Valentine Charteris had one charm even greater than her beauty.
She talked well and gracefully--the play of her features, the
movement of her lips, were something not to be forgotten; and her
smile seemed to break like a sunbeam over her whole face--it was
irresistible.

Poor Ronald stood by her, watching the expression that seemed to
change with every word; listening to pretty polished language
that was in itself a charm. The two mothers, looking on, and
Lord Earle felt himself relieved from a heavy weight of care.
Then Lady Earle asked Valentine to sing. She was quite free from
all affectation.

"What kind of music do you prefer?" she asked, looking at Ronald.

"Simple old ballads," he replied, thinking of Dora, and how
prettily she would sing them.

He started when the first note of Valentine's magnificent voice
rang clear and sweet in the quiet gloaming. She sang some quaint
old story of a knight who loved a maiden--loved and rode away,
returning after long years to find a green grave. Ronald sat
thinking of Dora. Ah, perhaps, had he forsaken her, the pretty
dimpled face would have faded away! He felt pleased that he had
been true. Then the music ceased.

"Is that what you like?" asked Valentine Charteris, "it is of the
stronger sentimental school."

Simple, honest Ronald wondered if sentiment was a sin against