The burning tears rolled down her cheeks and blinded her to everything. On that fair Christmas morn, Italy Vale felt herself the most desolate girl beneath the heavens. CHAPTER XXIII. A MEMORABLE SLEIGH-RIDE. But fate had another surprise in store for Italy ere the sun set that day. In the early afternoon a double sleigh stopped before the door, and from it descended three persons--Alexie Audenreid, Ralph Allen, and Emmett Harlow. Emmett had returned three weeks previous, and had made his first call ten days ago, so Italy was not surprised to see him. The young man was boarding in the same house with Ralph Allen, as also the friend that had come with him from Europe, a big, handsome German professor, with a fine curly blond beard, and long hair as curly as his beard and almost as fair. His dark-blue eyes were so weak that he used glasses habitually, and had a lazy, slouching manner peculiar to profound students. But for this, and his slovenly style of dressing, Professor Doepkin would have appeared a remarkably attractive personage. Italy had not met the German yet, but she had heard of him from her other three friends and knew that he and Emmett were inseparable friends, although the professor was so absorbed in his books that he had no time for general society. “But he has made friends with Mrs. Severn and admires her immensely,” said Ralph, and then Emmett added: “Do you know, Miss Vale, I think there is quite a likeness between you and Mrs. Severn? Of course she is a little older and the sadness of her manner spoils the charm of her beauty to some extent, but yet she is very lovely.” “I admire Mrs. Severn very much,” Italy answered cordially. So now here were the three friends clamoring for Italy’s company on their sleigh-ride. “We will take no denial,” cried Alexie. “You cannot refuse a bride anything, you know,” chimed in Ralph, laughing. The wedding, in fact, was but ten days off, and cards were already out. “Go, dear,” said Mrs. Vale persuasively, and then Italy hesitated no longer. She felt that the fresh, cold air would cool her burning temples. How delightful it was under the warm fur robes. Her color rose and the light came back to her eyes. Emmett looked at the glowing beauty so fitly framed in sealskin cap and cloak, and sighed to himself: “She has many lovers, they tell me, but no one will ever worship her more faithfully than I do.” He loved to watch every line of that young and charming face, and unconsciously to himself he had grown fond of watching Isabel Severn’s face as they met daily at table, just for the likeness he fancied in its dusky beauty to that of Italy. It lacked brightness and color, for tears had washed away its girlish bloom, or the haunting resemblance would have been even more striking.