"Work!" she replied. "A man may work for a lifetime and yet never earn sufficient to build a house, much less a castle. Look at my father, how hard he works, yet he is not rich, and never will be."
"But my work is different from his, Doris. There have been poets who have made large fortunes."
"And there have been poets who starved in a garret," she replied.
"But I have not that intention," cried Earle, with a look of power. "I will win wealth for you—the thought of you gives me skill, nerve, and courage for anything. Have patience, my darling!"
"Oh, Earle, it was so beautiful!" she cried, pitilessly interrupting him; "and that Lady Estelle wore such a beautiful dress! She has a strange way of moving—it produces a strange effect—so slowly and so gracefully, as though she were moving to the rhythm of some hidden music. And those rooms—I can never forget them! To think that people should live and move in the midst of such luxury!"
He raised the white hand to his lip.
"They are not all happy, Doris. Oh, believe me, darling! money, luxury, magnificence cannot bring happiness. Sooner or later one wearies of them."
"I never should," she answered, gently. "If I could live twenty lives, instead of one, I should never weary. I should like every hour of each of them to be filled with pleasure."
"That is because you have had so little," he said, wistfully. "You shall have a bright future."
Just at that moment Mattie Brace entered the room, and Doris looked at her with a smile.