Dora Thorne - Charlotte M. Brame

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me to make her happy."

      Ronald Earle turned quickly to look at the speaker. He saw before him a young man, evidently a well-to-do farmer from his appearance, with a calm, kind face and clear and honest eyes; and he was asking for Dora—Dora who was to be his wife and live at Earlescourt. He could hardly control his impatience; and it seemed to him that evening would never come.

      Dinner was over at last. Lord Earle sat with Sir Harry Laurence over a bottle of claret, and Lady Earle was in the drawing room and had taken up her book. Ronald hastened to the favorite trysting place, the brook-side. Dora was there already, and he saw that her face was still wet with tears. She refused at first to tell him her sorrow. Then she whispered a pitiful little story, that made her lover resolve upon some rash deeds.

      Ralph Holt had been speaking to her father, and had asked her to marry him. She had said "No;" but her mother had wept, and her father had grown angry, and had said she should obey him.

      "He has a large farm," said Dora, with a bitter sigh. "He says I should live like a great lady, and have nothing to do. He would be kind to my father and mother; but I do not love him," she added.

      Clasping her tender little hands round Ronald's arm, "I do not love him," she sobbed; "and, Ronald, I do love you."

      He bent down and kissed her pretty, tear-bedewed face, all the chivalry of his nature aroused by her words.

      "You shall be my wife, Dora," he said, proudly, "and not his. This very evening I will tell my father, and ask his consent to our marriage. My mother is sure to love you—she is so kind and gracious to every one. Do not tremble, my darling; neither Ralph Holt nor any one else shall take you from me."

      She was soon comforted! There was no bound or limit to her faith in Ronald Earle.

      "Go home now," he said, "and tomorrow my father himself shall see you. I will teach that young farmer his place. No more tears, Dora—our troubles will end tonight."

      He went with her down the broad walk, and then returned to the Hall. He walked very proudly, with his gallant head erect, saying to himself that this was a free country and he could do what he liked; but for all that his heart beat loudly when he entered the drawing room and found Lord and Lady Earle. They looked up smilingly at him, all unconscious that their beloved son, the heir of Earlescourt, was there to ask permission to marry the lodge keeper's daughter.

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      Ronald 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 so beautiful, mother," he said, "that I am sure you would love her; she is as fair and sweet as she is modest and true. I met her in the gardens some weeks ago, and I have met her every day since."

      Lord and Lady Earle exchanged a glance of dismay which did not escape Ronald.

      "Why have you not told us of this before?" asked his father, angrily.

      "I asked her to be my wife while you were from home," replied Ronald. "She promised and I have only been waiting until our guests left us and you had more time."

      "Is it to see Dora Thorne that you have been out so constantly?" asked Lady Earle.

      "Yes, I could not let a day pass without seeing her," he replied; "it would be like a day without sunshine."

      "Does any one else know of this folly?" asked Lord Earle, angrily.

      "No, you may be quite sure, father, I should tell you before I told any one else," replied Ronald.

      They looked at him in silent dismay, vexed and amazed at what he had done—irritated at his utter folly, yet forced to admire his honor, his courage, his truth. Both felt that some sons would have carefully concealed such a love affair from them. They were proud of his candor and integrity, although deploring his folly.

      "Tell us all about it, Ronald," said Lady Earle.

      Without the least hesitation, Ronald told them every word; and despite their vexation, neither could help smiling—it was such a pretty story—a romance, all sunshine, smiles, tears, and flowers. Lord Earle's face cleared as he listened, and he laid one hand on his boy's shoulder.

      "Ronald," said he, "we shall disagree about your love; but remember, I do full justice to your truth. After all, the fault is my own. I might have known that a young fellow of your age, left all alone, was sure to get into mischief; you have done so. Say no more now; I clearly and distinctly refuse my consent. I appeal to your honor that you meet this young girl no more. We will talk of it another time."

      When the door closed behind him, Lord and Lady Earle looked at each other. The lady's face was pale and agitated.

      "Oh, Rupert," she said, "how brave and noble he is! Poor foolish boy! How proud he looked of his absurd mistake. We shall have trouble with him, I foresee!"

      "I do not think so," replied her husband. "Valentine Charteris will be here soon, and when Ronald sees her he will forget this rustic beauty."

      "It will be better not to thwart him," interrupted Lady Earle. "Let me manage the matter, Rupert. I will go down to the lodge tomorrow, and persuade them to send the girl away; and then we will take Ronald abroad, and he will forget all about it in a few months."

      All

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