The very thought pierced her heart, and the timid young
wife sat with a sorrowful look upon her face that took away all
its simple beauty.
"I will show you a sketch of the costume," said the countess; "it
is in my desk. Pray excuse me."
She was gone in an instant, and Dora was alone with her husband.
"For Heaven's sake, Dora," he said, quickly, "do look a little
brighter; what will the countess think of you? You look like a
frightened school girl."
It was an injudicious speech. If Ronald had only caressed her,
all would have been sunshine again; as it was, the first
impatient words she had ever heard from him smote her with a new,
strange pain, and the tears overflowed.
"Do not--pray--never do that," said Ronald; "we shall be the
laughing stock of all Florence. Well-bred people never give way
to emotion."
"Here is the sketch," said the countess, holding a small drawing
in her hand. Her quick glance took in Dora's tears and the
disturbed expression of Ronald's face.
With kind and graceful tact the countess gave Dora time to
recover herself; but that was the last time she ever invited the
young artist and his wife alone.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127