le distributed
the letters; there were three for Lord Airlie, one to Lady Earle from
Dora, two for Lionel, none for Lillian. Lord Earle held in his hand a
large common blue envelope.

"Miss Beatrice Earle," he said; "from Brookfield. What large writing!
The name was evidently intended to be seen."

Beatrice took the letter carelessly from him; the handwriting was quite
unknown to her; she knew no one in Brookfield, which was the nearest
post-town--it was probably some circular, some petition for charity,
she thought. Lord Airlie crossed the room to speak to her, and she
placed the letter carelessly in the pocket of her dress, and in a few
minutes forgot all about it.

Lord Airlie was waiting; the horses had been ordered for an early hour.
Beatrice ran upstairs to put on her riding habit, and never gave a
thought to the letter.

It was a pleasant ride; in the after-days she looked back upon it as
one of the brightest hours she had ever known. Lord Airlie told her
all about Lynnton, his beautiful home--a grand old castle, where every
room had a legend, every tree almost a tradition.

For he intended to work wonders; a new and magnificent wing should be
built, and on one room therein art, skill, and money should be lavished
without stint.

"Her boudoir" he said, "should be fit for a queen and for a fairy."

So they rode through the pleasant, sunlit air. A sudden thought struck
Beatrice.

"I wonder," she said, "what mamma will think? You must go to see her,
Hubert. She dreaded love and marriage so much. Poor mamma!"

She asked herself, with wondering love, what could have happened that
her mother should dread what she found so pleasant? Lord Airlie
entered warmly into all her plans and wishes. Near the grand suite of
rooms that were to be prepared for his beautiful young wife, Lord
Airlie spoke of rooms for Dora, if she would consent to live with them.

"I must write and tell mamma today," said Beatrice. "I should not like
her to hear it from any one but myself."

"Perhaps you will allow me to inclose a note," suggested Lord Airlie,
"asking her to tolerate me."

"I do not think that will be very difficult," laughingly replied his
companion.

Their ride was a long one. On their return Beatrice was slightly
tired, and went straight to her own room. She wrote a long letter to
Dora, who must have smiled at her description of Lord Airlie. He was
everything that was true, noble, chivalrous, and gran