When Mrs.Thorne, alarmed by the children's cries, came in, Dora did not know her, but cried out loudly that she was a false woman, who had lured her husband from her.
They sent in all haste for aid; but the battle was long and fierce.
During the hours of delirium, Mrs.Thorne gleaned sorrowfully some portions of her daughter's story.

She cried out incessantly against a fair woman--one Valentine--whom Ronald loved--cried in scorn and anger.
Frequently she was in a garden, behind some trees; then confronting some one with flaming eyes, sobbing that she did not believe it; then hiding her face and crying out: "He has ceased to love me--let me die!" But the time came when the fierce fever burned itself out, and Dora lay weak and helpless as a little child.

She recovered slowly, but she was never the same again.

Her youth, hope, love, and happiness were all dead.

No smile or dimple, no pretty blush, came to the changed face; the old coy beauty was all gone.
Calm and quiet, with deep, earnest eyes, and lips that seldom smiled, Dora seemed to have found another self.