lmly, too, but her dreams were different from Ronald's. She
thought of the time when she would be mistress of that fair domain, and
the wife of its brave young lord. She loved him well. No one had ever
pleased her as he had--no one would ever charm her again. Valentine
had made the grand mistake of her life.

The morrow so eagerly looked for was a fair, bright day. The sun shone
warm and bright, the air was soft and fragrant, the sky blue and
cloudless. Lady Charteris did not leave her room for breakfast, and
Valentine remained with her mother.

When breakfast was ended, Ronald lingered about, hoping to see
Valentine. He had not waited long before he saw the glimmer of her
white dress and blue ribbons. He met her in the hall.

"Will you come out into the gardens, Miss Charteris?" he asked. "The
morning is so beautiful, and you promised me one half hour. Do not take
that book with you. I shall want all your attention for I have a story
to tell you."

He walked by her side through the pleasure gardens where the lake
gleamed in the sunshine, the water lilies sleeping on its quiet bosom;
through the fragrant flower beds where the bees hummed and the
butterflies made love to the fairest blossoms.

"Let us go on to the park," said Valentine; "the sun is too warm here."

"I know a little spot just fitted for a fairy bower," said Ronald.
"Let me show it to you. I can tell my story better there."

They went through the broad gates of the park, across which the
checkered sunbeams fell, where the deer browsed and king-cups and tall
foxgloves grew--on to the brook side where Dora had rested so short a
time since to think of her new-found happiness.

The pale primroses had all died away, the violets were gone; but in
their place the deep green bank was covered with other flowers of
bright and sunny hue. The shade of tall trees covered the bank, the
little brook sang merrily, and birds chimed in with the rippling water;
the summer air was filled with the faint, sweet summer music.

"It is a pretty spot," said Miss Charteris.

The green grass seemed to dance in the breeze, and Ronald made
something like a throne amid it.

"You shall be queen, and I your suppliant," he said. "You promise to
listen; I will tell you my story."

They sat a few minutes in deep silence, broken only by the singing
brook and the music of the birds; a solemn hush seemed to have fallen
on them, while the leaves rustled in the wind.