d see him no more. The
pretty, dimpled face grew pale, and a dark shadow came into the clear
eyes.

"Dora," cried Ronald, "why do you look so frightened? What is it?"

She gave him no answer, but turned away. He caught her hands in his
own.

"Are you grieved that I am going away for one whole day?" he asked.
But she looked so piteous and so startled that he waited for no reply.
"I shall continue to see you," he resumed. "I could not let any day
pass without that."

"And afterward," she said, simply, raising her eyes to his full of
tears.

Then Ronald paused abruptly--he had never given one thought to the
"afterward." Why, of course strawberries would not grow forever--it
would not always be summer. Lord Earle would soon be back again, and
then he must go abroad. Where would Dora be then? He did not like the
thought--it perplexed him. Short as was the time he had known her,
Dora had, in some mysterious way, grown to be a part of himself. He
could not think of a day wherein he should not see her blushing, pretty
face, and hear the music of her words. He was startled, and clasped
her little hands more tightly within his own.

"You would not like to lose me, Dora?" he said, gently.

"No," she replied; and then tears fell from her dark eyes.

Poor Ronald! Had he been wise, he would have flown then; but he bent
his head over her, and kissed the tears away. The pretty rounded
cheek, so soft and child-like, he kissed again, and then clasped the
slight girlish figure in his arms.

"Do not shed another tear, Dora," he whispered; "we will not lose each
other. I love you, and you shall be my wife."

One minute before he spoke the idea had not even crossed his mind; it
seemed to him afterward that another voice had spoken by his lips.

"Your wife!" she cried, looking at him in some alarm. "Ah, no! You are
very kind and good, but that could never be."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because you are so far above me," replied the girl. "I and mine are
servants and dependents of yours. We are not equal; I must learn to
forget you," sobbed Dora, "and break my own heart!"

She could not have touched Ronald more deeply; in a moment he had
poured forth a torrent of words that amazed her. Fraternity and
equality, caste and folly, his mission and belief, his love and
devotion, were all mingled in one torrent of eloquence that simply
alarmed her.

"Never say that again, Dora," he continued, his fair, boyish face