The little ones, looking upon her, wept for fear.

With eager, passionate love she caught them in her arms, crying the while that they should never remain to be despised as she was.
In the white-faced, angry woman, roused to the highest pitch of passion, there was no trace of pretty, blushing Dora.

Rapidly were the boxes packed, corded, and addressed.

Once during that brief time Maria asked, "Where are you going, signora ?" And the hard voice answered, "To my father's--my own home in England." When everything was ready, the wondering children dressed, and the little maid waiting, Dora sat down at her husband's desk and wrote the following lines.

No tears fell upon them; her hand did not tremble, the words were clear and firmly written: "I have not waited for you to send me away.