"No," replied Lady Helena; "she did not die, but her life was spoiled by her unhappy love."
"I should have died had it been my disappointment," said Beatrice; "the loss of what one loves must be more bitter than death."
Far and near nothing was spoken of but the ball at Earlescourt. Anything so brilliant or on so grand a scale had not been given in the county for many years.
Lord Earle felt proud of the arrangements as he looked through the ball room and saw the gorgeous array of flowers, tier upon tier of magnificent bloom, a sight well worth coming many miles to see. Here and there a marble statue stood amid the flowers. Little fountains of scented water rippled musically. He stopped for a few moments looking at the blossoms and thinking of his beautiful child.
"How she loves everything bright and gay!" he said to himself. "She will be queen of the ball tonight."
As Lord Earle stood alone in his library that evening, where he had been reading, stealing a quiet half hour, there came a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in," he said, and there stood before him something that he thought must be a vision.
"Grandmamma sent me," said Beatrice, blushing, "to see if I should do. You are to notice my diamonds, papa, and tell me if you approve of the setting."
As he looked at the radiant figure a sense of wonder stole over him. Could this magnificent beauty really be Dora's daughter—Dora who had stained her pretty hand with strawberry juice so many years ago?