l never again be to each other what they
once were. A strong barrier is broken down, and nothing can be put in
its place.

Chapter XIII

The angry, passionate words spoken by Ronald--almost the first he had
ever uttered--soon faded from his mind, but they rankled like poisoned
arrows in Dora's heart. She believed them. Before evening her husband
repented of his anger, and called himself a coward for having scolded
Dora. He went up to her and raised her face to his.

"Little wife," He said, "we have both been wrong. I am very sorry--let
us make friends."

There was just a suspicion of sullenness in Dora's nature, and it
showed itself in full force now.

"It is no matter," she replied, coolly; "I knew long ago that you were
tired of me."

Ronald would not answer, lest they should quarrel again, but he thought
to himself that perhaps she was not far wrong.

From that day the breach between them widened. In after years Dora saw
how much she was to blame. She understood then how distasteful her
quiet, sullen reserve must have been to a high-bred, fastidious man
like Ronald. She did not see it then, but nursed in her heart
imaginary wrongs and injuries; and, above all, she yielded to a wild,
fierce jealousy of Valentine Charteris.

For some weeks Miss Charteris saw the cloud deepening on Ronald's face.
He grew silent, and lost the flow of spirit that had once seemed never
to fail; and during the few weeks that followed, a strong resolution
grew in her mind. She was his true friend, and she would try to
restore peace and harmony between him and his wife. She waited for
some days, but at her mother's house it was impossible to see him
alone. Yet she honestly believed that, if she could talk to him,
remind him of his first love for Dora, of her simplicity and many
virtues, she might restore peace and harmony to her old friend's house.
She thought Ronald to blame. He had voluntarily taken active duties
upon himself, and to her clearly, rightly judging mind, there was no
earthly reason why he should not fulfill them. He would not feel hurt
at her speaking, she felt sure, for he had voluntarily sought her aid
years ago. So Valentine waited day after day, hoping to find a chance
for those few words she thought would do so much good; but, as no
opportunity came, she resolved to make one. Taking her little jeweled
pencil, she wrote the following lines that were in after-time a death
warrant:

"Dear Mr. Ear