"No," he said gravely. "I am very unhappy—more so than you can imagine, Valentine. Life seems to have lost all its charms for me. I had such great hopes once, but they are all dead now."
"You are too young to say that," she replied; "a little courage, a little patience, and all will be well. If it comforts you to know that my warmest, deepest sympathy is with you—"
Valentine Charteris never finished her sentence; a pale, angry face and dark, gleaming eyes full of passion suddenly flashed before her.
"You may spare your pity, Miss Charteris," cried a hoarse voice. "Why have you made my husband dissatisfied with me? Why have you taken his love from me? Why do you write notes asking him to meet you, that you may both speak evil and wrong of his low-born wife?"
"Hush!" said Ronald, sternly, grasping her arm. "Stop those wild words, Dora! Are you mad?"
"No, not yet," she cried; "but this false woman will drive me so!"
Then Miss Charteris rose, her calm, grand face unruffled, not a quiver on her proud lips.
"Stay, Miss Charteris, one moment, I pray you," said Ronald, "while my wife apologizes for her folly."
"It is all true," cried Dora. "She wrote and asked you to meet her here."
"Dora," said her husband, gravely, "did you read the letter Miss Charteris wrote to me?"