He had been playing with the children, and had
forgotten for the time both Valentine and her note. He cried out
in alarm as she turned her white, wild face to him in dumb,
silent despair.
"What is the matter, Dora?" he cried. "Are you ill or
frightened? You look like a ghost."
She made no reply, and her husband, thinking she had relapsed
into one of her little fits of temper, sighed heavily and bade
her good night.
Poor, foolish, jealous heart--she never lay down to rest!
She had quite resolved she would go and meet the husband who was
tired of her and the woman who lured him away. She would listen
to all they had to say, and then confront them. No thought of
the dishonor of such a proceeding struck her. Poor Dora was not
gifted with great refinement of feeling--she looked upon the
step she contemplated rather as a triumph over an enemy than a
degradation to herself. She knew the place in the grounds where
they should be sure to meet. Miss Charteris called it her bower;
it was a thick cluster of trees under the shade of which stood a
pretty, rustic seat; and Dora thought that, if she placed herself
behind the trees, she would be able to hear all unseen.
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