"If you think it wise for a stranger to interfere in so delicate a matter, I will do so cheerfully," she said; "but let me counsel on thing. Tell Lord and Lady Earle at once. Do not delay, every hour is of consequence." "What do you think of my story?" asked Ronald, anxiously. "Have I done right or wrong?" "Do not ask me," replied Valentine. "Yes," he urged, "I will ask again; you are my friend. Tell me, have I done right or wrong?" "I can speak nothing but truth," replied Valentine, "and I think you have done wrong. Do not be angry. Honor is everything; it ranks before life or love. In some degree you have tarnished yours by an underhand proceeding, a private marriage, one forbidden by your parents and distasteful to them." Ronald's face fell as her words came to him slowly and clearly. "I thought," said he, "I was doing a brave deed in marrying Dora. She had no one to take her part but me." "It was a brave deed in one sense," said Valentine. "You have proved yourself generous and disinterested. Heaven grant that you may be happy!" "She is young and impressionable," said Ronald; "I can easily mold her to my own way of thinking. You look very grave, Miss Charteris." "I am thinking of you," she said, gently; "it seems to me a grave matter. Pardon me--but did you reflect well--were you quite convinced that the whole happiness of your life was at stake? If so, I need say no more. It is an unequal marriage, one not at all fitting in the order of things." How strange that she should use his father's words! "Tell your father at once," she continued. "You can never retrace the step you have taken. You may never wish to do so, but you can and must retrieve the error of duplicity and concealment." "You will try and make my mother love Dora?" said Ronald. "That I will," replied Valentine. "You sketched her portrait well. I can almost see her. I will speak of her beauty, her grace, her tenderness." "You are a true friend," said Ronald, gratefully. "Do not overrate my influence," said Valentine. "You must learn to look your life boldly in the face. Candidly and honestly I think that, from mistaken notions of honor and chivalry, you have done wrong. A man must be brave. Perhaps one of the hardest lessons in life is to bear unflinchingly the effects and consequences of one's own deeds. You must do that, you must not flinch, you must bear what follows like a man and a hero." "I will," said Ronald, looking at the fair face, and half wishing that the little Dora could talk to him as this noble girl did; such noble words as hers made men heroes. Then he remembered how Dora would weep if he were in trouble, and clasp her arms round his neck. "We shall still be friends, Miss Charteris?" he said, pleadingly. "Whatever comes you will not give me up?"