The young nurse looked up in wonder at the hard voice, usually soft as the cooing of a ring-dove.
"I will go," she replied, "if the signora will take me.

I leave none behind that I love." With trembling, passionate hands and white, stern face, Dora packed her trunks and boxes--the children's little wardrobe and her own, throwing far from her every present, either of dress or toys, that Valentine had brought.
She never delayed to look round and think of the happy hours spent in those pretty rooms.

She never thought of the young lover who had given up all the world for her.

All she remembered was the wrathful husband who never wished to see her more--who, in presence of another, had bitterly regretted having made her his wife.

She could not weep--the burning brain and jealous, angry heart would have been better for that, but the dark eyes were bright and full of strange, angry light.