his eyes; his brave young face
touched her heart. "Tell me," she continued, "who is she? Where have
you seen her? What is she like?"

"She is