"I promised to be Ronald's friend years ago," said Valentine,
calmly; "and now, mamma, you must allow me to keep my word. We
must visit his wife, and pay her every attention. To refuse
would imply a doubt of me, and that I could not endure."

"You shall do as you like, my dear," replied Lady Charteris; "the
young man's mother is my dearest friend, and for her sake we will
be kind to him."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was one of those Italian mornings when the fair face of Nature
seemed bathed in beauty. The air was full of the music of birds;
the waters of the Arno rolled languidly on; oleanders and myrtles
were in full bloom; birds sang as they sing only under the blue
sky of Italy.

It was not yet noon when Lady Charteris and her daughter reached
the little villa. Before they came to the house, Valentine
caught one glimpse of a pretty, pale face with large dark eyes.
Could that be pretty, smiling Dora? There were the shining rings
of dark hair; but where were the smiles Ronald had described?
That was not a happy face. Care and sorrow were in every line of
it.

They were told that Mr. Thorne was in his studio, and would see
them there. They had sent no card, and Ronald believed the "two
ladies" to have called on some business connected with pictures.
He started with surprise when Lady Charteris and Valentine