worshiped by her rough, homely, honest father and a loving
mother; thinking too, of Ralph, and his pretty, quiet homestead
in the green fields, where she would have been honored as its
mistress, where no fine ladies would have vexed her with
questions, and no one would have thought her ignorant or awkward;
thinking of all these things, yet loving Ronald none the less,
except that a certain kind of fear began to mingle with her love.

Gradually, slowly, but surely, the fascination of the gay and
brilliant society in which Ronald was so eagerly courted laid
hold of him. He did not sin willfully or consciously; little by
little a distaste for his own home and a weariness of Dora's
society overcame him. He was never unkind to her, for Ronald was
a gentleman; but he lingered no more through the long sunny
morning by her side. He gave up all attempts to educate her. He
ceased to tease her about books; he never offered to read to her;
and pretty, simple Dora, taught by the keen instinct of love,
noted it all.

Ronald saw some little change in her. The dimples and smiles had
almost vanished from her face. He seldom heard the laugh that
had once been so sweet to him. There was retiring grace in her
manner that suited her well. He thought she was catching the
"tone of good society," and liked the change.

Some natures become ennobled under the pressure of adversity; but
limited means and petty money cares had no good effect upon
Ronald Earle. He fretted under them. He could do nothing as
other people did. He could not purchase a magnificent bouquet
for the countess; his means would not permit it. He could not