ss entered the room where the children were.

"Maria," she said, "I am going home, over the seas to England. Will you
come with me?"

The only thing poor Dora had learned during those quiet years was a
moderate share of Italian. The young nurse looked up in wonder at the
hard voice, usually soft as the cooing of a ring-dove.

"I will go," she replied, "if the signora will take me. I leave none
behind that I love."

With trembling, passionate hands and white, stern face, Dora packed her
trunks and boxes--the children's little wardrobe and her own, throwing
far from her every present, either of dress or toys, that Valentine had
brought.

She never delayed to look round and think of the happy hours spent in
those pretty rooms. She never thought of the young lover who had given
up all the world for her. All she remembered was the wrathful husband
who never wished to see her more--who, in presence of another, had
bitterly regretted having made her his wife. She could not weep--the
burning brain and jealous, angry heart would have been better for that,
but the dark eyes were bright and full of strange, angry light. The
little ones, looking upon her, wept for fear. With eager, passionate
love she caught them in her arms, crying the while that they should
never remain to be despised as she was.

In the white-faced, angry woman, roused to the highest pitch of
passion, there was no trace of pretty, blushing Dora. Rapidly were the
boxes packed, corded, and addressed. Once during that brief time Maria
asked, "Where are you going, signora?" And the hard voice answered,
"To my father's--my own home in England."

When everything was ready, the wondering children dressed, and the
little maid waiting, Dora sat down at her husband's desk and wrote the
following lines. No tears fell upon them; her hand did not tremble,
the words were clear and firmly written:

"I have not waited for you to send me away. Your eyes shall not be
pained again by resting on the face where you read dishonor. I saw
months ago that you were tired of me. I am going to my father's house,
and my children I shall take with me--you care no more for them than
for me. They are mine--not yours. I leave you with all you love in
the world. I take all I love with me. If you prayed for long years, I
would never return to you nor speak to you again."

She folded the note and addressed it to her husband. She left no kiss
warm from her lips upon it.