They spoke of the fair and coquettish Countess Rosali,
still a reigning belle, and said how warmly she would welcome
them for their father's sake.
"You talk so much of Italy," said Valentine to Beatrice. "It is
just the land for the romance you love. You shall see blue skies
and sunny seas, vines, and myrtles, and orange trees in bloom;
you shall see such luxuriance and beauty that you will never wish
to return to this cold, dreary England."
It was thus arranged that, when Lord Earle returned, the visit
should be paid. The evening after their guests' departure seemed
long and triste.
"I will write to mamma," said Beatrice; "it is strange she never
told us anything of her friend. I must tell her all about the
visit."
Not daring to ask the girls to keep any secret from Dora, Lady
Earle was obliged to let the letter go. The passionate, lonely
heart brooded over every word. Beatrice dwelt with loving
admiration on the calm, grand beauty of the princess, her sweet
and gracious manner, her kindly recollection of Dora, and her
urgent invitation to them. Dora read it through calmly, each
word stabbing her with cruel pain.
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