he Arno, she at first half
declined.

"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 entered. There were a few
words of confused greeting, a hurried explanation of the circumstances
that led Sir Hugh to Florence; and then Valentine looked long and
steadily at the only man she had ever cared for. He was altered; the
frank, handsome face looked worn and thin; it had a restless
expression. He did not look like a man who had found peace. Lady
Charteris told him of her last visit to Earlescourt--how his mother
never ceased speaking of him, and his father still preserved the same
rigid, unbending silence.

"I have seen your picture," said Lady Charteris. "How well you
remembered my daughter's face."

"It is one not easily forgotten," he replied; and then another deep
silence fell upon him.

"Where is Mrs. Earle?" asked Valentine. "Our visit is chiefly to her.
Pray introduce her to mamma. I know her already by description."

"I left my wife in the garden," said Ronald; "shall we join her there?"

They followed him into the pretty sunlit garden, where Valentine had
seen the pale, sad face.

"My wife is timid," said Ronald, "alwa