Dora Thorne | Page 8

saying that after the hard study
of the few last months he longed for quiet and rest.
Knowing that every attention would be paid to his son's comfort, Lord
Earle thought but little of the matter. In after years he bitterly regretted
that he had not insisted upon his son's going to Greenoke. So it
happened that Ronald Earle, his college career ended, his future lying
like a bright, unruffled dream before him, had two weeks to spend
alone in Earlescourt.
The first day was pleasant enough. Ronald went to see the horses,
inspected the kennels, gladdened the gamekeeper's heart by his keen
appreciation of good sport, rowed on the lake, played a solitary game at
billiards, dined in great state, read three chapters or "Mill on
Liberalism," four of a sensational novel, and fell asleep satisfied with
that day, but rather at a loss to know what he should do on the next.
It was a beautiful June day; no cloud was in the smiling heavens, the
sun shone bright, and Nature looked so fair and tempting that it was
impossible to remain indoors. Out in the gardens the summer air
seemed to thrill with the song of the birds. Butterflies spread their
bright wings and coquetted with the fragrant blossoms; busy humming
bees buried themselves in the white cups of the lily and the crimson
heart of the rose.

Ronald wandered through the gardens; the delicate golden laburnum
blossoms fell at his feet, and he sat down beneath a large acacia. The
sun was warm, and Ronald thought a dish of strawberries would be
very acceptable. He debated within himself for some time whether he
should return to the house and order them, or walk down to the fruit
garden and gather them for himself.
What impulse was it that sent him on that fair June morning, when all
Nature sung of love and happiness, to the spot where he met his fate?
Chapter III
The strawberry gardens at Earlescourt were very extensive. Far down
among the green beds Ronald Earle saw a young girl kneeling,
gathering the ripe fruit, which she placed in a large basket lined with
leaves, and he went down to her.
"I should like a few of those strawberries," he said, gently, and she
raised to his a face he never forgot. Involuntarily he raised his hat, in
homage to her youth and her shy, sweet beauty. "For whom are you
gathering these?" he asked, wondering who she was, and whence she
came.
In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest and most
graceful of courtesies.
"They are for the housekeeper, sir," she replied; and her voice was
musical and clear as a silver bell.
"Then may I ask who you are?" continued Ronald.
"I am Dora Thorne," she replied, "the lodge keeper's daughter."
"How is it I have never seen you before?" he asked.
"Because I have lived always with my aunt, at Dale," she replied. "I
only came home last year."

"I see," said Ronald. "Will you give me some of those strawberries?" he
asked. "They look so ripe and tempting."
He sat down on one of the garden chairs and watched her. The pretty
white fingers looked so fair, contrasted with the crimson fruit and green
leaves. Deftly and quickly she contrived a small basket of leaves, and
filled it with fruit. She brought it to him, and then for the first time
Ronald saw her clearly, and that one glance was fatal to him.
She was no calm, grand beauty. She had a shy, sweet, blushing face,
resembling nothing so much as a rosebud, with fresh, ripe lips; pretty
little teeth, which gleamed like white jewels, large dark eyes, bright as
stars, and veiled by long lashes; dark hair, soft and shining. She was
indeed so fair, so modest and graceful, that Ronald Earle was charmed.
"It must be because you gathered them that they are so nice," he said,
taking the little basket from her hands. "Rest awhile, Dora--you must
be tired with this hot sun shining full upon you. Sit here under the
shade of this apple tree."
He watched the crimson blushes that dyed her fair young face. She
never once raised her dark eyes to his. He had seen beautiful and stately
ladies, but none so coy or bewitching as this pretty maiden. The more
he looked at her the more he admired her. She had no delicate patrician
loveliness, no refined grace; but for glowing, shy, fresh beauty, who
could equal her?
So the young heir of Earlescourt sat, pretending to enjoy the
strawberries, but in reality engrossed by the charming figure before him.
She neither stirred nor spoke. Under the boughs of the apple tree, with
the sunbeams falling upon her,