e bustle and turmoil of preparation, to go to
the silent, solitary rooms where her daughter's voice had once made
sweetest music.

She was there alone for some time; it was Lord Earle who found her, and
tried to still her bitter weeping.

"It is useless, Ronald," she cried; "I can not help asking why my
bright, beautiful darling should be lying there. It is only two years
since a wedding wreath was made for her."

Nothing would comfort her but a visit to her daughter's grave. It was a
long walk, but she preferred taking it alone. She said she should feel
better after it. They yielded to her wish. Before she had quitted the
house many minutes, the Princess Borgezi arrived.

There was no restraint in Ronald's greeting. He was heartily glad to
see her--glad to look once more on the lovely Grecian face that had
seemed to him, years ago, the only model for Queen Guinivere. They
talked for a few minutes; then Valentine, turning to him, said:

"Now let me see Lady Dora. My visit is really to her."

They told her whither she had gone; and Lady Helena whispered something
to her with brought tears to Valentine's eyes.

"Yes," she said; "I will follow her. I will ask her to kiss me over
her daughter's grave."

Some one went with her to point out the way, but Valentine entered the
church yard alone.

Through the thick green foliage she saw the shining of the white marble
cross, and the dark dress of Dora, who knelt by the grave.

She went up to her. Her footsteps, falling noiselessly on the soft
grass, were unheard by the weeping mother.

Valentine knelt by her side. Dora, looking up, saw the calm face
beaming down upon her, ineffable tenderness in the clear eyes. She felt
the clasp of Valentine's arms, and heard a sweet voice whisper:

"Dora, I have followed you here to ask you to try to love me, and to
pardon me for my share in your unhappy past. For the love of your
dead, who loved me, bury here all difference and dislike."

She could not refuse. For the first time, Lord Earle's wife laid her
head upon that noble woman's shoulder and wept away her sorrow, while
Valentine soothed her with loving words.

Over the grave of a child the two women were reconciled--all dislike,
jealousy, and envy died away forever. Peace and love took their place.

In the after-time there was something remarkable in Dora's reverential
love for Valentine. Lord Earle often said that in his turn he was
jealous of her. His w