dness at Greenoke, and you must help me to
return it. I shall consider every attention shown to the lady and her
daughter as shown to myself."

Ronald smiled at his mother's words, and told her he would never fail
in her service.

"If he sees much of Valentine," thought his mother, "he can not help
loving her. Then all will be well."

Ronald was not in the house when the guests arrived; they came rather
before the appointed time. His mother and Lady Charteris had gone to
the library together, leaving Valentine in the drawing room alone.
Ronald found her there. Opening the door, he saw the sleeve of a white
dress; believing Lady Earle was there, he went carelessly into the
room, then started in astonishment at the vision before him. Once in a
century, perhaps, one sees a woman like Valentine Charteris; of the
purest and loveliest Greek type, a calm, grand, magnificent blonde,
with clear, straight brows, fair hair that shone like satin and lay in
thick folds around her queenly head--tall and stately, with a finished
ease and grace of manner that could only result from long and careful
training. She rose when Ronald entered the room, and her beautiful
eyes were lifted calmly to his face. Suddenly a rush of color dyed the
white brow. Valentine remembered what Lady Earle had said of her son.
She knew that both his mother and hers wished that she should be
Ronald's wife.

"I beg your pardon," he said hastily, "I thought Lady Earle was here."

"She is in the library," said Valentine, with a smile that dazzled him.

He bowed and withdrew. This, then, was Valentine Charteris, the fine
lady whose coming he had dreaded. She was very beautiful--he had never
seen a face like hers.

No thought of love, or of comparing this magnificent woman with simple,
pretty Dora, ever entered his mind. But Ronald was a true artist, and
one of no mean skill. He thought of that pure Grecian face as he would
have thought of a beautiful picture or an exquisite statue. He never
thought of the loving, sensitive woman's heart hidden under it.

It was not difficult when dinner was over to open the grand piano for
Valentine, to fetch her music, and listen while she talked of operas he
had never heard. It was pleasant to watch her as she sat in the
evening gloaming, her superb beauty enhanced by the delicate evening
dress of fine white lace; the shapely shoulders were polished and
white, the exquisite arms rounded and clasped by a brac