ok 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. Countess Rosali had a great dread of all domestic
scenes.

Neither Dora nor Ronald ever alluded again to this little incident; it
had one bad effect--it frightened the timid young wife, and made her
dread going into society. When invitations to grand houses came, she
would say, "Go alone, Ronald; if I am with you they are sure to ask me
ever so many questions which I can not answer; then you will be vexed
with me, and I shall be ashamed of my ignorance."

"Why do you not learn?" Ronald would ask, disarmed by her sweet
humility.

"I can not," said Dora, shaking her pretty head. "The only lesson I
ever learned in my life was how to love you."

"You have learned that by heart," replied Ronald. Then he would kiss
her pitiful little face and go without her.

By slow degrees it became a settled rule that Dora should stay at home
and Ronald go out. He had no scruples in leaving her--she never
objected; her face was always smiling and bright when he went away, and
the same when he returned. He said to himself that Dora was happier at
home than elsewhere, that fine ladies frightened her and made her
unhappy.

Their ways in life, now became separate and distinct, Ronald going more
than ever into society, Dora clinging more to the safe shelter of home.

But society was expensive in two ways--not only from the outlay in
dress and other necessaries, but in the time taken from work. There