"You do not think, then, that it is anything serious, Mattie? I am so glad. One so gay and bright as Doris naturally tires of a quiet home."
"I do not think home so very quiet. You are always there, and she ought to find her happiness in your society."
"I am sure she does," he replied, hastily, unable to cast even the shadow of blame on her; "but you see, dear, I love her so that a shadow on her fair face drives me mad."
"You worship her, Earle," said Mattie, gravely; "and in this weary world man or woman who commits that sin of idolatry is certain to suffer for it."
"What can I do to win her smiles again?" asked the young lover.
"I do not know, Earle. I wish your happiness did not depend so entirely on her smiles."
"It is too late to remedy that," replied Earle.
As he spoke he saw in the distance the glimmer of her dress between the trees.
"There she is!" he cried. "I will go to her."
His face flushed crimson, and Mattie watched him sadly as he hastened after her sister.