They had never seen any one so dazzling or so bright.

The calm, grand, Grecian face had gained in beauty; the magnificent head, with its wealth of golden hair, the tall, stately figure, charmed them.

And when Valentine took them in her arms and kissed them her thoughts went back to the white, wild face in the garden and the dark eyes that had flamed in hot anger upon her.
"I knew your mother years ago," she said; "has she never mentioned my name?
I used to nurse you both in the little villa at Florence.

I was one of your father's oldest friends." No, they had never heard her name; and Beatrice wondered that her mother could have known and forgotten one so beautiful as the princess.
The week she remained passed like a long, bright dream.

Beatrice almost worshiped Valentine; this was what she had dreamed of long ago; this was one of the ideal ladies living in the bright, gay world she was learning to understand.
When the prince and princess left Earlescourt they made Lady Helena promise that Beatrice and Lillian should visit them at Florence.