"Have you anything to tell us?"
"Yes. Doris is not my daughter. She was left, being two months old or thereabouts, on my door-step, with a letter and a hundred pounds. Here is the letter for you to read. I have done my best for the girl, and I love her. I have tried to meet the wishes of her unknown mother. And of that mother and her history I know no more than you. If this makes a difference, now is the time to speak."
"It makes no difference," cried Earle; "only, if possible, I shall love her more than ever, she having no kith or kin."
"I saw she did not look in the least like any of you," said Mrs. Moray, thoughtfully.
Mark smiled.
"Yes, she is fine china, we are delf. I have never hinted this thing to Doris, and whatever you decide, I wish the secret rigidly kept, as I have kept it."
"What is there to decide!" cried Earle. "We are betrothed."
"Your mother may think differently," said Mark.
"Of course I am very sorry that the girl has no name or position," said Mrs. Moray.
Earle flushed.