Dora Thorne [79]
thought you had half a dozen heirs and heiresses," said Lionel. "I remember some story of a romantic marriage. Today I hear of nothing but the beautiful Miss Earle."
"I have no son," interrupted Lord Earle, sadly. "I wrote to you last week, asking you to visit me. Have you any settled home?"
"No," replied the young man gayly. "My mother is at Cowes, and I have been staying with her."
"Where are you now?" asked Lord Earle.
"I am with Captain Poyntz, at his chambers; I promised to spend some days with him," replied Lionel, who began to look slightly bewildered.
"I must not ask you to break an engagement," said Lord Earle, "but will you dine with us this evening, and, when you leave Captain Poyntz, come to us?"
"I shall be very pleased," said Lionel, and the two gentlemen left Brookes's together.
"I must introduce you to Lady Earle and my daughters," said Ronald, as they walked along. "I have been so long absent from home and friends that it seems strange to claim relationship with any one."
"I could never understand your fancy for broiling in Africa, when you might have been happier at home," said Lionel.
"Did you not know? Have you not heard why I went abroad?" asked Lord Earle, gravely.
"No," replied Lionel. "Your father never invited me to Earlescourt after you left."
In a few words Lord Earle told his heir that he had married against his father's wish, and in consequence had never been pardoned.
"And you gave up everything," said Lionel Dacre--"home, friends, and position, for the love of a woman. She must have been well worth loving."
Lord Earle grew pale, as with sudden pain. Had Dora been so well worth loving? Had she been worth the heavy price?
"You are my heir," he said gravely--"one of my own race; before you enter our circle, Lionel, and take your place there, I must tell you that my wife and I parted years ago, never to meet again. Do not mention her to me--it pains me."
Lionel looked at the sad face; he could understand the shadows there now.
"I will not," he said. "She must have been--"
"Not one word more," interrupted Lord Earle. "In your thoughts lay no unjust blame on her. She left me of her own free will. My mother lives with me; she will be pleased to see you. Remember--seven sharp."
"I shall not forget," said Lionel, pained at the sad words and the sad voice.
As Lord Earle went home for the first time during the long years, a softer and more gentle thought of Dora came to him. "She must have been--" What--what did Lionel suspect of her? Could it be that, seeing their divided lives, people judged as his young kinsman had judged--that they thought Dora to blame--criminal, perhaps? And she had never in her whole life given one thought to any other than himself; nay, her very errors--the deed he could not pardon--sprung from her great affection for him. Poor Dora! The pretty, blushing face, with its sweet, shy eyes, and rosy lips, came before him--the artless, girlish love, the tender worship. If it had been anything else, any other fault, Ronald must have forgiven her in that hour. But his whole heart recoiled again as the hated scene rose before him.
"No," he said, "I can not forgive it. I can not forget it. Men shall respect Dora; no one must misjudge her; but I can not take her to my heart or my home again. In the hour of death," he murmured, "I will forgive her."
Chapter XXVI
Lady Earle thought her son looked graver and sadder that day than she had ever seen him. She had not the clew to his reflections; she did not know how he was haunted by the thought of the handsome, gallant young man who must be his heir--how he regretted that no son of his would ever succeed him--how proud he would have been of a son like Lionel. He had but two children, and they must some day leave Earlescourt for homes of their own. The grand old house, the fair domain, must all pass into the hands of strangers unless Lionel married one of the beautiful girls he loved so dearly.
Lady Helena understood a little of what was passing in
"I have no son," interrupted Lord Earle, sadly. "I wrote to you last week, asking you to visit me. Have you any settled home?"
"No," replied the young man gayly. "My mother is at Cowes, and I have been staying with her."
"Where are you now?" asked Lord Earle.
"I am with Captain Poyntz, at his chambers; I promised to spend some days with him," replied Lionel, who began to look slightly bewildered.
"I must not ask you to break an engagement," said Lord Earle, "but will you dine with us this evening, and, when you leave Captain Poyntz, come to us?"
"I shall be very pleased," said Lionel, and the two gentlemen left Brookes's together.
"I must introduce you to Lady Earle and my daughters," said Ronald, as they walked along. "I have been so long absent from home and friends that it seems strange to claim relationship with any one."
"I could never understand your fancy for broiling in Africa, when you might have been happier at home," said Lionel.
"Did you not know? Have you not heard why I went abroad?" asked Lord Earle, gravely.
"No," replied Lionel. "Your father never invited me to Earlescourt after you left."
In a few words Lord Earle told his heir that he had married against his father's wish, and in consequence had never been pardoned.
"And you gave up everything," said Lionel Dacre--"home, friends, and position, for the love of a woman. She must have been well worth loving."
Lord Earle grew pale, as with sudden pain. Had Dora been so well worth loving? Had she been worth the heavy price?
"You are my heir," he said gravely--"one of my own race; before you enter our circle, Lionel, and take your place there, I must tell you that my wife and I parted years ago, never to meet again. Do not mention her to me--it pains me."
Lionel looked at the sad face; he could understand the shadows there now.
"I will not," he said. "She must have been--"
"Not one word more," interrupted Lord Earle. "In your thoughts lay no unjust blame on her. She left me of her own free will. My mother lives with me; she will be pleased to see you. Remember--seven sharp."
"I shall not forget," said Lionel, pained at the sad words and the sad voice.
As Lord Earle went home for the first time during the long years, a softer and more gentle thought of Dora came to him. "She must have been--" What--what did Lionel suspect of her? Could it be that, seeing their divided lives, people judged as his young kinsman had judged--that they thought Dora to blame--criminal, perhaps? And she had never in her whole life given one thought to any other than himself; nay, her very errors--the deed he could not pardon--sprung from her great affection for him. Poor Dora! The pretty, blushing face, with its sweet, shy eyes, and rosy lips, came before him--the artless, girlish love, the tender worship. If it had been anything else, any other fault, Ronald must have forgiven her in that hour. But his whole heart recoiled again as the hated scene rose before him.
"No," he said, "I can not forgive it. I can not forget it. Men shall respect Dora; no one must misjudge her; but I can not take her to my heart or my home again. In the hour of death," he murmured, "I will forgive her."
Chapter XXVI
Lady Earle thought her son looked graver and sadder that day than she had ever seen him. She had not the clew to his reflections; she did not know how he was haunted by the thought of the handsome, gallant young man who must be his heir--how he regretted that no son of his would ever succeed him--how proud he would have been of a son like Lionel. He had but two children, and they must some day leave Earlescourt for homes of their own. The grand old house, the fair domain, must all pass into the hands of strangers unless Lionel married one of the beautiful girls he loved so dearly.
Lady Helena understood a little of what was passing in