enses."

"I could not do that, my lady," said Stephen, refusing to take the
money. "I can not sell poor Dora's love."

Then Lady Earle held out her delicate white hand, and the man bowed low
over it. Before the sun set that evening, Stephen Thorne had taken
Dora to Eastham, where she was to remain until Ronald had gone abroad.

For a few days it seemed as though the storm had blown over. There was
one angry interview between father and son, when Ronald declared that
sending Dora away was a breach of faith, and that he would find her out
and marry her how and when he could. Lord Earle thought his words were
but the wild folly of a boy deprived of a much-desired toy. He did not
give them serious heed.

The story of Earlescourt might have been different, had not Ronald,
while still amazed and irritated by his father's cool contempt,
encountered Ralph Holt. They met at the gate leading from the fields
to the high road; it was closed between them, and neither could make
way.

"I have a little account to settle with you, my young lordling," said
Ralph, angrily. "Doves never mate with eagles; if you want to marry,
choose one of your own class, and leave Dora Thorne to me."

"Dora Thorne is mine," said Ronald, haughtily.

"She will never be," was the quick reply. "See, young master, I have
loved Dora since she was a--a pretty, bright-eyed child. Her father
lived near my father's farm then. I have cared for her all my life--I
do not know that I have ever looked twice at another woman's face. Do
not step in between me and my love. The world is wide, and you can
choose where you will--do not rob me of Dora Thorne."

There was a mournful dignity in the man's face that touched Ronald.

"I am sorry for you," he said, "if you love Dora; for she will be my
wife."

"Never!" cried Ralph. "Since you will not listen to fair words, I defy
you. I will go to Eastham and never leave Dora again until she will be
my own."

High, angry words passed between them, but Ralph in his passion had
told the secret Ronald had longed to know--Dora was at Eastham.

It was a sad story and yet no rare one. Love and jealousy robbed the
boy of his better sense; duty and honor were forgotten. Under pretense
of visiting one of his college friends, Ronald went to Eastham. Lord
and Lady Earle saw him depart without any apprehension; they never
suspected that he knew where Dora was.

It was a sad story, and bitter sorrow came from it. W