Dora Thorne | Page 5

him as
sunlight compared to moonlight. The words faltered upon his
lips--instinctively he felt that pretty, blushing Dora had no place there.

Lord Earle looked relieved as he saw the doubt upon his son's face.
"You see it, Ronald," he cried. "Your idea of the 'fusion' of races is well
enough in theory, but it will not do brought into practice. I have been
patient with you--I have treated you, not as a school boy whose head is
half turned by his first love, but as a sensible man endowed with reason
and thought. Now give me a reward. Promise me here that you will
make a brave effort, give up all foolish thoughts of Dora Thorne, and
not see her again. Go abroad for a year or two--you will soon forget this
boyish folly, and bless the good sense that has saved you from it. Will
you promise me, Ronald?"
"I can not, father," he replied, "for I have promised Dora to make her
my wife. I can not break my word. You yourself could never counsel
that."
"In this case I can," said Lord Earle, eagerly. "That promise is not
binding, even in honor; the girl herself, if she has any reason, can not
and does not expect it."
"She believed me," said Ronald, simply. "Besides, I love her, father."
"Hush," replied Lord Earle, angrily, "I will listen to no more nonsense.
There is a limit to my patience. Once and for all, Ronald, I tell you that
I decidedly forbid any mention of such a marriage; it is degrading and
ridiculous. I forbid you to marry Dora Thorne; if you disobey me, you
must bear the penalty."
"And what would the penalty be?" asked the heir of Earlescourt, with a
coolness and calmness that irritated the father.
"One you would hardly wish to pay," replied the earl. "If, in spite of my
prayers, entreaties, and commands, you persist in marrying the girl, I
will never look upon your face again. My home shall be no longer your
home. You will lose my love, my esteem, and what perhaps those who
have lured you to ruin may value still more, my wealth. I can not
disinherit you; but, if you persist in this folly, I will not allow you one
farthing. You shall be to me as one dead until I die myself."

"I have three hundred a year," said Ronald, calmly; "that my godfather
left me."
Lord Earle's face now grew white with anger.
"Yes," he replied, "you have that; it would not find you in gloves and
cigars now. But, Ronald, you can not be serious, my boy. I have loved
you--I have been so proud of you--you can not mean to defy and wound
me."
His voice faltered, and his son looked up quickly, touched to the heart
by his father's emotion.
"Give me your consent, father," he cried, passionately. "You know I
love you, and I love Dora; I can not give up Dora."
"Enough," said Lord Earle; "words seem useless. You hear my final
resolve; I shall never change it--no after repentance, no entreaties, will
move me. Choose between your parents, your home, your position, and
the love of this fair, foolish girl, of whom in a few months you will be
tired and weary. Choose between us. I ask for no promises; you have
refused to give it. I appeal no more to your affection; I leave you to
decide for yourself. I might coerce and force you, but I will not do so.
Obey me, and I will make your happiness my study. Defy me, and
marry the girl then, in life, I will never look upon your face again.
Henceforth, I will have no son; you will not be worthy of the name.
There is no appeal. I leave you now to make your choice; this is my
final resolve."
Chapter II
The Earles, of Earlescourt, were one of the oldest families in England.
The "Barony of Earle" is mentioned in the early reigns of the Tudor
kings. They never appeared to have taken any great part either in
politics or warfare. The annals of the family told of simple, virtuous
lives; they contained, too, some few romantic incidents. Some of the
older barons had been brave soldiers; and there were stories of
hair-breadth escapes and great exploits by flood and field. Two or three

had taken to politics, and had suffered through their eagerness and zeal;
but, as a rule, the barons of Earle had been simple, kindly gentlemen,
contented to live at home upon their own estates, satisfied with the
duties they found there, careful in the alliances they contracted, and
equally careful in the bringing up and establishment of their children.
One and all they had been zealous cultivators of