was something in her listless manner that touched both ladies
more than any words could have done. A deep flush crimsoned her
face when Ronald and his guests stood before her. She rose, not
ungracefully; her eyelids drooped in their old shy manner. As
Ronald introduced his wife, something in the girl's wistful face
went straight to Lady Charteris's heart. She spoke not a word,
but folded Dora in her arms and kissed her as her own mother
might have done.

"You must learn to love us," said Valentine; "we are your
husband's dearest friends."

Poor Dora had no graceful words ready; her heart was full of
gratitude, but she knew not how to express it. Ronald looked at
her anxiously, and she caught his glance.

"Now," thought Dora, "he will not be pleased." She tried to say
something of her pleasure in seeing them, but the words were so
stiff and ungracious that Ronald hastened to interrupt them.

A luncheon of fruit and wine was brought out into the garden, and
they talked merrily--of Earlescourt and the dear old friends
there; of the ball and Prince di Borgesi; in all of which Dora
felt that she had no share.

Who was this beautiful lady, with her fair face and golden hair?

The same face she saw that Ronald had painted in his picture, and
every one admired. How graceful she was! How she talked! The
words seemed to ripple like music over her perfect lips. Where