"You are not frightened at Earle, nor any one else, while you are with me, Dora?" He preferred this name to Doris, and the fanciful change pleased her greatly. "You need not be frightened, Dora," He continued. "You do not surely imagine that I am unable to take care of you?"
"I was not thinking of you, but of Earle," she said, simply. "I am always rather frightened when I think of him: he loved me so very much, and losing me will drive him mad."
An expression of impatience came over Lord Vivianne's face; he was passionately in love with the beautiful girl before him, but he had no intention to play the comforter in this the moment of his triumph.
"Say no more of Earle, Dora; if he annoys you, so much the worse for him. Now we will order breakfast, then take the ten o'clock express for London. I had even thought of crossing over to Calais to-day, if you are not too tired."
Her face brightened at the thought—Earle was already forgotten.
"That will be charming," she replied, all graver thoughts forgotten in the one great fact that she was going where she would be admired beyond all words.
Then, for the first time in her life, Doris sat down to a dainty and sumptuous breakfast. It was all novel to her, even this third-rate splendor of a Liverpool hotel. The noiseless, attentive servants—the respect and deference shown to them delighted her.
"After all," she thought to herself, "this is better than Brackenside."
Then Lord Vivianne turned to her with a smile.
"You are so sensible Dora," he said, "that I can talk to you quite at my ease; and that is a great treat after listening to the whims and caprices of the women of the fashionable world."