Ronald's story became known in Florence. He was the son of a
wealthy English peer, who had offended his father by a "low"
marriage; in time he would succeed to the title. Hospitalities
were lavished upon him, the best houses in Florence were thrown
open to him, and he was eagerly welcomed there. When people met
him continually unaccompanied by his young wife they smiled
significantly, and bright eyes grew soft with pity. Poor, pretty
Dora!
Ronald never knew how the long hours of his absence were spent by
Dora. She never looked sad or weary to him, he never saw any
traces of tears, yet Dora shed many. Through the long sunny
hours and far into the night she sat alone, thinking of the home
she had left in far-off England--where she had been loved and
worshiped by her rough, homely, honest father and a loving
mother; thinking too, of Ralph, and his pretty, quiet homestead
in the green fields, where she would have been honored as its
mistress, where no fine ladies would have vexed her with
questions, and no one would have thought her ignorant or awkward;
thinking of all these things, yet loving Ronald none the less,
except that a certain kind of fear began to mingle with her love.
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