"I call that something like life," she continued—"luxury and gayety. I would sooner never have been born at all than be condemned to spend all my life here."
"But it will not be spent here, my darling; it will be spent with me."
His face glowed; the rapture of content came over it. There was no response in hers.
"I shall change Brackenside for Lindenholm," she said. "I cannot see that it will make much difference. It is only exchanging one farm-house for another."
"But I who love you am in the other," he said, gently. "Oh, Doris, you pain me so greatly! I know that you do not mean what you say, but you wound me to death."
Again she hardly heard him.
"I should very much like to know," Doris continued, "if it is fair to place me, with a keen, passionate longing for life, gayety, and pleasure, here, where I have none of the three."
"None of the three!" he repeated, sadly, "and I find heaven with you." He knelt down in front of her, where he could see her face, and he drew it gently down to his own. "I will not believe you mean this, my darling; if I did believe it I should go mad. Your beauty-loving, artistic nature has been aroused by what you have seen, and it makes you slightly discontented with us all. You ought to reign in a palace, my darling, because you are so beautiful and brilliant; but the palace shall be of my winning. You shall have every luxury that you have seen and envied."
"When?" she asked, briefly, bringing his castle in the air suddenly to the ground.
"Soon, my darling—you do not know how hard I am working—soon as I can possibly accomplish it."