Neither of them resembled her,
and at times Dora wished it had been otherwise.

Perhaps in all Ronald Earle's troubled life he never spent a more
unsettled or wretched year than this. "It is impossible to paint," he
said to himself, "when disturbed by crying babies." So the greater part
of his time was spent away from home. Some hours of every day were
passed with Valentine; he never stopped to ask himself what impulse led
him to seek her society; the calm repose of her fair presence
contrasted so pleasantly with the petty troubles and small miseries of
home. When Miss Charteris rode out he accompanied her; he liked to
meet her at parties and balls. He would have thought a day sad and
dark wherein he did not see her.

When the little ones reached their first birthday, Valentine, with her
usual kind thought, purchased a grand assortment of toys, and drove
over quite unexpectedly to the villa. It was not a very cheerful scene
which met her gaze.

Ronald was busily engaged in writing. Dora, flushed and worn, was
vainly trying to stop the cries of one child, while the other pulled at
her dress. The anxious, dreary face struck Valentine with pain. She
laid the parcel of toys down, and shook hands with Ronald, who looked
somewhat ashamed of the aspect of affairs. Then, turning to Dora, she
took the child from her arms, and little Beatrice, looking at her with
wondering eyes, forgot to cry.

"You are not strong enough, Dora, to nurse this heavy child," said Miss
Charteris. "Why do you not find some one to help you?"

"We can not afford it," said Ronald, gloomily.

"We spend too much in gloves and horses," added Dora, bitterly; but no
sooner were the words spoken than she would have given the world to
recall them.

Ronald made no reply, and Valentine, anxious to avert the storm she had
unwittingly raised, drew attention to the toys.

When Valentine left them, Dora and Ronald had their first quarrel long
and bitter. He could ill brook the insult her words implied--spoken
before Valentine, too!--and she for the first time showed him how an
undisciplined, untrained nature can throw off the restraint of good
manners and good breeding. It was a quarrel never to be forgotten,
when Ronald in the height of his rage wished that he had never seen
Dora, and she re-echoed the wish. When such a quarrel takes place
between man and wife, the bloom and freshness are gone from love. They
may be reconciled, but they wil