HIS HEART'S QUEEN

_By_ MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON

Author of

"Dorothy's Jewels, " "Earl Wayne's Nobility, " "The False and the True, ""Helen's Victory, " "Tina, " "Trixy, " etc. 

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS52 Duane Street New York

Copyright 1890, 1903By Street & Smith

A. L. BURT COMPANYPublishers New York

Popular BooksBy MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON

In Handsome Cloth BindingPrice per Volume, 60 Cents

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 Transcriber's Note: Variant spellings, particularly bowlder (boulder), clew (clue) and vail (veil), have been retained. Also, the Table of Contents was missing so it has been created. 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT. CHAPTER II. V. D. H. IS CLAIMED BY HER FRIENDS. CHAPTER III. WILLFUL VIOLET HAS HER OWN WAY. CHAPTER IV. A PARTING SOUVENIR. CHAPTER V. VIOLET ASSERTS HERSELF. CHAPTER VI. A CONFESSION AND ITS REPLY. CHAPTER VII. "HE IS MY AFFIANCED HUSBAND. "CHAPTER VIII. "I'LL BREAK HER WILL!"CHAPTER IX. VIOLET BECOMES A PRISONER. CHAPTER X. "YOU WILL BE TRUE THOUGH THE OCEAN DIVIDES US. "CHAPTER XI. "DEATH HAS RELEASED YOU FROM YOUR PROMISE. "CHAPTER XII. "YOU HAVE GIVEN YOUR PROMISE AND YOU MUST STAND BY IT. "CHAPTER XIII. THE DAY IS SET FOR VIOLET'S MARRIAGE. CHAPTER XIV. "THERE WILL BE NO WEDDING TO-DAY"CHAPTER XV. "SHE IS MY WIFE. "CHAPTER XVI. "I MUST FIND HER--I MUST FOLLOW HER. "CHAPTER XVII. LORD CAMERON AND WALLACE BECOME FIRM FRIENDS. CHAPTER XVIII. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. CHAPTER XIX. A RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE. CHAPTER XX. VIOLET RETURNS TO AMERICA. CHAPTER XXI. VIOLET MAKES AN ENGAGEMENT. CHAPTER XXII. VIOLET AND HER UNRULY PUPIL. CHAPTER XXIII. VIOLET GAINS A SIGNAL VICTORY. CHAPTER XXIV. VIOLET MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 

HIS HEART'S QUEEN

CHAPTER I. 

A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT. 

Just at sunset, one bright spring day, the car that plies up and downthe inclined plane leading from the foot of Main street up the hills tothe Zoological Gardens, of Cincinnati, started to make the ascent withits load of precious human freight. 

The car was full of passengers, though not crowded, while among theoccupants there were several young people, whose bright faces andanimated manner bespoke how light of heart and free from care theywere--what a gladsome, delightful place the world seemed to them. 

One young lady, who was seated about midway upon one side of the car, attracted especial attention. 

She was, perhaps, seventeen years of age, slight and graceful in form, with a lovely, piquant face, merry blue eyes, and a wealth of curlinggolden hair, that clustered about her white forehead in bewitchinglittle rings. 

She was richly dressed in a charming costume of tan-brown, trimmed witha darker shade of the same color. Upon her head she wore a jaunty hat offine brown straw, with a wreath of pink apple-blossoms partiallyencircling it, and fastened on one side with a pretty bow of glossysatin ribbon, also of brown. A dainty pair of bronze boots incased hersmall feet, and her hands were faultlessly gloved in long suedegauntlets. A small, brown velvet bag, with silver clasps, hung at herside, and in her lap lay an elegant music-roll of Russian leather. 

Everything about her indicated that she was the petted child of fortuneand luxury. Her beautiful eyes were like limpid pools of waterreflecting the azure sky; her lips were wreathed with smiles; there wasnot a shadow of care upon her delicate, clear-cut face. 

Directly opposite her sat a young man whose appearance indicated thathis circumstances were just the reverse, although no one could ever lookinto his noble face without feeling impelled to take a second glance athim. 

He was tall and stalwart of form, broad-shouldered, full-chested, straight of limb, with a massive head set with a proud poise above awell-shaped neck. He looked the personification of manly beauty, strength, and health. 

His face was one that, once seen, could never be forgotten. It was graveand sweet, yet having a certain resolute expression about the mouthwhich might have marred its expression somewhat had it not been for themirthful gleam which now and then leaped into his clear, dark-browneyes, and which betrayed that, beneath the gravity and dignity which alife of care and the burden of poverty had chiseled upon his featuresand imparted to his bearing, there lurked a spirit of quiet drollery andhealthy humor. 

His features were strong and regular; the brow full and shapely, thenose aquiline, the mouth firm, the chin somewhat massive. It was apowerful face--a good face; one to be trusted and relied on. 

The young man was, perhaps, twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, though at first his dignified bearing might lead one to imagine him tobe even older than that. 

He was clad in a very common suit, which betrayed his poverty, while athis feet, in a basket, lay a plane and saw, which indicated that hebelonged to the carpenters' guild. 

The pretty girl opposite stole more than one curious and admiring lookat this poor young Apollo, only to encounter a similar, though whollyrespectful glance from his genial and expressive eyes, whereupon thelovely color would come and go on her fair, round cheek, and her eyesdroop shyly beneath their white lids. 

When the car left its station at the base of the plane and began to makeits ascent, not one among all its passengers had a thought of theterrible experience awaiting them--of the tragedy following so closelyin their wake. 

It had nearly reached the top; another minute, and it would have rolledsafely into the upper station and have been made fast at the terminus. 

But, suddenly, something underneath seemed to let go; there was aninstant's pause, which sent a thrill of terror through every heart; thenthere began a slow retrograde movement, which rapidly increased, until, with a feeling of terror that is utterly indescribable the ill-fatedpeople in that doomed car realized that they were being hurried swiftlytoward a sure and frightful destruction. 

Cries and shrieks and groans filled the place. There was a frantic rushfor the door, the doomed victims seeking to force their way out of thecar to leap recklessly from the flying vehicle, and trust thus to thefaint hope of saving their lives. 

But both doors were securely fastened--they were all locked within theirprison; there was no hope of escape from it and the terrible crashawaiting them. 

When the beautiful girl whom we have described realized the hopelesssituation, she gave one cry of horror, then seemed to grow suddenly andstrangely calm, though a pallor like that of death settled over herface, and a look of wild despair leaped into her eyes. 

Involuntarily she glanced at the young man opposite her, and she foundhis gaze riveted upon her with a look of intense yearning, whichbetrayed that he had no thought for himself; that all his fear was forher; that the idea of seeing her, in all her bright young beauty, dashedin pieces, crushed and mangled, had overpowered all sense of his ownpersonal doom. 

She seemed to read his thoughts, and, like one in a dream or nightmare, she almost unconsciously stretched forth her hands to him with a gesturewhich seemed to appeal to him to save her. 

Instantly he arose to his feet, calm, strong, resolute. 

His face was as pale as hers, but there was a gleam in his eyes whichtold her that he would not spare himself in the effort to save her. 

"Will you trust me?" he murmured hoarsely in her ear, as he caught hertrembling hands in his. 

Her fingers closed over his with a frantic clutch; her eyes sought hisin desperate appeal. 

"Yes! yes!" Her white lips framed the words, but no sound issued fromthem. 

The car had now attained a frightful velocity; a moment or two more andall would be over, and there was not an instant to lose. 

The young man reached up and grasped with his strong, sinewy hands thestraps which hung from the supports above his head. 

"Quick now!" he said to his almost paralyzed companion; "stand up, putyour arms about my neck, and cling to me for your life. "

She looked helplessly up into his face; it seemed as if she had not thepower to move--to obey him. 

With a despairing glance from the window and a groan of anguish, hereleased his hold upon the straps, seized her hands again, and lockedthem behind his neck. 

"Cling! Cling!" he cried, in a voice of agony. 

The tone aroused her; strength came to her, and she clasped himclose--close as a person drowning might have done. 

He straightened himself thus, lifting her several inches from the floorof the car, seized again the straps above, and swung himself also clear, hoping thus to evade somewhat the terrible force of the shock which heknew was so near. 

He was not a second too soon; the crash came, and with it one frightfulvolume of agonizing shrieks and groans; then all was still. 

The car had been dashed into thousands of pieces, burying beneath the_debris_ twenty human beings. 

A group of horrified spectators had gathered in the street at the baseof the plane when it was rumored that the car had lost its grip upon thecable, and had watched, with quaking hearts and bated breath, the awfuldescent. 

When all was over, kind and reverent hands began the sad work ofexhuming the unfortunate victims of the accident. 

It was thought at first that all were dead--that not one had escaped;that every soul had been hurled, with scarcely a moment's warning, intoeternity. 

The brave young carpenter was found lying beneath two mangled bodies, with the beautiful girl whom he had tried to save clasped close in oneof his arms; the other lay crushed beneath him. 

"Brother and sister, " some one had said, as, bending over them, he hadtried to disengage the lovely girl from his embrace. 

He had only been stunned, however, by the shock, when the car struck, and he now opened his great brown eyes, drawing in a deep, deep breath, as if thus taking hold anew of the life that had so nearly been dashedout of him. 

This was followed by a groan of pain, and he became conscious that hehad not escaped altogether unscathed. 

"Is she safe?" he gasped, his first thought, in spite of his ownsufferings, being for the girl for whom he had braved so much, while hetried to look into the white, still face hidden upon his breast. 

They tried to lift her from him, but her little hands were so tightlylocked at the back of his neck that it was no easy task to unclasp them. 

"She is dead, " a voice said, when at last she was removed, and some onetried to ascertain if her heart was still beating; "the shock has killedher. "

"No, no!" sobbed the now completely unnerved young carpenter; "do nottell me that she is--dead. "

"Who are you, my poor fellow? Where do you live? Shall we take you tothe hospital, or do you want to go home?" they asked him. 

"Oh, no, not to the hospital--home to my mother, " the young manreturned, with difficulty, for his sufferings seemed to increase as hecame to himself more fully. 

"No. ---- Hughes street, " the poor fellow gasped, and then fainted deadaway. 

They had not thought to inquire if the young girl was his sister, butthey took it for granted that she was, so they laid them side by sideand bore them away to Hughes street. 

They found, upon inquiry, that the house referred to was occupied by aMrs. Richardson. 

The woman was away when the sad cortege arrived at her home, but alatch-key was found in the pocket of the young man, by which an entrancewas effected, and they deposited him upon a bed in a small room leadingfrom the sitting-room, while the young girl was laid upon a lounge inthe neat and cozy parlor. Then they hastened away to procure a physicianto examine the injuries of the two sufferers. 

Mrs. Richardson returned, just about the time that the surgeon arrived, to find that her only son had been one of the victims of the horribletragedy, a rumor of which had reached her while she was out, and that astrange but lovely girl had also been brought, through mistake, to herhome. 

The surgeon turned his attention at once to this beautiful stranger, who, to all appearance, seemed beyond all human aid; but during hisexamination his face suddenly lighted. 

"She is not dead, " he said; "the shock has only caused suspension ofanimation. Her heart beats, her pulse is faint, but regular, and Icannot find a bruise or a scratch anywhere about her. "

He gave her into the hands of some women, who had come in to offer theirservices, with directions how to apply the restoratives he prescribed, and then turned his attention to the son of the house, who by this timehad recovered consciousness and was suffering intense pain from hisinjuries. 

His mother was bending over him in an agony of anxiety and suspense, while she strove, in various ways, to relieve his sufferings. 

"Wallace--Wallace!" she cried; "how did it happen that you were going upin that car at this time of the day?"

"I cannot tell you now--some other time, " he returned. 

Then turning to the surgeon, who entered at that moment, while he stroveto stifle his groans in his anxiety to learn how it fared with the girlwhom he had so bravely tried to save, he asked, eagerly. 

"How is she?"

"She is not injured; there is not a bone broken that I can discover, andshe will do well enough unless the shock to her nerves should throw herinto a fever or bring on prostration, " the doctor replied. 

"Thank Heaven!" murmured the carpenter, and then fainted away again. 

A thorough examination of his condition revealed the fact that two ribshad been fractured and his left arm broken in two places, while it wasfeared that there might be other internal injuries. 

All that could be done for him was done at once, and, though weak andexhausted, he was otherwise comparatively comfortable when the surgeongot through with him. 

He then turned his attention once more to the fair girl in the otherroom. 

"You will have your hands more than full, Mrs. Richardson, with your sonand daughter ill at once, " he remarked. "You must have an experiencednurse to assist you. "

"The poor girl is not my daughter; I do not even know who she is, " thewoman replied, as she bent over the beautiful stranger with a tender, motherly face. 

"Not your child! Who can she be, then?" her companion inquired, insurprise. 

They searched in her pretty velvet bag, hoping to find her card or someaddress; but nothing was found save some car tickets and a generous sumof money. 

The inscription upon her music-roll revealed scarcely more--only theinitials "V. D. H. " being engraven upon its silver clasp. 

She had recovered consciousness, but still lay so weak and faint thatthe surgeon did not think it best to question her just then, and, aftertaking one more look at his other patient, he went away to other duties, but promised to look in upon them again in a couple of hours. 

When he did return he found Wallace comfortable and sleeping; but theyoung girl was in a high fever and raving with delirium. 

"Shall I have her taken to the hospital?" Doctor Norton asked of Mrs. Richardson. "The care of both patients will be far too much for you, andher friends will probably find her there before long. "

"I cannot bear to let her go, " Mrs. Richardson replied, with staringtears. "She is so young, and has been so delicately reared. I know thatshe would have the best of care; still I recoil from the thought ofhaving her moved. Leave her here for a day or two, and, if my son iscomfortable, perhaps I can take care of her without neglecting him. "

Thus it was arranged, and the physician went away thinking that womenlike Mrs. Richardson were rare. 

Two days later the following advertisement appeared in the Cincinnatipapers:

 Wanted, information regarding Miss Violet Draper Huntington, who left her home, No. ---- Auburn avenue, on Tuesday afternoon, to take a music lesson in the city. Fears have been entertained that she might have been one of the victims of the Main street accident, but though her friends have thoroughly searched the morgue and hospitals, no tidings of her have as yet been obtained. 

Doctor Morton read the above while on his way to visit his two patientsin Hughes street, and instantly his mind reverted to the initialsengraved upon the unknown girl's music-roll. 

"V. D. H. , " he said, musingly, as his eyes rested upon the name VioletDraper Huntington in the advertisement. "That is my pretty patient, poorchild! and now we will have your friends looking after you and relievingthat poor overworked woman before another twelve hours pass. "

He showed the advertisement to Mrs. Richardson upon his arrival at thehouse, and she agreed with him that her lovely charge must be the MissHuntington referred to in the paper. 

The girl continued to be in a very critical state. She was burning withfever, was unconscious of her surroundings, was constantly calling upon"Belle" and "Wilhelm" to "help her--to save her. "

"She is not so well, " the physician said, gravely, as he felt thebounding pulse, "her fever is increasing. I shall go at once to Auburnavenue and inform her relatives of her condition. "

CHAPTER II. 

V. D. H. IS CLAIMED BY HER FRIENDS. 

Doctor Norton easily found the residence of Violet Huntington's friendson Auburn avenue, and as he mounted the massive granite steps and rangthe bell of the handsome house he read the name of Mencke on the silverdoor-plate. 

"Aha! Germans, " mused the physician, "wealthy people, too, I judge. "

A trim servant in white cap and apron answered his summons, and, uponinquiring for Mrs. Mencke, he was invited to enter. 

He was ushered into a handsome drawing-room, where, upon every hand, evidence of wealth met his eye, and after giving his card to the girl, he sat down to await the appearance of the lady of the house. 

She did not tax his patience long; the "M. D. " upon his card hadevidently impressed Mrs. Mencke with the belief that the physician hadcome to bring her some tidings of the beautiful girl who had sostrangely disappeared from her home a few days previous. She came intothe room presently, followed by a man whom Doctor Norton surmised to beher husband. 

Mrs. Mencke was a large, rather fine-looking woman of perhaps thirtyyears. Her bearing was proud and self-possessed, and, while there was asomewhat anxious expression on her face, she nevertheless impressed thekind-hearted doctor as a person of selfish nature, and lacking inwomanly sympathy. 

Her husband was a portly man, dark-complexioned, and German inappearance. There was a cunning, rather sinister expression on his face;he had small, black eyes, and a full, shaggy beard, while a pompousswagger in his bearing betrayed an arrogant disposition and excessivepride of purse. 

"Doctor Norton, " Mrs. Mencke began, without waiting for him to state theerrand that had brought him there, "have you come to bring me news of mysister? Was she in that fatal car--is she injured--dead?"

"If my surmises are correct, and Miss Violet Huntington is your sister, I can give you tidings of her, " Doctor Norton returned. 

"Yes, yes; that is her name, " Mrs. Mencke interposed. 

"Then I am happy to tell you that a young lady of perhaps seventeen oreighteen years was rescued. "

"Rescued!" cried Mrs. Mencke, eagerly. "William, " turning to herhusband, "do you hear? How was she rescued?"

"Perhaps I should not have spoken with quite so much confidence, "corrected the doctor. "But the young lady to whom I refer had with her amusic-roll upon the clasp of which the letters 'V. D. H. ' wereengraved. "

"That must have been Violet, " said Mrs. Mencke. "She went to the citythat afternoon to take her music lesson at four o'clock. "

"Then she was saved by a young man--a Mr. Wallace Richardson--in therecent accident on the inclined plane. Mr. Richardson was severelyinjured, but he has been able to give an account of how he prevented theyoung lady from being dashed to pieces like many of the other victims, "Doctor Norton returned. 

He then proceeded to relate what Wallace had told him had occurredduring those few horrible moments when that ill-fated car was plungingat such a fearful rate toward its doom. 

Mrs. Mencke appeared to be greatly affected by the thrilling account;but her phlegmatic husband listened to the recital with a stoliditywhich betrayed either a strange indifference or a wonderful control overhis nerves and sympathies. 

"Oh! it is the most wonderful thing in the world that she was not killedoutright, " Mrs. Mencke remarked, with a shiver of horror, "and we havebeen very anxious. You say that she is seriously ill?" she questioned, in conclusion. 

"Yes; the shock to her system has been a serious one, madame, " thephysician replied, "and, although there is not a scratch nor a bruiseupon her, she is very ill and delirious at the home of this brave youngcarpenter to whom she owes so much. "

"Young!" repeated Mrs. Mencke, remarking the adjective for the firsttime, and looking somewhat annoyed. "How old is he?"

"About twenty-three or twenty-four, I should judge, " was the reply. 

A frown settled upon the woman's brow; but after a moment she asked:

"Do you consider her dangerously ill, Doctor Norton?"

"Yes, madame, she is. Your sister is delicately organized, and hersystem has had a terrible shock; the horror and fright alone, of thosefew dreadful moments, were sufficient to unhinge the strongest nerves, "the physician gravely replied. 

As he said this he happened to glance at Mr. Mencke, and was astonished, amazed, to observe a look of unmistakable satisfaction, if not ofabsolute triumph, flash from his eyes. 

What could it mean?

Was it possible that the man, for any secret reason, could desire thedeath of this young and beautiful girl?

He had not once spoken as yet, having simply nodded to the doctor, witha half-suppressed grunt, in answer to his courteous salutation. 

"William, do you hear?" his wife now said, turning to him. "Violet isdangerously ill down on Hughes street. I must go to her at once. "

"Certainly, of course, " responded her better half, with a shrug of hiscorpulent shoulders. 

"She is my sister, though much younger than myself, and I have had thecare of her ever since the death of our parents, " Mrs. Mencke explained. "What can I do? Will it be possible to bring her home?"

"I fear not at present, " Doctor Norton returned, "but it would be wellto provide a competent nurse for her where she is, as Mrs. Richardsonhas her hands more than full with the care of both patients and herdomestic duties also. "

"Certainly, Violet shall have every attention, " the woman responded, somewhat haughtily, while the frown deepened upon her brow at themention of the people upon whose care her sister had been so strangelythrown. 

Doctor Norton was inwardly indignant that neither of his listenersshould express the slightest gratitude or appreciation for what braveWallace Richardson had done to save the young girl's life. Evidentlythey were not pleased that she should owe so great a debt to so plebeiana source. 

Mrs. Mencke now arose and excused herself, saying that she would makeready to accompany the physician to Hughes street to attend to hersister's needs. 

"That was a horrible affair, " Doctor Norton observed to Mr. Mencke, asshe left the room, determined to draw out his reticent companion if thatwere possible. 

"It was beastly, " grunted the man, with another shrug; "and thecorporation will have a pretty sum to pay for damages. Will--do youthink the girl--Violet--will die?" and the man leaned eagerly forward, agreedy sparkle in his small, black eyes. 

A flush of anger and disgust mounted to the good doctor's brow at thisquestion, and like a flash the man's character was revealed to him. 

He saw that he was a shrewd, grasping, money-making man, who measuredeverything and everybody by dollars and cents; that already, instead offeeling gratitude, he was computing the chances of making something outof the "corporation" in the event of the death of his wife's sister, if, indeed, the girl herself did not possess a fortune which would also fallinto his hands should she die. 

"I shall do my best to save her, sir; that is, if I am allowed to retainthe case--and I see no reason why, with proper care, she should notrecover, " he forced himself to reply, as courteously as possible. 

"Humph!" grunted Mr. Mencke, and then he fell to musing again, doubtlesscomputing the chances upon some other money-making scheme. 

Presently Mrs. Mencke returned, dressed to go out and bearing awell-filled satchell in her hands. She had hastily gathered a fewarticles of comfort for her sister's use. 

Doctor Norton and his companion proceeded directly to Hughes street, where Mrs. Richardson welcomed Mrs. Mencke with motherly kindness andinterest, and then conducted her at once to the bedside of theunconscious Violet, who was still calling piteously upon Belle andWilhelm to save her. 

"Belle is here, Violet, " said her sister, bending over the sufferer;"you are safe, and nothing can hurt you now. "

At the sound of her familiar voice the sick girl glanced up at her, anda flash of recognition and consciousness returned for a moment. 

"Oh, Belle!" she cried, with a sigh of relief, as she seemed to realizefor the first time that she was safe. "It was so horrible--horrible! Buthe was so brave--a hero, and so handsome----"

"Hush, dear; you must not talk about it, " interrupted the proud woman, her brow contracting instantly at this mention of the young carpenter, while she glanced about the humble though pretty room with an air ofdisdain that brought the sensitive color into Mrs. Richardson's cheeks, and made the physician glare angrily at her for her rudeness. 

"Will you remove your hat and wrap, Mrs. Mencke? You will probably liketo remain with your sister for a while, " her hostess remarked, with alady-like courtesy which betrayed that, whatever her presentcircumstances might be, she had at some time moved in cultured society. 

"Yes, I shall remain until a suitable nurse can be obtained, " the womansaid, coldly, as she gave her hat and mantle into her hands. 

Then she turned to Doctor Norton and remarked:

"Doubtless you know of some one who would be competent to take charge ofMiss Huntington?"

"Yes, I know of just the person--she is a trained hospital nurse; buther compensation is fifteen dollars a week besides her living, " DoctorNorton responded. 

"I do not care what her compensation is, " replied Mrs. Mencke, with aslightly curling lip; "I wish Violet to have the best of care. Are yousure it will not do to have her taken home?" she concluded, with ananxious glance toward the room, where she had caught a glimpse of theother patient as she entered. 

"Very sure, madame, " returned the physician, decidedly. "I would not beanswerable for the consequences if she were removed. With an efficientnurse, the young lady can be made very comfortable here. Mrs. Richardsonhas kindly resigned this room--the best she had--for her use. It is cooland airy, and you do not need to have any anxiety about her on the scoreof her accommodations. If you insist upon removing her, however, it mustbe upon your own responsibility. "

Mrs. Mencke thought a moment, then she said:

"Very well; it shall be as you advise, and I will come every day tospend as much time as possible with her. Mrs. Richardson shall be wellpaid, too, for her room and all inconvenience. "

Mrs. Richardson's delicate face flushed again at this coarse referenceto their obligation to her. There had not been one word of thanks orappreciation for what she had already done; it seemed as if the haughtywoman considered that her money would cancel everything. 

"The dear child is welcome to the room and any other comfort that I cangive her, " she said, quietly; then added: "It is time now for her feverdrops. "

She leaned over the sufferer, who had again relapsed into her deliriousstate, and gently put the spoon to her lips. 

Violet unclosed her eyes and looked up into the kind, motherly face, hesitated a moment, then swallowed the drops, while she murmured, as herglance lingered on her countenance:

"You are good--I love you, " then, with a sigh, she turned her head uponthe pillow and dropped into a sleep, while her companions stole from theroom to complete their arrangements for her future comfort. 

"Your son--how is he?" Mrs. Mencke inquired, as they entered thesitting-room, and she felt that it devolved upon her to make theinquiry. 

"Better, thank you. He has not so much pain, and Doctor Norton thinkshis bones are going to knit nicely. He suffers more from his bruises andcuts than from the broken bones. I am very thankful that he has escapedwith his life, " Mrs. Richardson answered, tremulously, and withstartling tears. 

"Was he badly hurt?" inquired the lady, languidly. 

"Well, he has a couple of protuberances upon his head, three seriousbruises on one leg, and a deep cut on the other from brokenwindow-glass. Our young hero--and he is a hero, Mrs. Mencke--is prettywell battered up; but, please God, we are going to save him, and he'llcome out as good as new in time. " Doctor Norton returned, with an energythat made Mrs. Richardson smile, though with tremulous lips. 

"It was a frightful accident, " murmured Mrs. Mencke, with a slightshiver. 

"You may well say that, madame; and it was a happy inspiration on thepart of Mr. Richardson to try to save Miss Huntington in the way that hedid. By suspending himself from the straps and make her cling to him hebroke the force of the crash for both of them; and, if she lives, thereis not the slightest doubt in the world that she will owe her life tohis thoughtfulness, " said the worthy doctor. 

"I am sure it was very good of him, and--we are very grateful to him, "was the tardy admission of Violet's proud sister; but it lacked the ringof sincerity, and her patronizing manner plainly indicated that herpride rebelled against all feeling of obligation to an humble carpenter. 

"You certainly have reason to be, " Doctor Norton retorted; then, bowingcoldly to her, he went into the small bedroom leading from thesitting-room, to see how his hero fared. 

"How is she now, doctor?" Wallace eagerly asked, the moment he crossedthe threshold. 

It was always his first thought and inquiry whenever the physician madehis appearance, and he would never allow him to pay the slightestattention to himself until he had first made an examination of Violet'scondition. 

"Pretty sick, my boy; but I hope she is going to pull through, " hecheerfully replied. 

"Thank heaven!" murmured the young man, fervently. 

Doctor Norton observed him keenly for a moment, with a kindly yetsomewhat anxious gleam in his eyes; then he said:

"Look here, my fine fellow, let me give you a little timely warning;don't you go to falling in love with this pretty Violet--you'll onlymake mischief for both yourself and her if you do, for her friends arerich, and proud as Lucifer--as hard-hearted, too, if I am notmistaken--and nothing but a fortune will ever tempt them to yield her tothe best lover in the world. "

The young man flushed a vivid crimson at this blunt speech, and thephysician, noticing it, continued:

"No doubt you think I'm meddling with what is none of my business, butI've seen enough to-day to convince me that such a romantic result ofthis accident would be the worst thing that could possibly happen toyou. But how do you find yourself to-day?" he concluded, abruptlychanging the subject. 

"I have some pain in this right leg, but not enough to fret over, "Wallace replied, turning his now pale face away from the doctor's keeneyes. 

There had suddenly come a sharper pain in his heart than any physicalsuffering that he had as yet endured, as, all at once, he becameconscious that he had already been guilty of doing exactly what the goodsurgeon had warned him against. 

Already he had begun to love Violet Huntington with all the strength andpassion of his manly, honest heart. He had been instantly attracted byher lovely face and lady-like appearance, when he entered the car thatbright spring afternoon. When his glance met hers a magnetic current hadseemed to be established between them. When she had realized the horrorof their situation, after the grip upon the cable had been lost, andthrown out her hands so appealingly to him, his heart had been suddenlythrilled with the desire to save her, even at the expense of his ownlife; in that one brief instant he had given himself to her, for life ordeath. When he had clasped her hands about his neck and lifted her uponhis breast--when he had felt her head droop upon his shoulder, and thebeating of her frightened heart against his own, a feeling almost ofecstasy had taken possession of him, and the strange thought had come tohim that he was perhaps going into eternity with the woman who shouldhave been his wife--with the one kindred soul designed for him by hisMaker. 

But now the doctor's words had given him a rude shock, and he resolved, rather than allow a suspicion of his affection to make trouble for thesweet girl who had become the one coveted object of his life, to bury itso deep in his heart that no other should ever mistrust it. 

CHAPTER III. 

WILLFUL VIOLET HAS HER OWN WAY. 

That same evening a thoroughly competent nurse was installed by Violet'sbedside, and Mrs. Mencke, having given certain directions regarding thecare of her sister, returned to her home on Auburn avenue. 

She came every day afterward, however, to ascertain how Violet wasprogressing, and though for a week her fever ran very high, and thedoctor considered her alarmingly ill, yet at the end of that time shebegan slowly but surely to mend. 

Consciousness returned, and with it the memory of all that had occurredon that never-to-be-forgotten day, while she talked continually of thebrave young man who had saved her life. 

When she was first told that she was in the same house with him, therich color suffused her face, and an eager look of interest leaped intoher eyes. 

"In his home--am I? How strange!" she murmured; "how did it happen thatI was brought here?"

"Those who found you thought that you were brother and sister, " thenurse told her, thinking it no harm that she should know all thedetails, if she did not get excited. "They found you together, one ofhis arms clasping you close to him, and both your hands locked about hisneck. "

A burning blush shot up to the girl's golden hair at this information. 

"He told me to--to cling to him, " she said, in a low tone. 

"Of course; and it showed his good sense, too, for it was the only thingthat saved your life, dear child, " replied the nurse; "and it seemed asif he had not one thought for himself, then nor since, for his firstquestion, when the doctor goes to him, is about you. "

"How good--how noble of him! and he is so badly hurt, too, " Violet said, tremulously. 

"Oh, but he is coming out of it finely, " the nurse said, reassuringly. "There isn't a scratch on his face, and his broken bones are mendingnicely. He is already up and about, though he looks rather peaked, as ifhe were still a good deal shaken up over the dreadful tragedy--for Isuppose you know that you and he are the only ones who came out of italive. "

"Oh! was every one else killed?" said Violet, with a shiver of horror. "How dreadful!"

She lay there, very quiet and thoughtful, for some time after that, butby and by she asked:

"Nurse, when may I get up?"

"In a few days, dear, if you continue to improve as you have done duringthe last week, " the woman replied. 

"Then may I see him--Mr. Richardson? I must see him and thank him forwhat he has done. Just think--he saved me from getting even a scratch ora bruise. "

"Um!" returned the nurse, pursing up her lips; "your sister, Mrs. Mencke, has given orders that you are not to receive any visitors whileyou are here?"

"Well, of course, and I do not care to see company much until I go home;but you must let me see Mr. Richardson, " Violet said, with some show ofspirit. 

"Well, maybe Mrs. Mencke wouldn't object; you can ask her when shecomes, " said the nurse, doubtfully. 

"I shall do no such thing, and I am going to see Mr. Richardson!"retorted Violet, wilfully, and flushing hotly. "The idea of herobjecting, when he saved my life, and when dear Mrs. Richardson has beenso kind! They would think me very ungrateful not to tell them how very, very thankful I am. "

"But Mrs. Mencke said----" began the nurse, objectingly, for Violet'ssister had given very strict orders upon this very point. 

"I don't care what Belle said--Belle is too fresh sometimes!" Violetcried, spiritedly, and relapsing a trifle into slang, in her irritationover her sister's interference. 

The nurse changed the subject, and nothing more was said about thematter. 

Three days later Violet was allowed to get up for the first time, andafter that she sat up every day. 

One morning she seemed to feel much stronger than usual, and the nurseallowed her to be regularly dressed in a pretty pale-blue cashmerewrapper, which Mrs. Mencke had sent the previous day; then she drew herchair beside one of the windows, where she could look out upon thestreet. 

She seemed very bright, and told the woman that she began to feel quitelike herself again. She certainly looked very pretty, though somewhatpale and thin, showing that she had lost a little flesh during herillness. 

"Now, nurse, " Violet said, when the woman had tidied up the room, andthere seemed to be nothing more to be done just then, "don't you want togo out and get the air for a little while? You have not been out oncesince you came, and I am so well and comfortable to-day, you might gojust as well as not. "

"Thank you, miss; it would be a pleasant change, " the woman returned, with a longing look out of the window. 

"Then go, by all means, Mrs. Dean, " Violet said, eagerly, "and stay anhour if you like. I know Mrs. Richardson would wait upon me if I shouldneed anything, which I am sure I shall not, " she concluded, with afurtive glance toward the sitting-room, where, during the lasthalf-hour, she had heard, now and then, the rattle of a newspaper, andsurmised that her young hero was engaged in perusing the morning newsthere. 

The temptation proved too strong to be resisted, and Mrs. Dean, takingViolet at her word, yielded, and soon after went forth into the glorioussunshine, to enjoy the privilege so kindly given. 

Violet sat and watched her until she was well down the street, a queerlittle smile on her pretty lips; but her attention was presentlyattracted by the entrance of Mrs. Richardson, who came to see if shewanted anything, and to bring her a little silver bell, to ring in caseshe should need her. 

"How well you are looking to-day, dear, " she said, as she noticed herbright eyes and the faint flush which was just beginning to tinge hercheek, "I am really surprised at your rapid improvement during the lastfew days. "

"I feel almost well. I believe I could do an hour's practice if therewas only a piano here, " Violet answered, as she glanced wistfully at hermusic-roll, which lay on the table near her. 

"I am sorry that we have none, " Mrs. Richardson replied, "but perhaps itis just as well, after all, for the effort might be too much for yourstrength. Can I do anything for you?"

"Thank you, no, " Violet answered, with an appreciative smile. 

"Then I am going down into the laundry for a while, but I will leavethis bell with you; if you need me, ring, and I will come instantly. "

"You are very good, " the young girl said, then, with a rising flush anddowncast eyes, she asked: "How is Mr. Richardson this morning?"

"Doing finely, dear, thank you, only he gets a trifle impatient, now andthen, because his arm is useless, and he cannot go back to work. "

"It must be very tedious for him, and I am very sorry, " Violet said, with a regretful sigh. Then with a timid, appealing glance: "May I notsee him, Mrs. Richardson, and tell him how I appreciate his heroism andthe service he rendered me?"

Mrs. Richardson colored at this request, for she had overheard Mrs. Mencke telling the nurse to be sure and not allow any one to see Violet, save those who had the care of her, and she well understood what thatinjunction meant; consequently her pride and sense of what was rightwould not allow her to take advantage of the nurse's absence to bringabout a meeting between the young people. So she replied, with quietgravity:

"I would not like to assume the responsibility of granting your requestto-day, dear; we must not tax your strength too much at first; someother time, perhaps. "

She put the bell where Violet could reach it, telling her to be sure toring if she needed anything, then she went out, leaving the doorslightly ajar. 

As she disappeared Violet nodded her sunny head mischievously, and shota wicked little smile after her. 

"You are the dearest darling in the world, " she murmured, "and I knowyou are resolved not to be guilty of doing anything to offend my proudsister. You will not 'assume the responsibility, ' but I will. Mrs. Bellejust isn't going to have her way, all the same, and I am going to havemine if I can manage it. I wonder if I could walk into the other room. "

She glanced toward the door and seemed to be measuring the distance withher eye. 

"I am going to try it anyway, " said this willful little lady, as shedeliberately slipped out of her chair and stood upon her feet. 

She found herself still very weak, and for a moment it seemed as if hertrembling limbs would not support her, but the determination to outwither haughty sister had taken possession of her, and she was bound toaccomplish her purpose. 

She managed to get to a common cane-seat chair, and pushing this beforeher as a support, sitting down once or twice to rest, she at lengthreached the door leading into the other room. 

Wallace Richardson was sitting by a window, his back toward the parlorwhere Violet had been ill. He had been reading the morning paper, but ithad dropped upon his knees and he had fallen into a fit of musing, histhoughts turning, as they did involuntarily, to that fearful ride downthe inclined plane, while he always saw in imagination that wild look ofappeal upon the lovely face of Violet Huntington, as she instinctivelyturned to him for help. 

Suddenly he was startled by a slight movement near him, and, glancingup, he beheld the object of his thoughts standing in the door-way justbehind him. 

"Miss Huntington!" he cried, starting to his feet in amazement andconsternation, "I am afraid you are very imprudent. Do you wantsomething? Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes, if you will please help me to that chair I will be much obliged; Iam not quite so strong as I thought I was, and find myself a littletired, " Violet replied, looking very pale after her unusual exertion. 

"I should think so, indeed! Here, take this chair, " said Wallace as hegently helped her, with his well hand, to the chair that he had justvacated. 

"Thank you, " Violet said, as she sank panting into it; then, glancing upat him with a roguish smile, she continued: "Don't look so shocked, Mr. Richardson; I suppose I am a trifle pale, but I am not going to faint, as I see you fear. I was lonely in there by myself and imagined that youwere also, so I took a sudden notion that I would pay you a littlevisit. I--I thought it was about time that we made each other'sacquaintance and compared notes upon our injuries. "

Wallace thought that he had never seen any one so pretty as she was atthat moment. Her golden hair had been carelessly knotted at the back ofher head, while a few short locks lay in charming confusion upon herwhite forehead. Her delicate blue wrapper, with its filmy lace rufflesat the neck and waists, was exceedingly becoming, while the laughing, roguish light in her lovely azure eyes thrilled him with a strangesensation. Then, too, the thought that she had made all this exertionjust for the purpose of seeing him made his heart leap with delight. 

"I had no idea that you were able to make such an effort, " he managed tosay in reply, though he could never remember afterward what answer hedid make. 

Her strength and color were coming back now that she was seated, and shelaughed out mischievously. 

"It was an experiment, " she said, "perhaps a hazardous one, and I mustmake my visit and get back before nurse returns, or I fear I shall get avigorous scolding; but I just had to come to see you--I couldn't waitany longer. When I think of how much I owe you, it seems perfectlyheartless that I have not told you how thankful I am for the life thatyou have saved; but for you I might have shared the fate of the others, "and tears were in the beautiful eyes uplifted to his face. 

"Do not think of it, Miss Huntington, " Wallace said, growing pale as hisown thoughts went back to those moments of horror. 

"Why not?" she cried, impulsively. "Why should I not think of it andspeak of it, too, when I see this poor arm"--and she touched it almostreverently with her dainty fingers--"when I realize how thoughtless ofself you were in trying to save me? Ah! and that poor hand, too, " sheadded, as she caught sight of his right hand, which had been badly cutby broken glass, and on which she saw a broad strip of court-plaster, "how much you have suffered!"

And carried away by her feelings, forgetful of all but the gratitudethat filled her warm, young heart, she suddenly bent forward andimpulsively touched her lips to the wounded hand that hung by his side. 

Wallace caught his breath. That touch was like electricity to him, andthe rich color surged up to his brow. 

"Miss Huntington, don't!" he cried; "you overestimate what I did. "

"No, indeed I do not, " Violet returned, earnestly, and then, overcome bythe sudden realization of what she had done--that he was almost astranger and she had been guilty of a rash and perhaps unmaidenly act--aburning blush leaped to the roots of her hair, and for the moment shewas speechless from shame and embarrassment. 

"Pardon me, " she said, after an awkward silence. "I forgot myself--Iforgot everything but that I owe you my life. "

Then tossing back her head and shooting a half appealing, half defiantlook at him, to cover her confusion, she said, with a bewitching littlepout:

"But now that I have come to call upon you, Mr. Richardson, aren't yougoing to entertain me?"

The change from embarrassment to this pretty piquancy was soinstantaneous and so charming that Wallace's face grew luminous withadmiration and delight. A smile wreathed his lips, and there came a lookinto his eyes that made her flush consciously again. 

"Certainly; I shall only be too happy. What can I do to amuse you? ShallI read to you?"

Violet shrugged her shoulders. 

"No, talk to me, " she said, with pretty imperiousness. "I have been shutup so long that I am pining for entertaining society. "

Wallace flushed at this. He was not used to talking to fine youngladies; he had been very little in society, and had met but very fewpeople in fashionable life. His days were occupied by work, for he hadto support himself and his mother, while his evenings were devoted tostudy. 

But he really desired to amuse his lovely visitor, and so, going to abook-case, he took down a large, square book and brought it to her. 

"Have you ever seen any agricultural drawings, Miss Huntington?" heinquired. 

"No, " Violet said. 

"Do you think it would interest you to examine some?"

"Oh, yes, " she answered, eagerly. 

She would have been interested in anything which he chose to talk about. 

"I am glad of that, " he returned, "for architecture is to be thebusiness of my life, and I can talk more fluently upon that subject thatupon any other. "

Then he opened the book and began to show her his drawings. 

"Since a little boy I have desired to be an architect, " he told her, "and while my father lived I had every advantage which I chose toimprove; but after his death misfortune obliged me to give up school andto go to work. I chose the carpenter's trade--my father was a contractorand builder--for I reasoned that a practical knowledge of theconstruction of buildings would help me in the profession which I hope, even yet, to perfect myself in. All my evenings during the past fouryears have been spent in the drawing-school, and where, during the lasttwo years I have, a portion of each night, served as a teacher. "

He pointed out to Violet several of his own designs, all of which, shecould readily see, were very fine, and some exceedingly beautiful. 

While discussing some point, Violet casually compared it with somethingthat she had seen in ancient structures abroad, and this led them toenlarge upon the architecture of the old country, until they grew veryfree and friendly in their conversation. 

Neither was aware how rapidly time was passing, until the clock struckthe hour of eleven; then, with a sudden start, the young girl exclaimedthat she must get back to her own room at once, or run the risk of beingscolded should the nurse find her there. 

"I can get back to my chair much more quickly, Mr. Richardson, if youwill help me, " she said, with an arch look, as she arose from her seatby the window; and Wallace, with another thrill of delight, gave her hiswell arm and assisted her to cross the room, a feat which sheaccomplished much more easily than before. 

When he had seated her comfortably, she gave him a roughish glance, andremarked, playfully:

"I suppose it is polite for people to return calls, isn't it, Mr. Richardson?"

He laughed out heartily, and thought her the most bewitching littlepiece of humanity he had ever seen. 

"I suppose it is, " he answered; then growing grave, he added, "but Iunderstand that your sister does not think it advisable for you to havevisitors. "

"Nonsense!" began Violet, impatiently, then espying the nurse justmounting the steps, she continued, "but there is Mrs. Dean. I willdiscuss the calling question with you some other time. Good-by. "

Wallace took the hint implied in this farewell, returned to thesitting-room, where he was apparently deeply absorbed in the contents ofhis paper when the refreshed and smiling nurse entered. 

CHAPTER IV. 

A PARTING SOUVENIR. 

A week went by, and both patients continued to improve, but the weatherbeing unfavorable--a cold wind prevailing--the physician would notconsent to have Violet removed to Auburn avenue until it was milder. 

Every pleasant morning, however, Violet insisted upon having the nursego out for an airing, telling her to remain as long as she liked, andjust as often the young girl succeeded in securing an interview withWallace. 

She saw that both he and Mrs. Richardson were averse to his returningher call, and she did not urge it; but in her pretty, imperious way sheinsisted that he must help her out into the sitting-room or she shouldget "awfully homesick" staying in the parlor all the time. 

They could not well refuse her request, and every morning as soon as thenurse disappeared she went out to them. 

Sometimes Mrs. Richardson would remain and join in their conversation, but this could not always be, for her household duties must be attendedto, and so they were often left by themselves. 

Occasionally Wallace read to her from the daily paper, or from someinteresting book; but more frequently they spent the time conversing, growing every day more friendly, and falling more and more under thespell of each other's society. 

Wallace realized his danger--knew that every hour spent in the fairgirl's presence was serving to make him more wholly her slave. 

That first meeting, when she had come upon him so unexpectedly, hadassured him that he could not see her often without riveting the chainsof his love more hopelessly about him. Her exquisite beauty, herartless, impulsive manner, the glance of her beautiful eyes, all movedhim as he had never been moved before, and warned him that danger toboth lay in indulging himself in the delight of her society. 

Danger! Yes, for he well knew that he--a poor carpenter who had to toilwith his hands for his daily bread--ought never to speak words of loveto the delicate girl who had been reared amid the luxuries of wealth;knew that her haughty relatives would scorn such an alliance with one inhis humble circumstances. 

But he seemed powerless to prevent it--powerless to save either himselfor her; for Violet, all unconscious of the precipice toward which theywere drifting, thinking only of the enjoyment of the moment, persistedin seeing him, day after day, and thus, before she was aware of thefact, becoming entangled in coils from which she was never to escape. 

Mrs. Mencke came every afternoon, but never remained long, for she was awoman of many social obligations, and thought if she simply came toinquire regarding Violet's welfare, she was doing her whole duty by her. 

She always found her alone with the nurse, or with Mrs. Richardson, ifthe former was busy, and fondly imagined that everything was all right;never suspecting the mischief--as she would be likely to regard it--thatwas being brewed by that artful little god of love--Cupid. 

Doctor Norton finally gave his consent to having Violet removed, and onthe same day, when Mrs. Mencke paid her usual visit, she was told thatto-morrow she would be taken home. 

The young girl received this unwelcome news in silence, but a greatdarkness seemed suddenly to have fallen around her. 

After her sister's departure she turned to Mrs. Richardson, and thewoman saw that her eyes were full of tears. 

"Dear Mrs. Richardson, " she said, "I am so sorry to leave you! I havebeen so happy here--it is such a quiet, peaceful place, and you havebeen so kind to me, I really feel homesick at the thought of goinghome--and that sounds like a paradox, doesn't it?"

Mrs. Richardson smiled fondly into the fair face lifted to hers, thoughan expression of pain flitted over her brow at the same time. 

"I shall be just as sorry to give you up as you can be to go, " shereplied. "You have been a very patient invalid, and it has been simply apleasure to have you here. Still, your home is so delightful, and youhave so many kind friends, you will soon forget your quiet sojourn onHughes street. "

"No, indeed--never!" Violet returned, flushing. Then she added, impulsively, while a great longing seemed to sweep over her: "I knowthat my home is beautiful with everything that money can buy, but--thereis no soul in it. "

"My dear child! I am sure you do not mean that, " said Mrs. Richardson, reprovingly. "That is a very sad thing to say about one's own home. "

"Yes, I do mean it, " Violet answered, with quivering lips. "Belle isgood enough in certain ways, and I suppose she is fond of me, after afashion; but she is a society woman, and always full of engagements, while Wilhelm cares for nothing but his horses and his business. I wishI had a mother, " and a pathetic little sob concluded the sentence. 

During the weeks of her illness, the young girl had found a long-feltvoid filled by the care and tenderness of this motherly woman. 

Mrs. Richardson laid her hand caressingly upon the golden head, and herheart yearned over the fair invalid. She also had longed for a lovingdaughter, to brighten and soothe her declining years, even as Violetlonged for a mother. 

Violet reached up and clasped the tender hand, and brought it round toher lips. She was naturally an affectionate little thing, and much givento acting upon the impulse of the moment. 

"I shall always love you, dear Mrs. Richardson, and you will let me cometo see you, will you not?" she asked, appealingly. 

"Certainly, dear. I shall be very glad to see you at any time, " sheanswered, heartily, and deeply touched by the young girl's evidentaffection for her; but she changed the subject, and began to chatentertainingly upon other topics, for she saw that she was reallydepressed by the thought of going back to her "soulless" home. 

The next morning an elegant carriage, drawn by a pair of coal-blackhorses in silver-mounted harness, drove to the humble home of theRichardsons in Hughes street, and the colored driver presented a notefrom Mrs. Mencke, saying that Violet was to return home at once; thatshe had an important engagement and could not come for her herself, butwished that the nurse should attend her instead. 

Violet was very pale and quiet as they dressed her for the drive, whileher heavy eyes often turned to the door leading into the sitting-roomwith a wistful, regretful glance. 

"I shall miss you so much, Mrs. Richardson. You will come to see me, will you not?" she said, as she put up her lips for her good-by kiss. 

"Yes, I will come within a few days. I shall want to know how you aregetting on. There, you are all ready now, I believe, " she concluded, asshe folded a light shawl about her shoulders, for though the day waswarm, they wished to guard against all danger of her taking cold. 

But Violet stood irresolute a moment, then she said:

"I want--may I go to say good-by to all--to Mr. Richardson?" and aburning flush mounted to her brow as she made the request. 

Mrs. Richardson looked grave as she remarked the blush, but she gave thedesired permission; and while she went to assist the nurse to putViolet's things in the carriage, the young girl moved slowly toward thesitting-room, where she found Wallace, looking pale and depressed, hisfine lips drawn into a firm, white line. 

"I have come to say good-by, " Violet remarked, as she approached himwith downcast eyes. "I--I hope you will soon be quite well again; but, oh! Mr. Richardson, if I could only do something to show you how----"

"Please, Miss Huntington, never refer to the accident in that wayagain, " Wallace returned, speaking almost coldly, because of therestraint he was imposing upon himself. 

He had not realized until that morning how very desolate he should feelwhen Violet was gone, for she might as well be going out of the worldaltogether, as far as he was concerned, he thought, as back to Auburnavenue. 

How could he let her go--resign her to another sphere, as it were, forsome favorite of fortune to win? He was suffering torture, and it seemedalmost impossible for him to bid her a formal good-by. 

Violet lifted a pained, startled look to his face at his cold, reservedtone. 

"Forgive me. I did not mean to offend you, " she said; "but you mustunderstand something of how I feel. I know that you have saved my life. I shall never forget it as long as I live, and you must let me unburdenmy heart in some way. At least, I may give you a little keepsake, ifnothing more, " she pleaded, earnestly. 

He smiled into her upturned face. She was so fair, so eager, he had notthe heart to repulse her. 

"Yes, I should be very glad of some souvenir--you are very good to thinkof it, " he said, with a thrill in his tones which brought the color backto her pale cheeks. 

"Thank you for conceding even that much, " she returned, brightening;"and now I wonder what it shall be. "

"The simplest thing you can think of, " Wallace said, hastily; "somethingthat you have worn would be most precious----"

He cut himself short, for he felt that he was betraying too much of whatwas in his heart. 

Violet flashed a sly look at him, and her pulses leaped at his words, and the glance that accompanied them. 

"Something that I have worn, " she murmured, musingly. 

She glanced at her hands, where, upon her white fingers, gleamed severalvaluable rings, but she instinctively felt that none of these would be asuitable offering. 

He certainly would not care for a bracelet--he would not accept herwatch. 

Then suddenly one dainty hand went up to her throat, where her collarwas fastened with a beautiful brooch to which there was attached apendant as unique as it was lovely. 

"Will you have this?" she asked, touching it. "Mamma gave it to me onebirthday--you shall have the pendant to wear on your chain, and I willkeep the brooch always. "

She unfastened the ornament and held it out to him. 

The pendant was a small golden medallion with richly enameled pansy, atiny diamond in its centre, on one side, while upon the other wasengraved the name "Violet. "

Wallace flushed with pleasure; he could have thought of nothing thatwould afford him so much gratification. Still he hesitated to take it. 

"I do not like to rob you of your mother's gift, " he said, gently. 

"Please take it; I want you to have it--that is, if you would like it, "Violet said, eagerly, and looking so lovely in her earnestness that helonged to take her in his arms and claim her for his own, then andthere. 

"You are sure you will not regret it?" he asked. 

"No--no, indeed; and you can easily detach it, for it is only fastenedby this slender ring. "

"I think you will have to do that for me, " he returned, smiling, andglancing down at his bandaged arm, "for I have only one hand at mydisposal. "

"True; how thoughtless I am, " Violet answered, flushing, and, taking apair of scissors that lay upon the table, she easily pried the ringapart, detached the pendant and laid it in his hand. 

"Thank you, " Wallace said, but he was very pale as his fingers closedover the precious gift, and he felt that fate was very cruel to forcehim to keep silent when his heart was so full of a deathless love. "Itis a beautiful little souvenir, and I shall prize it more than I cantell you, Miss Huntington. "

Violet tapped her foot impatiently upon the floor and frowned. 

"Miss Huntington, " she repeated, sarcastically; "how formal! Call meViolet--I do not like to be held at arm's length by my friends. But Mrs. Dean is calling me, and I suppose I must go. I have been very happy herein your home in spite of my illness; I have learned to love your motherdearly, and she has promised to come to see me; will you come with her?"

How sweet and gracious she was! how she tempted him with her beauty andher artless, impulsive ways, and it required all his moral strength toresist her and preserve the secret of his love. 

"I am afraid I cannot, " he replied. 

"Why not?" Violet questioned, in a surprised, hurt tone. 

"You forget that I am but a laborer--I have little time for socialpleasures. "

"But you cannot work now--it will be several weeks yet before your armwill be strong enough to allow you to go back to your duties, " Violetreturned, searching his face intently. 

Wallace flushed hotly; he knew that was a lame excuse to give her; heknew, too, that he must not put himself in the way of temptation; and, believing a straightforward course the wisest, he frankly said:

"Miss--Violet, " faltering a little over the name, but not wishing towound her again by the more formal mode of address, "I do not need totell you, I am sure, how much pleasure it would give me to meet you nowand then, but you well know that poor young men, like myself, are notoften welcome in the home of the rich; indeed, I should feel myself outof place among the fashionable people with whom you mingle. "

"You need not!" Violet exclaimed, earnestly. "I should feel proud tointroduce you to any, or all, of my friends, and I promise that youshall receive a most cordial welcome in my home if you ever honor me byentering it. Now, good-by, Wal--Mr. Richardson, for I must go. "

She held out her hand to him, and he took it in a strong, fondclasp--the first time he had ever held it thus, and the last, he toldhimself--with almost a feeling of despair, for he believed thathenceforth they would go their separate ways and have nothing in common. 

He accompanied her out and helped her into the carriage, but with a keenpain in his heart, as he saw two diamond-like drops fall upon the velvetcushions as she took her seat, and knew that they were tears of regretover this parting. 

The nurse followed her charge, the coachman sprang upon his box, andwith one wave of a white hand, one lingering look from a pair of azureeyes, Violet was gone, and that humble home in Hughes street seemed, toone person at least, like a house in which there had been a death, andfrom which peace and contentment had forever flown. 

There was no one but the servants to welcome Violet home, for Mrs. Mencke had not returned, and the poor girl felt forlorn and desolateenough. 

After bidding the nurse good-by, for the woman had only beencommissioned to see her safely home, she went wearily up to her ownroom, where, after removing her wraps and dismissing her maid, she threwherself upon her bed in a passion of tears, and longing for thecaressing touch of Mrs. Richardson's tender hand and the sound of heraffectionate, motherly voice. 

When Mrs. Mencke finally returned and went to her she found hersleeping, but looking feverish, the tears still upon her cheeks, andwith a mournful droop to her sweet lips that was really pathetic. 

She awoke with a start and found herself gazing up into the handsomeface of her sister. 

"Well, Violet, I suppose you are glad to be at home again, " Mrs. Menckeremarked, cheerfully, but regarding her searchingly. 

Violet gave utterance to a deep sigh, but hesitated before replying. 

"It is very comfortable here, " she at last said, glancing around theluxurious apartment. 

"I should think so, indeed, after the close quarters you have inhabitedof late, " said Mrs. Mencke, with a contemptuous laugh. "Why, theservants' rooms here are better than any portion of that house. "

"Ye-s, but it was very quiet and peaceful and home-like there, andeverything was very neat and clean, " said Violet, with another sigh. 

"Well, everything is neat and clean here also, isn't it?" demanded hersister, sharply, for cleanliness was one of her especial hobbies. 

"Of course; but where have you been, Belle?" Violet asked, anxious tochange the subject, and glancing over her sister's richly clad figure. 

"Oh, to a grand luncheon given by the Lincoln Club, " Mrs. Menckereplied, all animation; "and if you had only been well I certainlyshould have taken you; I don't know when I have attended so brilliant anaffair. But, never mind, you will come out next season, and then we willhave plenty of amusement. "

Violet did not appear to share her sister's eager anticipation of thisevent and Mrs. Mencke was secretly much irritated by her languidindifference. 

"I sincerely hope that beggarly carpenter hasn't had an opportunity toput any nonsense in her head, " she mused. "What a piece of luck!--thatshe happened to be in that car that day. Of course, the fact that hesaved her life has cast a glamour of romance around him--Violet is veryimpressionable--and it may take time to disenchant her. I hope thatnurse was vigilant and did not allow her to see much of him; however, one thing is sure, she won't get a chance to see him henceforth. "

Mrs. Mencke was very confident of her ability to put an end to theacquaintance, but she had yet to learn that there were certain events inlife which she was powerless to control. 

CHAPTER V. 

VIOLET ASSERTS HERSELF. 

Mrs. Richardson never paid Violet her promised visit, for Mrs. Menckerealized almost immediately that something was very wrong about heryoung sister, who appeared strangely listless and unhappy, and she oftenfound her in tears. 

"This will never do, " the worldly woman said, with an energy anddecision that governed all her movements. "I'm not going to have Violetmoping about like a silly, love-sick damsel. "

And after a hasty consultation with the family physician, with scarcelya day's warning, she whisked her off to Saratoga, where she engagedrooms at the Grand Union for two months, and when Mrs. Richardson calledto see her recent patient, she found the elegant mansion on Auburnavenue closed and could not ascertain whither the Menckes had gone. 

The change proved to be very beneficial. Saratoga was, of course, verygay; there was a constant round of pleasure into which Violet was atonce drawn, for Mrs. Mencke was a great lover of society, and she soonbecame interested as any young girl naturally would under the samecircumstances. There was no more moping--there were no more tears;Violet gave herself up, with true girlish abandon, to the allurementsthat presented themselves on every side, became a great favorite amongthe guests of the large hotel, grew round, rosy, happy, and morebeautiful than ever, much to the satisfaction of her sister, whocongratulated herself that the "beggarly young carpenter" was entirelyforgotten. 

Two months were spent at this fashionable resort, then six weeks morewere occupied in visiting other places of interest, and when theyreturned to Cincinnati, about the middle of September, Violet seemedentirely herself once more; she was full of life and spirits, the oldlight of mischief and happiness danced in her beautiful eyes, while shewas planning for and looking forward to the coming season with all thezeal and enthusiasm of a young debutante. 

The day following their arrival at home Violet came in from a round ofcalls that she had been making, and, feeling too weary to go up to herroom just then, she threw herself into a comfortable chair in thelibrary, and took up a paper that lay on the table. 

Almost the first words that caught her eye, and sent a thrill of horrorthrough her, were these:

 "DIED--On the 12th instant, at her home, No. ---- Hughes street, Mary Ida Richardson, aged 48 years and 9 months. Funeral from her late residence, the 14th, at 2 o'clock P. M. "

A cry of pain broke from Violet as she read this. 

Her dear, kind friend dead! Gone away out of the world into eternity, and she would never see her again!

It did not seem possible; she could not believe it. Poor Wallace, too!how desolate he would be! And, bowing her face upon her hands, the younggirl sobbed as if her heart was broken. 

All at once, however, she started to her feet. 

The fact that this was the 14th had suddenly forced itself upon her. Thepaper was two days old. 

Glancing at the clock she saw that it was half-past twelve; but shemight be in time for the last sad services for the dead if she shouldhasten. 

Mrs. Mencke was out, as usual, and Violet was glad of it, for she knewthat she would oppose and might even flatly forbid her going. 

Hastening to her room, she exchanged her elaborate visiting costume fora simple black cashmere, tore a bright feather from a black hat, drew ona pair of black gloves, and thirty minutes later was in the streetagain. 

She hailed the first car that came in sight, and even though she wasobliged to take a second car, she reached Hughes street about twentyminutes of two. 

As she entered the home of the Richardsons she was met by a kind-lookingwoman, a neighbor, whom she had seen once or twice during her illness, and with a quivering lip she begged that she might go into the parlorherself and take a look at her friend before the people began to gather. 

Permission was readily given to her, the woman herself leading the way, and considerately shutting the door so that she might be by herself, asshe took her last look at the dear friend who had been so kind to her. 

Mrs. Richardson must have died suddenly, she thought, for she was notchanged in the least, and lay as if calmly asleep. There was nothingghastly or unpleasant about her. A look of peace and rest was on thesweet face. Her hair had been dressed just as she was in the habit ofwearing it, and a mass of soft lace had been filled into the front ofher dress, while some one had placed a few sprays of mignonette andlilies of the valley in her still hands. 

"Oh, dear Mrs. Richardson, you cannot be dead!" Violet breathed, as shebent over her with streaming eyes. "It is too, too sad; you were sokind, and I had learned to love you so dearly. What will Wallace do? Howcan he bear it?"

She smoothed her soft hair with her trembling fingers, never thinking ofshrinking from the still, cold form, for it was so life-like. She drewthe lace a little closer about the neck, and arranged the flowers lessstiffly in her hands, murmuring fond words and tender regrets while thusengaged. 

But, after a few moments, overcome with her grief, she seated herselfupon a low ottoman behind the casket, and leaned her head against it, weeping silently. 

She was so absorbed by her sorrow that she did not hear the door as itwas softly opened and closed again, and was not conscious that any oneelse was in the room, until she heard a deep, heart-broken sob, and afamiliar voice break forth in the agonized cry:

"Mother! oh, mother!"

Then she realized that Wallace was there, and her heart went forth tohim in loving sympathy, for she knew that he had lost the only nearfriend that he had in the world. 

She did not move for a few moments, however, for she felt that his griefwas too deep and sacred to be disturbed; but after a little he grew morecalm, and then she said, in a low, tremulous tone:

"Wallace, I am so grieved. "

He started, and turned his pale face toward her. 

"Violet!" he exclaimed, astonished. 

"Yes, " she said. "I only came home yesterday, and by the merest chanceread the news of this to-day. Oh, Wallace, she was a dear, dear woman!"

"She was, indeed, " he replied, clasping the hand she extended to him, and feeling inexpressibly comforted by this fair girl's tribute to hisloved one. 

He noticed, and was touched also by the fact, that Violet was all inblack, and he knew that she had robed herself thus out of grief for hisdead. 

"I loved her, " the young girl said, with touching simplicity. Then sheadded: "I know I cannot say anything to comfort you, but, believe me, myheart is full of sorrow for her loss, and of sympathy for you. "

How lovely she was, standing there beside him, her fair face and sunnyhair in such striking contrast with her black dress, and with her azureeyes raised in such heartfelt sympathy to his. 

Her hand still lay in his, for both had unconsciously retained theirclasp after their first greeting, and he knew by her clinging fingershow sincere her sorrow and sympathy were. 

"My darling, I know it; and your presence is inexpressibly comforting tome. "

"My darling!"--he had said it without thinking. 

During all the long weeks that they had been separated he had called herthus to himself, and now the word had slipped from him unawares, and hewould have given worlds to have been able to recall them. 

Violet's white lids fluttered and then drooped consciously, while avivid flush arose to her brow. 

This brought Wallace to his senses. He also colored hotly, and a feelingof dismay took possession of him. There was a dead silence for a moment;then he added, humbly:

"Forgive me; I did not know what I was saying. "

He would have released her hand, but her small fingers closed morefirmly over his; she shot one dazzling gleam of light up at him from herlovely eyes and whispered, shyly:

"I am glad!"

And he knew that she was all his own--that she loved him even as heloved her. 

A great wave of thankfulness, of sacred joy, swept over his soul, onlyto be followed by a feeling of despair, darker and deeper than any hehad yet experienced, for he knew that he should not, must not accept thepriceless boon of her love which she had so freely and so artlesslyyielded to him. 

But there was no time for explanations, for at that moment the door wasopened again, and the woman, Mrs. Keen, whom Violet had met when shefirst came, entered, to make some inquiry of Wallace, and to tell himthat the clergyman had arrived. 

Presently others, neighbors and acquaintances, began to gather, and thenit was time for the service. 

Violet never forgot that simple ceremony, for the clergyman, who knewMrs. Richardson intimately, seemed to glorify the death of the beautifulwoman. 

"She had simply stepped, " he said, "from darkness into light--from toiland care into rest and peace. The vail betwixt her and the Master, whomshe had loved, was lifted; her hitherto fettered soul was free, and inthe light of an eternal day no earthly sorrow, doubt, or trial couldreach her. "

Death, after that, never seemed the cruel enemy that it had previouslyseemed to Violet. 

After it was all over, and Wallace had passed out to his carriage, Mrs. Keen came to the young girl and asked her if she would like to followher friend to the cemetery. 

"If I may, " Violet replied. "She was not a relative, but I loved hervery much. "

"Then come with me, " the woman said, and, as she led the way out, sheexplained that there were no relatives save Mr. Richardson, and itseemed too bad that there should be no one but himself to follow hismother to the grave, and that was why she had asked Violet to go withher. 

The next moment Violet found herself in the carriage with, and seatedopposite to, Wallace. 

A feeling of dismay took possession of her, for she knew that the worldwould criticise her severely for taking such a step. 

She had not dreamed that she would have to ride in the same carriagewith Wallace, and she wondered if he would understand how it hadhappened. 

The matter could not be helped now, however, and for herself she did notcare; her motives had been good and pure; why then need she care for thecriticisms of people?

The ride to Spring Grove Cemetery was a long and sad one, for scarcely aword was spoken either going or returning. Wallace seemed absorbed inhis own sorrowful reflections, Mrs. Keen preserved a prim and gloomysilence, and Violet was thus left to her own thoughts. 

She could not keep from thinking of those few sad yet sweet moments whenshe had stood alone with Wallace by the casket of his mother, and heardhim speak those words which had changed, in one instant, her whole life. 

"My darling, your presence is inexpressibly comforting to me!"

She knew that he had not meant to speak thus, that only a sense of hisown desolation and her unexpected sympathy, had made him forget himself, break down all barriers, and betray the secret of his love. 

It had been an unexpected revelation to her, however; she had notsuspected the nature of his feelings toward her, nor of hers toward him, until then; but now she knew that she loved him--that all the world, with every other blessing and luxury at her command, would be worthlessto her without him to share it. 

When they reached Hughes street again Violet held out her hand toWallace, saying it was so late she must go directly home. 

Then he suddenly came to himself and realized how very tedious the long, silent ride must have been for her. 

"Let me send you home in the carriage, " he said, eagerly. 

"Thank you, no; I will take a car, " Violet replied, so decidedly that hedid not press the matter further. 

It was very late when she reached home, and she found her sister quiteanxious over her prolonged absence. 

"Where have you been, Violet?" she demanded, somewhat impatiently; "itis not the proper thing at all for you to be out so late alone. Mercy!and you are all in black, too; I should think you had been at afuneral. "

"I have; I have been to Mrs. Richardson's funeral, " Violet replied, hottears rushing to her eyes. 

Mrs. Mencke looked startled. 

"Mrs. Richardson!" she repeated. "When did she die?"

"Day before yesterday; and it was all by chance that I saw the notice ofher death in a paper. She died very suddenly of heart disease. "

"I wish I had known it, I would have gone with you, " said Mrs. Mencke, looking disturbed. 

"Would you?" Violet exclaimed, surprised. 

"Yes; it was not proper for you to go alone. "

The young girl's face fell; she had hoped her sister wanted to show thistribute of respect to one who had been so kind to her. 

"Where was she buried?" Mrs. Mencke inquired. 

"At Spring Grove Cemetery. "

"Did you go out there?"

"Yes, " and Violet flushed slightly. 

"With whom did you ride?" demanded her sister, suspiciously. 

"With--Mr. Richardson and a Mrs. Keen. "

"Violet Draper Huntington!" ejaculated Mrs. Mencke, with indignantastonishment, "you did not do such an unheard of thing?"

Violet bridled at this. She was naturally sweet and gentle, but couldshow spirit enough if occasion required. 

"Yes, I did, " she returned, flushing, but tossing her small headdefiantly. "There were no friends excepting Mr. Richardson. Mrs. Keeninvited me to go with her, and, as I wanted to show the dear woman thismark of respect, I went. "

"Don't you know that it was a very questionable act to follow Mrs. Richardson to her grave in the company of her son?" demanded Mrs. Menckesternly. "What do you suppose the people of our set would say to such aproceeding?"

"I presume the people of 'our set' might consider it a questionableact, " Violet returned, with sarcastic emphasis. "Polite society is notsupposed to have much heart, anyway. But, to tell the truth, I thought Iwas to ride in a separate carriage with Mrs. Keen, until I went out andfound Mr. Richardson in it. I was not going to wound him then byrefusing to go; and 'our set, ' if it find it out, can say what itpleases. "

"I most earnestly hope that none of our acquaintances will learn of yourescapade; they would be sure to couple your name very unpleasantly withthat of that low-born carpenter, especially if they should find out thatyou put on mourning, " returned Mrs. Mencke, with an expression ofintense disgust. 

"'Low-born carpenter, ' indeed!" retorted Violet indignantly, andflushing hotly. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Belle Mencke, afterwhat he has done for me? Wallace Richardson is a gentleman in everysense of the word, and I am proud to call him my friend. "

"Perhaps you would be proud to accord him a more familiar title, even. Our friends would be likely to suspect that he was thus favored if theyshould discover what you have done to-day, " sneered the haughty woman. 

Violet blushed vividly at this thrust, and for a moment looked soconscious that her sister became suspicious and secretly alarmed. 

"I don't care, Belle, " Violet said, hotly, after a moment of awkwardsilence, "it would have been very ungrateful in me to stay away and Iwould do the same thing over again to show my regard for dear Mrs. Richardson. Now, if you please, you may let me alone upon the subject. "

"Look here, Miss Violet, you are trying me beyond all bounds, " Mrs. Mencke returned, losing control of her temper; "and now there is justone thing that I want to say to you, and that is that you are to dropthis fellow at once and for all time. I won't have any nonsense orsentiment just because he happened to do what any other man with a germof humanity would have done to save you from a violent death. It is allvery well to feel properly grateful to him, and I intend to pay himhandsomely for it, only I don't want to hear anything more about himfrom you. "

Violet had grown very pale during the latter portion of this speech, andher sister, who was observing her closely, could see that she wastrembling with suppressed emotions. 

"Belle Mencke, " she said, in a husky tone, "do you mean to say that youintend to offer Mr. Richardson money in return for my life?"

"Of course. What else can I do? We must make him some acknowledgment, and people in his station think more of money that of anything else, "was the coarse response. 

"That is false!" cried Violet, with blazing eyes. "Reverse yourstatement, and say that people in your position think more of money thanof anything else, and you would come nearer the truth. Don't you dare toinsult that noble fellow by offering him money; if you do, I will neverforgive you while I live. Make him all the verbal acknowledgments youplease, as will be just and right, but don't forget that he is agentleman. "

Mrs. Mencke saw that she had gone too far, and made an effort to controlherself. She knew, from experience, that when Violet was once thoroughlyaroused it was not an easy matter to tame her. 

"There, Violet, you have said enough, " she remarked, with forcedcalmness. "You are only making yourself ridiculous, and I think we hadbest drop the subject; only one thing I must insist upon, that you willcut this young man's acquaintance at once. "

She arose as she spoke to meet her husband, who entered at that moment, and Violet flew to her own room to remove her black attire, and to easeher aching heart by shedding a few scalding tears, which would not bekept back. 

It was very hard to hear Wallace spoken of so contemptuously when shehad learned to love him with all the strength of her soul, and knew himto be, by nature and in character, far superior to the man whom hersister called husband. 

She did not regret what she had done that day, and she had no idea ofdropping Wallace Richardson's acquaintance. No, indeed! Life would beworth but very little to her now if he were taken out of it; and, thoughshe knew she would have many a vigorous battle to fight with her proudsister if she defied her authority, she had no thought of yielding oneinch of ground, and was prepared to acknowledge Wallace as her betrothedlover when the proper time to do so should come. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A CONFESSION AND ITS REPLY. 

Wallace, in his lonely home, was of course very sad and almost stunnedby the blow that had fallen upon him so suddenly. 

For many years his mother had been the one object upon which he hadlavished the deep, strong affection of his manly nature. He had lost hisfather when but a youth, but Mrs. Richardson had struggled bravely tokeep him at school, and give him as good an education as possible, forhe was a lad possessing more than ordinary capabilities and attainments. By the time, however, that he graduated from the high school in the cityof Boston, Massachusetts, where they were living at that time, theirslender means gave out, and Wallace found that he must relinquish, atleast, for the present, his aspiration to perfect himself as anarchitect, and do something for his own and his mother's support. 

He was but seventeen years of age at this time, but he was a strong, manly fellow, and he resolved to take up the carpenter's trade, muchabout which he already knew, for during his vacations he had oftenworked, from choice, under the direction of his father. 

As he had told Violet, he felt that a practical and thorough knowledgeof the construction of buildings would be of inestimable benefit in thefuture, for he had not by any means given up his intention of ultimatelybecoming an architect. 

He applied to the builder and contractor who had grown up under andsucceeded to the business of his father, and the man readily agreed toengage him, provided he would be willing to go to Cincinnati, where hehad managed to obtain a very large contract, and, for a lad of Wallace'sage, he offered him unusual inducements. 

At first Wallace demurred, for he could not bear the thought of leavinghis mother, and at that time they could not both afford to make thechange. 

But he finally concluded to make the trial, and at the end of six monthshe had made himself so valuable to his employer that the man hadincreased his wages, and promised him still further promotion if hecontinued to progress as he had done. 

This change in his circumstances enabled Wallace to send for his motherand to provide a comfortable little home for her. 

He was very ambitious; every spare moment was spent in study, while healso attended an evening school for drawing, where he could receiveinstruction in his beloved architecture. 

Thus, step by step, he went steadily on, perfecting himself in both histrade and his profession until, at the opening of our story, six yearsafter leaving his native city, Boston, we find him and his mother stillresidents of Cincinnati, and the young man in a fair way to realize theone grand object of his life. 

Already he had executed a number of plans for buildings, which had beenapproved, accepted, and fairly well paid for, while he had applied for, and hoped to obtain, a lucrative position in the office of an eminentarchitect, at the beginning of the new year. 

His accident had interrupted his business for several weeks, but he knewthat he should lose nothing pecuniarily, for the company that controlledthe incline-plane railway had agreed to meet all the expenses of hisillness, and pay him a goodly sum besides; so his enforced idleness hadnot tried his patience as severely as it would have otherwise done. 

Indeed, he had not been idle, for he had devoted a good deal of time, after he was able to be about, to the study of his beloved art. Hisright hand, being only slightly injured he could use quite freely, andhe executed several designs which he was sure would be useful to him inthe future. 

His mother's sudden death, however, was a blow which almost crushed him. He had never thought that she could die at least for long years for shehad apparently been in the enjoyment of perfect health. 

They were sitting together one evening, and had been unusually socialand merry, when Mrs. Richardson suddenly broke off in the middle of asentence, leaned back in her chair as if faint, and before Wallace couldreach her side, her spirit was gone. 

Wallace would not believe that she was dead until the hastily summonedphysician declared that life was entirely extinct and then the heavilyafflicted son felt as if his burden were greater than he could bear. 

He did not look upon that loved face again until the hour of thefuneral, when he went alone into their pretty parlor to take his lastfarewell, and found Violet there before him. 

Her presence there had been "inexpressibly comforting" to him as he hadsaid, and in the sudden reaction and surprise of the moment he hadbetrayed the secret of his love for her. 

He was shocked and filled with dismay when, after his return from thegrave of his mother, he had an opportunity to quietly think over what hehad done. 

He felt that he had been very unwise--that he had no right to aspire tothe hand of the beautiful heiress, for he could offer her nothing buthis true heart, and this, he well knew, would be scorned by Violet'saristocratic relatives. 

Yet, in spite of his remorse, his heart leaped with exultation over theknowledge that the lovely girl returned his affection. She had notspoken her love, but he had seen it in her shy, sweet glance of surpriseand joy at his confession; he had felt it in the clinging clasp of hertrembling fingers, that would not let him release her hand; he had heardit in every tone of her dear voice when she had told him, simply, butheartily, that she "was glad. "

Was she glad to know that she was his "darling, " or only glad becauseher presence was a comfort to him in his hour of trial?

Both, he felt very sure, and he kept repeating those three words overand over until they became sweetest music in his soul. 

But he told himself that he must not accept the priceless gift of herlove. 

"What shall I do?" he cried, in deep distress. "I have compromisedmyself; I have gone too far to retract, and she would deem unmanly if Ishould keep silent and let the matter drop here. "

He sat for hours trying to decide what course to pursue, and finally heexclaimed, with an air of resolution:

"There is no other way but to make a frank explanation--confess mysorrow for my presumption and ask her forgiveness; then I must take upthe burden of my lonely life and bear it as well as I can. "

The next morning, after he had partaken of his solitary breakfast, whicha kind and sympathizing neighbor sent in to him, he sat down to his taskof writing his confession to Violet. 

That evening the fair young girl received the following epistle:

 "My Dear Miss Huntington:--I am filled with conflicting emotions, which it would be vain for me to try to explain, in addressing you thus; but my mother taught me this motto in my youth--and I have endeavored to make it the rule of my life ever since--'If you do wrong confess it and make what reparation you can. ' I realize that I was guilty of great presumption and wrong in addressing you so unguardedly as I did yesterday, when we stood alone by my mother's casket. Pray forgive me, for, while I am bound to confess that the words were forced from me by a true, strong love, which will always live in my heart--a love such as a man experiences but once in his life for a woman whom he would win for his wife, if he could do so honorably--I know that, situated as I am, with a life of labor before me and only my own efforts to help me build up a possible fortune, I should not have betrayed myself as I did. I was unnerved by my great sorrow, and your gentle sympathy, coming as it did like balm to my wounded heart, unsealed my lips before I was aware of it. Again I beg your forgiveness, and with it forgetfulness of aught that could serve to lower me in your esteem. 

 "Sincerely yours, "Wallace Richardson. "

Violet was greatly excited by the contents of this letter, and burstinto a flood of tears the moment she had perused it. 

She understood just how matters stood. 

She comprehended how Wallace had grown to love her, even as she had, though at the time unconsciously, learned to love him while she was aninvalid in his home; how, with his proud, manly sense of honor, he haddetermined never to reveal his secret, from a fear that he would beregarded as a fortune-hunter, and that her aristocratic relatives wouldscorn an alliance with him on account of his poverty. 

But Violet felt that he was her peer, if not her superior, in everyrespect save that of wealth; that a grand future lay before him--grandbecause he would climb to the top-most round in the ladder of hisprofession, if energy, perseverance, and unswerving rectitude couldattain it. 

He might be poor in purse now, but what of that? Money was of littlevalue compared with a nature so rich and noble as his; and, more thanthat--she loved him!

"Yes, I do!" she exclaimed, as she pressed to her lips the preciousletter that told of his love for her. "I am not ashamed of it either, and--I am going to tell him of it. "

A crimson flush mounted to her brow as she gave expression to thisresolution, and, for a moment, a sense of maidenly reserve and timidityoppressed her. The next she tossed back her pretty head with a resoluteair. 

"Why should I not tell him?" she said. "Why should I conceal the factwhen the knowledge will make two true, loving hearts happy? I have moneyenough for us both, for the present, and by and by I know he will havean abundance. I suppose Belle and Wilhelm will object and scold, but Idon't care; it is the right thing to do, and I am going to do it, " andshe proceeded to put her resolution at once into action. 

She drew her writing tablet before her, and, with the tears stillglittering on her lashes and a crimson flush on her cheek, she pennedthe following reply to her lover's letter:

 "Dear Wallace:--Your letter has just come to me. I have nothing to 'forgive'--I do not wish to 'forget. ' Perhaps I am guilty of what the world would call an unmaidenly act in writing thus, when your communication does not really call for a reply, but I know my happiness, and, I believe, yours also, depends upon perfect truthfulness and candor. Your unguarded words by your mother's casket told me that you love me; your letter to-day reaffirms it, and my own heart goes forth in happy response to all that you have told me. 

 "You have made use of the expression, 'presumption and wrong. ' Pardon me if I claim that you would have been guilty of a greater wrong by keeping silent. Heaven has ordained that somewhere on this earth each heart has its mate, and there would be much less of secret sorrow, much less of domestic misery, if people would be honest with each other and true to themselves. How many lives are ruined by the worship of mammon--by the bondage of position! Perhaps I might be accused of 'presumption'--of offending against all laws of so-called etiquette, in making this open confession. However it may seem, I am going to be true to myself, and my convictions of what is right, and so I have opened my heart to you. Still, if in writing thus, I have done aught that can lower me in your esteem, I pray you to forgive and forget. 

 "Violet Huntington. "

Violet would not allow herself to read over what she had written. 

She had penned the note out of the honesty and fullness of her fondlittle heart; and, though she stood for a moment or two irresolute, debating whether to tear it into pieces and thus cast her happinessforever from her with the fragments, or to send it and trust toWallace's good sense to interpret it aright, her good angel touched thebalance in her favor, and she resolutely sealed and addressed themissive. 

Then she stole softly down stairs and out to the street corner, whereshe posted it with her own hands, after which she sped back to herchamber and relieved her sensitive heart in another burst of tears. 

She would not have been human if she had not regretted her act, now thatit was past recall. She grew nervous and self-abusive, declared that shehad been unmaidenly, and made herself as wretched as possible. 

She dared not think what would be the result of her letter. WouldWallace despise her for unsexing herself and almost proposing to him?Would he, with his exaggerated ideas of honor still claim that it wouldbe unmanly to accept the love which she had so freely offered him?

Thoughts such as these occupied her waking hours up to the followingafternoon, when she expected a letter from Wallace, and was deeplydisappointed when none came. 

Mr. And Mrs. Mencke had gone out to make some social calls, and Violetwas striving to divert her mind from the all-important theme, by goingover her music lesson for to-morrow. It was useless, however; there wasno music in her--everything was out of harmony, and her fingers refusedto do their work. 

She then tried to read, but her mind was in such a chaotic state thatwords had no meaning for her, and she finally grew so nervous that shecould do nothing but pace up and down the room. 

The hours slowly dragged on, evening came, and she was upon the point ofgoing up stairs to bed, when a sudden ring at the door-bell made herstart with a feeling of mingled shame and joy. 

She listened breathlessly, while a servant went to answer the summons, and then heard her usher some one in the drawing-room. 

A moment later the girl appeared in the library doorway, bearing a cardon a silver salver. 

"A caller for you, Miss Violet, " she said, as she passed her the bit ofpasteboard. 

Violet grew dizzy, then the rich color surged over cheek and brow, asshe read the name of Wallace Richardson, written upon the spotlesssurface in a beautiful, flowing hand. 

CHAPTER VII. 

"HE IS MY AFFIANCED HUSBAND. "

Violet stood as if dazed for a moment, after reading her lover's name, and realized that he had come in person to reply to her letter, hercheeks fairly blazing with mingled joy and agitation, her heartfluttering like a frightened bird in its cage. 

Then she grew pale with a sudden fear and dread. 

What would be the outcome of this interview?

Would it bring her happiness or sorrow?

With trembling limbs, and a face that was as white as the delicate laceabout her throat, she went slowly toward the drawing-room to learn herfate. 

Wallace, no less nervous and perturbed than herself, was pacing theelegant apartment, but stopped and turned eagerly toward Violet as sheentered, his face luminous in spite of the stern self-control which hehad resolved to exercise. 

All the light died out of it however as he saw how pale she was. 

"Violet!--Miss Huntington! are you ill?" he cried, regarding heranxiously. 

Again the rich color surged up to her brow at the sound of his dearvoice, for the tremulous tenderness in it told her that his heart wasall her own, and her elastic spirits rebounded at once. 

She shot a shy, sweet glance up into his earnest face, a witching littlesmile began to quiver about her lovely lips, then she said, half-saucily, but with charming confusion:

"No--I am not ill; I--was only afraid that I had done somethingdreadful. Have I?"

All the worldly wisdom, with which the young man had tried to armhimself, in order to shield the girl whom he so fondly loved from rashlydoing what she might regret later, gave way at that, and before he wasaware of what he was doing he had gathered her close in his arms. 

"My darling! no, " he said; "you have done only what was true and noble, and I honor you with my whole soul. If all women were one-half asingenuous there would be, as you have said, less misery in the world. But so many are simply worldly-wise--thinking more of wealth andposition than they do of true affection, that their hearts starve, theirlives are warped and ruined. Violet, my heart's dearest, how shall Itell you of my heart's great love? I cannot tell it--I shall have to leta life-time of devotion attest it, but you have glorified my wholefuture by assuring me of your affection. "

"Oh, I was afraid you would think me very bold--that you would regard mewith contempt, " Violet sighed, tremulously. "After my letter had gone, and I tried to think over what I had written more calmly, and to wonderhow you would regard it, I was almost sorry that I had sent it. "

"'Almost, ' but not really sorry?" questioned Wallace, with a fond smile. 

"No, for I had to tell you the truth, if I told you anything, and no onecan be sorry for being strictly candid, " she returned, "and, " with aresolute uplifting of her pretty head, while she looked him straight inthe eyes, "why should I not tell you just what was in my heart? Why doesthe world think that a woman must never speak, no matter if she ruinstwo lives by her silence? You told me that you loved me, although youdid not ask me if I returned your affection; but I knew that my lifewould be ruined if I did not make you understand it. I do love you, Wallace, and I will not be ashamed because I have told you of it. "

The young man was deeply moved by this frank, artless confession. Heknew there was not a grain of indelicacy or boldness in it; it wassimply a truthful expression of a pure and noble nature, the spontaneousoutburst of a holy affection responding to the sacred love of his ownheart, and the avowal aroused a profound reverence for an ingenuousnessthat was as rare as it was perfect. 

He bent down and touched his lips to her silken hair. 

"There is no occasion, " he said, earnestly, "and you have changed all mylife, my dear one, by adopting such a straightforward course. Still, " headded, with a slight smile, "I did not come here intending to tell youjust this, or with the hope that our interview would result in such openconfessions. "

"Did you not?" Violet asked, quickly, and darting a startling look athim. 

"No, love; nay, rest content just where you are, " he said, as she wouldhave withdrawn herself from his encircling arms, "for you may be verysure I shall never give you up after this; but your letter must beanswered in some way; I knew that we must come to some finalunderstanding, and though truth would not allow me to disavow my lovefor you, yet I wished you to realize fully that I would not presume totake advantage of anything which you might have written upon the impulseof the moment. I would not claim any promise of you which you mightregret when you should come to think of it more calmly; while, too, Iwished to assure myself that your friends would sanction your decision, and absolve me from any desire to take a dishonorable advantage of you. I would win you fairly, my Violet, or not at all. "

Violet flushed at this. 

"Did you expect to obtain the sanction of my sister or her husbandto--to our engagement?" she asked. 

"I did not come expecting to gain anything that I wanted, " Wallacereturned, smiling, "for I had resolved not to take you at your worduntil I had assured myself that you fully understood all that it wouldinvolve; then, of course, I knew that the proper thing for me to dowould be to ask their consent to our betrothal. "

"And you intend to do this now?" Violet questioned. 

"Certainly. You are not of age, are you, dear?"

"No; but, Wallace, they will never sanction it, " Violet said, withburning cheeks, but thinking it best to prepare him for the worst at theoutset. 

"Because of my present poverty and humble position?" he question, gravely. 

"Yes, and money is their idol, " the young girl frankly answered. 

"Then, Violet, I do not think it will be right for me to bind you by anypromise to become my wife, until I have earned a position and acompetence that will meet their approval and warrant me in asking foryour hand. "

Violet put him a little from her, and stood erect and proud before him. 

"You do not need to bind me by any promise, " she said, in a low, thrilling tone, "for when I gave you my love, I gave you myself as well. I am yours while I live. In confessing my love for you, I have virtuallybound myself to you, and even if I am never your wife in name, I shallbe in soul until I die. You can ask the sanction of my sister and herhusband, as a matter of form. I know they will not give it; but theyhave no moral right to come between us--they never shall! They are veryproud and ambitious; they hope"--and Violet colored crimson at theconfession--"to marry me to some rich man; but my heart and my hand aremine to bestow upon whom I will; and, Wallace, they are yours, now andforever. "

Wallace regarded her with astonishment, while he wondered if there wasever so strange a betrothal before. 

He had asked no promise, but he felt that she could not have been moresurely bound to him if their marriage vows had already beenpronounced--at least, as far as her fidelity to him was concerned. 

"I am young, I know, " Violet went on, after a moment--"I am not yetquite eighteen--and Wilhelm is my guardian. He can control my fortuneuntil I am twenty-one; but that need make no difference with ourrelations. You will be true to me, I know, and I do not need to assureyou of my own faithfulness, I am sure. Meantime you will be working upin your profession, and when I do reach my majority and come intopossession of my money, I can do as I like, without asking the consentof any one. "

"My faithful, true-hearted little woman, I had no idea there was suchreserve force beneath your gay, laughing exterior, " Wallace returned, tenderly. "What a royal gift you have bestowed upon me, my darling! Iaccept it reverently, gratefully, and pledge you my faith in return, while I do not need to assure you that I will not spare myself instriving to win a name and a position worthy to offer my heart's queen. You have changed the whole world for me, " he continued, with emotion. "Iam no longer alone, and you have armed me with a zeal and courage, tobattle with the future, such as I should never have known under othercircumstances. My darling, I take your promise with your love, and whenthe right time comes I shall claim my wife. "

He drew her to his breast again, and lifting her sweet face to his, hetouched her lips with a fond and reverent betrothal kiss. 

"Humph! Pray, Miss Violet, allow me to inquire how long you have beenposing for this interesting tableau?"

This question, in the gruff, sarcastic tones of Wilhelm Mencke, burstupon the lovers like an unexpected thunderclap, and, starting to herfeet, Violet turned to find her sister's husband standing not six feetfrom her. 

Mrs. Mencke seemed rooted just inside the doorway, apparently tooparalyzed by the scene which she had just witnessed to utter a word, while there was an indescribable expression of anger and disgust uponher handsome face. 

For a moment Violet was so astonished and confused she could not utter aword; then, with that slight uplifting of her fair head which those whoknew her best understood to indicate a gathering of all the force of herwill, she quietly remarked, though a burning flush mounted to her brow:

"Ah, Wilhelm! I thought you and Belle had gone out for the evening. "

"No doubt; and you had planned to enjoy yourself in your own way, itseems, " sneered the angry master of the house, as he glared savagely atWallace, who now arose and advanced to Violet's side. 

"Stop, if you please, Wilhelm, " the young girl said, as he seemed aboutto go on, and her clear tones rang out warningly. "When you went out Ihad no thought of receiving visitors; but of that I will speak with youlater. Allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Richardson. Mr. Richardson, my brother-in-law, Mr. Mencke; my sister you have already met. "

Wallace bowed courteously, while he marveled at Violet's remarkableself-possession; but neither Mr. Mencke nor his wife acknowledged theintroduction otherwise than by bestowing a malignant look upon him, andthis slight aroused all Violet's spirit to arms. 

"Friend!" repeated Mr. Mencke; "one would naturally judge from thetouching scene just enacted that the young man sustained a much nearerrelation to you. "

"He does!" flashed out Violet, as she boldly faced both the intruders, and reckless of the consequences of the avowal; "he is my affiancedhusband!"

"Violet!" almost screamed her sister, as she sprang forward and seizedthe young girl by the arm. "Are you crazy?"

"Pardon me, madame, " said Wallace, courteously, as he advanced towardthe group, "and pray give me your attention for a moment while I explainwhat may seem an unpardonable intrusion, and for which I am wholly toblame. "

"No, " interrupted Violet, releasing herself from her sister's grasp; "Ialone am responsible for what has occurred this evening. Mr. Richardson, in an unguarded moment, revealed to me the fact that he entertained anaffection for me such as I have long known, exists in my own heart forhim. I responded to it----"

"Shameless girl!" ejaculated Mrs. Mencke, in an angry tone. 

"No, Belle, I am not a shameless girl. I simply gave truthful expressionto an attachment in return for a confession that gave me greathappiness, and notwithstanding that Mr. Richardson told me he would notbind me by any promise until, as he expressed it, he should be in asuitable position to warrant him in asking my hand of you, I told himoutright that my acknowledgment of affection was as binding with me asany promise----"

"Mr. And Mrs. Mencke, " Wallace now interposed, "I cannot allow yoursister to assume the responsibility of all this, for it is really myplace to shield her. I love her with all the strength of my nature, andI now formally ask you, as her guardians, to sanction the compact wehave made this evening. "

"Never!" emphatically retorted Mrs. Mencke, in her haughtiest tone. 

"It is not worth while to discuss such an impossible proposition, andyou will best suit us, young man, by making yourself scarce without moreado, " supplemented Mr. Mencke, with a menacing air. 

"Belle! Wilhelm!--do you call yourself a lady, a gentleman, and dare toinsult a friend of mine in your own house?" cried Violet, quivering withindignation, her eyes glittering like coals of fire. 

Mrs. Mencke began to realize that they were arousing a spirit whichmight be difficult to manage; consequently she deemed it advisable toadopt a different course. 

"We have no wish to insult any one, Violet, " she began, with dignity, but in a more conciliatory tone; "but of course we are very muchastonished by such a declaration as you have just made, and you a merechild yet----"

"I believe you were married at eighteen, Belle; I shall be eighteen intwo months, " Violet quietly interrupted, but with a roguish gleam in herblue eyes. 

Mrs. Mencke colored. 

She had by no means forgotten the circumstances connected with her ownmarriage, which had been an elopement, because of a stern parent'sobjections to the man of her choice; though this fact was not known inthe circle where she now moved. 

"Well, you will not marry at eighteen, " she answered, tartly. 

"Perhaps not; indeed, I have no desire to, but when I do, Mr. Richardsonwill be the man whom I shall marry, and I want the matter understoodonce for all, " Violet returned, with a gravity which betrayed herunalterable determination. 

"You had best put the child to bed, Belle, and I will show this youngcarpenter the way out, " Mr. Mencke remarked, contemptuously, as if hereally regarded Violet's assertion as simply the iteration of a willfulchild. 

Violet shot him a look that made him wince; then turning, she laid herhand upon Wallace's arm. 

"It is a shame!" she said, with quivering lips. "I blush that relativesof mine can stoop to offer any one such indignity. Forgive me that I ampowerless to help it. "

"I have nothing to forgive, and I have everything to honor you for, Violet; but it is best that I should go now, and we will settle thismatter later, " the young man replied, in a fond yet regretful tone. 

It had been very hard to stand there and preserve his self-control; butfor her sake he had borne all in silence. 

"You will never give me up?" the young girl pleaded, her small fingersclosing over his arm appealingly. 

He took her hand in a strong yet gentle clasp. 

"No, never, until you yourself ask it, " he said, firmly. 

"That I shall never do. Do you hear, Belle, Wilhelm?" she cried, turningdefiantly to them. "I have given Wallace my promise that I will be hiswife, and he has said that he will never give me up. Just so sure as Ilive, I shall fulfill that promise. "

Mrs. Mencke lost control of herself entirely at this. 

"Violet Huntington!" she cried, white to her lips with rage, "you willat once retract that rash vow or this house is no longer your home. "

"Mrs. Mencke, let me entreat that the subject be dropped for thepresent, " Wallace here interposed. "Believe me, I shrink from being thecause of any disturbance in your household, and since this union, whichappears to cause you such uneasiness, cannot be consummated for sometime yet, I beg that you will not distress your sister nor yourself byfurther threats. "

"I will drop the subject when you both agree to cancel this foolishengagement. Give me your word of honor that you will never claim thefulfillment of Violet's rash promise to you, and I will drop the matterand be glad to do so. "

"I cannot promise you that, " Wallace firmly replied, though he had grownvery pale as he realized how determined they were to separate them. "Ilove your sister, and if she is of the same mind in the future, when Ican feel justified in claiming her, I shall certainly make her my wife. "

"And you know me well enough, Belle, to be sure that I shall notchange--that I shall not retract one word that I have said to-night, "Violet added, with no less firmness than her lover had manifested. 

"I know that you are a rash and obstinate girl, but you will find that Ican be just as relentless as yourself, and you will make me the promiseI demand or this house can no longer be your home, " Mrs. Mencke sternlyretorted. 

"I shall never make it, " Violet reiterated, with white lips, while shelooked up into her lover's face with such an expression of affection andtrust that he longed to take her to his heart and bear her away at oncefrom such unnatural guardianship. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

"I'LL BREAK HER WILL!"

Mr. Mencke here interposed. When his wife's temper was aroused she wasliable to be rash and unreasonable. He thought if they could but get ridof Wallace they could perhaps coax Violet into a more pliable frame ofmind. 

He turned to the young man, and said, sternly:

"We have had enough of this for to-night, but I will confer with youlater about this matter. "

Wallace bowed a courteous, but dignified, assent to this broad hint totake his departure. 

He bade Violet good-night in a low tone, tenderly pressing her handbefore releasing it, then, after a polite bow to Mrs. Mencke, which shedid not deign to notice, he walked with a firm, manly bearing from thehouse, bidding its master a gentlemanly good-evening at the door. 

In spite of her rage against Violet and her poverty-stricken lover, Mrs. Mencke could not help admiring the latter's self-possessed exit, whileshe secretly confessed that "the fellow was uncommonly good-looking. "

When the door had closed after him, she turned again to her sister. 

"Violet, I am scandalized----" she began, when that young ladyinterrupted her. 

"There is no need, I assure you, Belle, " she said, coldly. "I confess Iwould have preferred that you did not see us just as you did, but I havebeen guilty of nothing which should cause you to feel scandalized. Wemay as well understand each other first as last, and you may as wellmake up your mind to the inevitable, for, if I live, I shall marryWallace Richardson. If I cannot do so legally until I am of age, I shallwait until then, and you know, Belle, when I take a stand like this, Imean it. "

With this parting shaft Violet, with uplifted head and flashing eyes, walked deliberately from her sister's presence and up to her own room. 

"The little vixen will do it, Belle, as sure as you live, " remarkedWilhelm Mencke, who had returned to the drawing-room in season to catchthe latter portion of Violet's remarks. 

"She shall not!" cried his wife, angrily. "Marry that low-born carpenterwho has to labor with his hands for daily bread! Never!"

"I do not see how you are going to help it; you know she has the grit ofa dozen common women in that small body, and a will of iron, " repliedMr. Mencke. 

"Then I'll break her will! I came of a resolute stock, too, and it willbe Roman against Roman, with the advantage on my side. She shall nevercompromise herself, nor us, by any such misalliance. "

Mr. Mencke looked a trifle sheepish at this spirited speech. He couldnot forget, if his wife did, that some fourteen years previous he hadbeen as badly off, if not worse, than this young carpenter. He had beena laborer in the employ of Miss Belle Huntington's father, and she hadnot felt that she was compromising herself or her parents by marryinghim, and the wealthy pork-packer's daughter had run away with the manwhom she loved. 

"What will you do to prevent it?" he asked, after a few moments ofawkward silence. "The girl can marry him any day if she takes a notion;the will says we are to be the guardians of the property 'until she istwenty-one or marries. ' It would make it rather awkward for me if sheshould, for her husband would have the right to demand her fortune, and--Belle, the duse would be to pay if I should lose my hold on thatmoney. "

"What is the matter, Will?" demanded Mrs. Mencke looking startled. 

"Hum--nothing much, only--it is so mixed up with my own affairs it wouldcripple me to have to fork it over on short notice, " Mr. Mencke replied, looking exceedingly glum. 

"You may rest satisfied upon one point; you will never have to surrenderit to that fellow, " his wife returned, decisively. "I will send Violetto a convent first, and she would be kept straight enough there. "

"That is well thought of Belle, " said her husband, eagerly, his usuallystolid face lighting up greedily. "It would never do, though, to sendher to one here; suppose we get her off to Montreal, where there will beno one to interfere; we can keep her there as long as we like, andmeantime I will make Cincinnati too hot to hold that youngster. "

"We will do it, Will, and she shall stay there until she promises togive up this silly love affair. "

"You are a very conscientious and affectionate sister, Belle, " said herhusband, with a sarcastic laugh. "What do you suppose Eben Huntingtonwould say to----"

"Hush!" returned Mrs. Mencke, with an authoritative gesture, "that is asecret that must never be breathed aloud; but all things are fair inlove and war, and to Montreal and into a convent Violet shall go withoutdelay. "

But if Mrs. Mencke could have caught a glimpse of the white, resoluteface of her young sister, as she stood at that moment just outside thedrawing-room door, she might not have felt quite so confident of herpower to carry out her project. 

Violet, after leaving Mrs. Mencke, intended to go at once to her room, but upon reaching the top of the stairs, she remembered that she hadleft upon the piano, in the library, Wallace's letter, in a book thatshe had been reading. 

Not wishing other eyes than her own to peruse it, she stole quietly downagain to get it, and happened to pass the drawing-room door just as hersister made her threat to send her to a convent. 

She had always had a horror of convent life, and though Mrs. Mencke hadbeen educated at one, Violet would never consent to go to one, and hadattended the public schools of the city, until she graduated from thehigh school, after which she spent a year at a noted institution inColumbus, "to finish off. "

She was greatly agitated as she listened to the conversation of her twoguardians, and she wondered how they could scheme so against her. It wascruel, heartless. There had never been open warfare between them before, though Violet had not always been so happy as young girls usually are. There was much about her home-life that was not congenial, but she wasnaturally gentle and affectionate, and, where principle was not atstake, she would yield a point rather than create dissension. Occasionally, however, there would arise a question of conscience, andthen she had shown the "grit" and "will of iron" of which Mr. Mencke hadspoken. 

Mrs. Mencke arose as she made her last remark, and Violet, fearing to befound eavesdropping, sped noiselessly on into the library, where shesecured her book and letter; then fleeing by a door opposite the one shehad entered, and up a back stair-way, she reached her own room withoutexciting the suspicion of any one that she had overheard the plotconcerning her. 

Locking herself in, she sat down at once and wrote all that she hadoverheard to Wallace, telling him that she should certainly grieveherself to death if she was immured in a convent, and asking him whatshe should do in this emergency. 

She informed him that she should take a German lesson at three the nextafternoon, and begged him to meet her in the pupils' reception-parlor ofthe institute at four o'clock. 

She was so wrought up that she could not sleep, and tossed restlesslymost of the night, while she wondered why Belle and Wilhelm were socruel to her, and what the secret was to which Belle had referred; shehad not, until then, been aware that there was anything mysteriousconnected with their family history. 

She arose very early the next morning, and stole forth to post herletter, long before any of the household were astir, after which shecrept back to bed and fell into a heavy, dreamless slumber, which lasteduntil late in the forenoon. 

Wallace received Violet's letter by the morning post, and was greatlyexercised over it. 

At four o'clock precisely he entered the pupils' reception-room at theinstitute where Violet took German lessons, and was thankful to find noone there before him. 

Presently Violet entered, looking pale and unhappy. She sprang towardher lover, and laid two small hot hands in his, while she lifted a pairof sad, appealing eyes to him. 

"What shall I do, Wallace?" she cried, with quivering lips. "I will notgo to Montreal, and yet I know they are determined to make me. "

"Your sister or her husband has no right to insist upon your going intoa convent, if you do not wish to do so, " Wallace returned, gravely. 

"But they are my guardians; I have no other home, no other friends; theyhave the care of my money and I have to go to them for everything Iwant. I do not expect they will tell me that they are going to take meto a convent unless I will submit to them--they are too wise for that;they will plan to go on a journey, say they are going to shut up thehouse, and I must of course go with them; then when they get to Montrealthey will force me into a convent, " Violet said, excitedly. 

"I cannot believe that they would do anything so underhanded anddishonorable, " said Wallace, greatly shocked. 

"They will, " Violet persisted, excitedly. "Belle said 'anything was fairin love and war, ' and when she gets aroused, as she was last night, shestops at nothing. Then, too, she hinted at some secret, and I am greatlytroubled over it. "

"Violet, " began Wallace, solemnly, as he bent to look into her face, while he held her hands in almost a painful clasp, "are you sure thatyou love me--that you will never regret the promise that you made melast night? You are very young, you have seen but little of the world, and a larger experience might cause you to change by and by. "

Violet's delicate fingers closed over his spasmodically. 

"Wallace! you are not sorry! Oh, do not tell me that you regret, andthat I am to lose you, " she pleaded, almost hysterically. 

"My darling, " he answered, with gentle fondness, "you are all the worldto me, and if I should lose you, I should lose all that makes lifedesirable; but I wish you to count the cost of your choice and not makeenemies of your only friends, to regret it later. "

"No, Wallace--no! I shall not regret it. I love you with my whole heart, and--I shall die if we are separated, " Violet concluded, with a patheticlittle sob that went straight to her lover's heart. 

His face grew luminous with a great joy; he knew then that she belongedto him for all time. 

"Then listen, love, " he said; and bending, he placed his lips close toher ear, and whispered for a minute or two. 

Violet listened, while a strange, wondering expression grew on her fairface, and a burning blush mounted to her brow and lost itself among therings of soft, golden hair that lay clustering there. 

She was very grave, almost awe-stricken, when he concluded, and then shestood for a moment silently thinking. 

"Yes, " she said, softly, at last, and dropped her face upon the handsthat were still clasping hers. 

They stood thus for another moment, then Wallace led her to a seat, andsitting down beside her, they conversed in repressed tones for some timelonger. 

Violet reached home just as her sister returned from making calls. 

"Where have you been, Violet?" Mrs. Mencke asked, suspiciously. 

"To take my German lessons, " the girl responded, with a sigh. 

Her heart was heavy and sore, and she longed for love and sympathyinstead of sour looks and words. 

"Your term is nearly ended, isn't it?" Mrs. Mencke continued, as theyentered the house together. 

"I have one lesson more, " said Violet. 

"Come in here; I want to talk with you, " her sister rejoined, as she ledthe way into the drawing-room. 

Violet followed, with flushing cheeks and eyes that began to glitterominously. Her spirit was leaping forth to meet the trial in store forher. 

"I have been thinking, " Mrs. Mencke began, throwing herself into a chairand trying to speak in an offhand way, "that another little trip woulddo us all good. Will has business that calls him to Canada, and hethinks he would like company on the journey; so we have decided tocombine business and pleasure, and take in all the sights on the way. Heis to start a week from Wednesday, and we can easily be ready toaccompany him by that time. What do you say, Vio?"

Violet thought a moment, then meeting her sister's eye with a steadyglance, she briefly replied:

"I do not wish to go. "

Mrs. Mencke flushed. She did not like that quiet tone. 

"I am sorry, " she returned, "for we have decided to shut up the houseduring our absence, and I could not think of leaving you behind. "

"Nevertheless, Belle, I shall not go with you to Montreal, " Violetanswered, steadily. 

"Who said anything about Montreal?" quickly demanded Mrs. Mencke, andregarding her sharply. 

"I may as well be straightforward with you, Belle, " Violet continued, "and tell that I know just what you have planned to do, and I am notgoing to Montreal to be placed in a convent!"

"Violet!" ejaculated the startled woman, with a crimson face. 

"You need not attempt to deny anything, " the young girl continued, calmly, "for I overheard you and Will planning it last night. I camedown to get something that I had left in the library, and as I waspassing through the hall I heard you say you would send me to a convent. Of course, having learned that much, I was bound to hear all I could ofthe plan. "

Mrs. Mencke looked blank over this information for a moment; then hertemper getting the better of her, she burst forth into a torrent ofreproaches and abuse. 

Violet sat with quietly folded hands and did not attempt to interrupther; but finally the woman grew ashamed of the sound of her angry voiceand words and ceased. 

"Are you through, Belle?" Violet then inquired, in a cold, strangelycalm tone. 

"Well, you have driven me nearly to distraction by the way you havecarried on of late, " Mrs. Mencke said, apologetically. 

"I think I have had something to bear as well from you, " the young girlreturned; "but I am no longer a child to be taken hither and thitheragainst my will. If you and Will wish to take a trip to Canada you cando so by yourselves. I shall not accompany you. "

"What will you do--remain in Cincinnati and meet that vulgar carpenteron the sly, I suppose, " retorted her sister, angrily. 

"I can go to Mrs. Bailey's. Nellie has long been wishing me to spend afew weeks with her. "

"And she will aid and abet you in your love-making, perhaps youimagine, " sneered Mrs. Mencke. "No, miss; you will go with us, whetheryou want to or not, and you will also go into a convent, where you willremain until you give me your solemn promise to relinquish all thoughtsof ever marrying that low-born Yankee. "

Violet arose at this point and stood pale and erect before her sister. 

"Belle, I shall not go to Montreal. I will not be forced to go anywhereagainst my inclination, " she said, with a resoluteness that betrayed anunalterable purpose. "I know that you and Will were appointed myguardians, and that I shall not reach my majority for three years yet;but I know, too, that there is some redress for such abuse of authorityas you are attempting to exercise, and if you persist in thiscourse--much as I shall dislike the notoriety of such a proceeding--Ishall appeal to the courts to set you aside and appoint some one in yourplace. You said last night that it would be 'Roman against Roman' inthis matter. You said truly; and hereafter, Belle, you will have to meetme in an entirely different spirit before you and I can ever be upon theold footing again. I hope, at least, that you now understand, once forall, that I shall not accompany you and Wilhelm upon any trip. "

She turned and walked with quiet dignity from the room as she ceasedspeaking, leaving Mrs. Mencke looking both startled and confounded bythe resolute and unexpected stand that she had taken regarding herguardianship. 

"Where on earth can she have found out about that point of law?" shemuttered, angrily. "Some more of that carpenter's doings, I suppose. "

She sat for some time absorbed in thought; but finally her face cleared, and rising she rang the bell. 

The housemaid answered it almost immediately. 

"Tell James to put the horses back into the carriage as quickly aspossible, as I have forgotten something and must go immediately to thecity again, " she commanded, as she rearranged her wrap. 

In less than ten minutes she was on her way, not back to the city, butto call upon an intimate friend in Eden Park. 

CHAPTER IX. 

VIOLET BECOMES A PRISONER. 

Mrs. Alexander Hartley Hawley, as she was always particular to write hername, was much the same type of a woman as Mrs. Mencke, but with theadvantage of not possessing such an exceedingly high temper. 

She was more suave and insinuating in her manner, and where she had adifficult object to attain she always strove to win by strategy ratherthan to antagonize her opponents by attempting to drive. 

She also was intensely proud and tenacious of caste--a leader in societyand a great stickler regarding outward appearance. 

In the old days, when Mrs. Mencke had so offended against upper-tendomby eloping with the poor clerk in her father's employ, Mrs. Hawley haddropped her from her extensive list of acquaintances; but after Mr. Huntington's death, when the young couple came into possession of ahandsome inheritance, the former friendship was renewed and theirintimacy, if anything, had been closer than during their youthful days. 

To this friend and ally, who resided among the glories of Eden Park, Mrs. Mencke now repaired to ask her advice regarding what course topursue with Violet in her present unmanageable mood. 

She frankly confided everything to her, and concluded her revelation byremarking, with an anxious brow:

"I am at my wits' end, Althea, and have come to ask your help in thisemergency. "

"Certainly, Belle, I will do all in my power to help you, " Mrs. Hawleyreplied, eagerly, for she dearly loved to exercise her diplomatictalents, "but I fear that will not be much, for we have decided, quitesuddenly, to sail for Europe the tenth of next month. "

"Yes, I learned of your plans to-day through Mrs. Rider, and when Violetgot upon her stilts, on my return from my calls, it suddenly occurred tome that perhaps if the matter was rightly managed and you would not mindthe care for a while, she would accept an invitation from you to travelin Europe for a time. I would appear to oppose it at first, butgradually yield to your persuasions, and, later, I would myself join youabroad and relieve you of your charge. Once get her across the Atlantic, and it will be an easy matter to keep her there until she comes to ourterms. "

Mrs. Hawley readily lent herself to this scheme. 

"It would be a great pity, " she said, with a little intentional venompointing her words, "to have Violet sacrifice herself and compromise herposition by rashly marrying this low carpenter; and, " she added, eagerly, "I should be delighted to have her with me--she is excellentcompany, while, as you know, I am quite fond of her, and it will be theeasiest thing in the world to persuade her to go with us. "

"Do you think so?" Mrs. Mencke asked, somewhat doubtfully, for she beganto stand a little in awe of her young sister's rapidly developingdecision of character. 

"Yes; Violet and Nellie Bailey are quite intimate, are they not?" Mrs. Hawley asked. 

"Yes; they were firm friends all through their high-school course, andhave visited each other a good deal since, " returned Mrs. Mencke. 

"Well, then, Mrs. Bailey came to me yesterday, asking if I would act aschaperon to Nellie, who has long wanted to spend a year in Milan tostudy music, and, as I readily granted her request, Miss Nellie will bemy companion during at least a portion of my tour. "

"I do not believe Violet knows anything about it, " Mrs. Mencke replied. 

"Very likely not; for her mother told me she had said nothing toNellie--that she did not wish to arouse hopes to disappoint them, untilshe could arrange for a proper escort for her, " Mrs. Hawley explained. "But, " she added, "she probably knows it by this time. However, I amgoing to call there this evening, to arrange our plans a little, andwill come around to your house later. I will try to bring Nellie withme. She will be full of the trip, and doubtless express a wish thatViolet could go with her; and I will second her wishes by at onceinviting her to make one of our party. In this way we can bring it aboutwithout appearing to have thought of such a thing before. "

Mrs. Mencke was greatly pleased with this plan, and after discussing ita while longer, she took leave of her friend, and returned home with alightened heart. 

She met Violet at dinner-time, as if nothing unpleasant had occurred, and did not once refer to the Canada expedition, or any otherdisagreeable subject. 

About seven o'clock Mrs. Hawley made her appearance, and, greatly toMrs. Mencke's delight, she was accompanied by Nellie Bailey. 

"Oh, Vio!" exclaimed that elated young lady, after the first greetingswere exchanged, "I have the most delightful piece of news to tell you. "

Violet looked interested immediately. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"I am going to Europe next month, " Nellie replied, with a face allaglow. 

"Going to Europe!" Violet repeated, with a look of dismay; for her heartsank at the thought that she was about to lose her only friend. 

"Yes; mamma has finally consented to let me have a year of music atMilan, and Mrs. Hawley, who is also going broad, has consented to takeme under her friendly wing. 

"Going for a year!" sighed Violet. "What shall I do without you?"

"Oh, it will soon slip by, " said the happy girl, to whom the comingtwelve months would seem all too short. "Of course I shall miss youdreadfully. I only wish you were going too. Wouldn't it be justdelightful?"

"Yes, indeed. And why not?" here interposed Mrs. Hawley, who appeared tohave been suddenly arrested, by this remark, in the midst of an accountof a brilliant reception, which she was giving to Mrs. Mencke. "You knowI am fond of your company, and should like nothing better than to havetwo bright girls with me. Belle, let me take Violet, too. She ought tohave a nice trip abroad, now that she is out of school. "

Mrs. Mencke looked thoughtful, and not especially pleased by theproposition. 

"You are very kind, Althea, to propose it, but Mr. Mencke and I hadplanned a trip to Canada for this month and next, and we intended totake Violet with us. "

Violet turned a cold, steadfast look upon her sister. 

"I told you that I should not go to Canada, Belle, " she said, quietly, but decidedly. 

"Then come with us, by all means. I am sure it cannot make muchdifference whether you go to Europe or Canada, and Nellie would be veryhappy to have you for a chum, " interposed Mrs. Hawley. 

"Indeed I should. Oh, Violet, it would be simply charming. Wouldn't youlike it?" Nellie cried, enthusiastically. 

"Ye-s, " the unsuspicious girl replied, though somewhat doubtfully, asshe thought of the thousands of miles that would separate her fromWallace, if she accepted this invitation. "How long do you intend to beabsent?" she concluded, turning to Mrs. Hawley. 

"Oh, I shall be gone a year, perhaps two, and should enjoy having youwith me all the time; but Mr. Hawley and my sister, Mrs. Dwight, willreturn in about three months, so if you should get homesick you couldcome back with them. "

Mrs. Hawley was very wise; she knew that Violet would be much morelikely to go if she felt she could return at any time. 

The young girl wondered what Wallace would say to this plan. She reallyfelt attracted by it; at least, it would afford her a release for a timefrom her sister's irritating authority. 

"Why not let her come then, Belle, if she does not wish to go with youto Canada?" urged Mrs. Hawley, insinuatingly, as she turned to herfriend, with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, as she saw that Violetwas really inclined to go. 

"Well, I do not know, " said Mrs. Mencke, contemplatively. "I suppose Ishould have to consult my husband--then there is the trouble of gettingher ready. "

"Oh, she will not need anything for the voyage except some travelingrugs and wraps and a steamer chair. We can replenish her wardrobe inParis for half what it would cost here, so you need not trouble yourselfat all on that score. Will you come, Violet?" and Mrs. Hawley turnedwith a winning look to the fair girl. 

"Say yes--do, Vio, " pleaded Nellie; and then turning to Mrs. Mencke, sheadded: "You will let her, won't you?"

"I have half a mind to, " mused the crafty woman. 

"There, Vio, " cried Nellie, triumphantly; "there is nothing to hindernow. "

"It is very sudden--I will think of it and let you know, " Violet began, reflectively. 

"There will not be very much time to think of it, " Mrs. Hawley remarked, pleasantly. "You had better decide the matter at once, and thus avoidall uncertainty. "

"I will let you know by the day after to-morrow, " Violet returned, butshe lost color as she said it. 

She wanted to go, to get away from her brother and sister, but sheshrank from leaving Wallace. 

"She is planning to consult that fellow, " Mrs. Mencke said to herself, and reading Violet like a book; "but I will take care that she doesn'tget an opportunity to do so. "

Mrs. Hawley said no more, but arose to take her leave, feeling that shehad done all that was wise, for that day, in the furtherance of herfriend's schemes. 

But Nellie lingered a little, and tried to coax her friend intoyielding; she was very anxious to have her companionship upon theproposed trip. 

Violet was firm, however, and said again that she would like very muchto go, but could not decide at such short notice. 

Mrs. Mencke did not renew the subject after their caller's departure, and wisely maintained a somewhat indifferent manner, as if she did notcare very much whether Violet went or not. 

Mr. Mencke came in a little later from his club, and she broached theplan to him before Violet. Of course it had all been talked over beforebetween husband and wife. 

He, also appeared to graciously favor the proposition. 

"Why, yes, " he said, "if Violet wants to go to Europe, let her; you sayshe does not like the idea of going to Canada with us, and as we aregoing to shut up the house, she must go somewhere. "

"But she is not quite sure that she even wants to go with Althea, " Mrs. Mencke remarked, while she watched her sister closely. 

"Humph, " responded Mr. Mencke, bluntly; "it must be either one thing orthe other. Which shall it be, Violet--Europe or Canada? We can't leaveyou here while we are away. "

"It is a somewhat important question to decide at such short notice, "Violet returned, coldly, and determined that she would not commitherself until she could consult Wallace. 

She was a little surprised that he should still talk of Canada, for shehad imagined that the trip had been planned wholly on her account. 

She could not know that this was a pretense, intended to blind her stillfurther. 

The next morning Mrs. Mencke went up to Violet's room about nine o'clockand found her apparently engaged in reading a magazine. 

"I am going out shopping, " she remarked. "I have a great deal to do;don't you want to come and help me?"

Violet looked up in surprise. 

"Why, Belle, you know that I never suit your taste in shopping, and youalways veto what I suggest, " she said. 

"But you will need a great many things yourself for your trip abroad, and you can at least purchase handkerchiefs, stockings, underwear, andso forth, " her sister returned. 

"But I have not yet decided to go, " Violet replied, annoyed that heracquiescence should be thus taken for granted, "and in case I do not Ihave plenty of everything for my needs at present. "

"Well, then, Vio, come to keep me company, " Mrs. Mencke urged, trying toconceal her real purpose, to keep her sister under her surveillance, beneath an affectionate exterior. 

"Thank you, Belle, but really I do not want to go, and you will be soabsorbed in your shopping that you will not miss me, " Violet responded. 

"Very well, then; just as you choose, " Mrs. Mencke returned, irritably, and suddenly swept from the room, locking the door after her. 

As the bolt shot into its socket, Violet sprang to her feet. 

"Belle, what do you mean?" she cried, a flood of angry crimson surgingto her brow. 

"I mean that if you will not go with me, you shall stay where you areuntil I return, " Mrs. Mencke sharply answered, and then she swept downthe stairs with a smile of triumph on her face, for she congratulatedherself that she had done a very clever thing. 

Violet stood, for a moment or two, speechless and white with anger overthe indignity offered her. 

"She has dared to lock me up like a naughty, five-year-old child!" shecried, passionately. "I will not submit to such treatment; and besides, I have promised to meet Wallace again at two o'clock. What am I to do?Belle evidently suspected that I meant to see him, and has taken thisway to prevent it. "

She sat down again and tried to think, though she was trembling withexcitement and anger. 

There was no other outlet to her suite of rooms, and it certainlyappeared as if she must remain where she was until her sister's return. 

Meantime Mrs. Mencke, upon going below, had called the housemaid andconfided to her that, for good reasons, she had locked Violet in herroom and she charged the maid not to let her out under anycircumstances. 

She ordered her to carry a nice luncheon to Violet at twelve, but to besure to lock the door both going in and coming out, and on pain ofinstant dismissal to pay no heed to Violet's entreaties to be set atliberty. 

Then, feeling that she had safely snared her bird, at least for a fewhours, she went about her shopping with an easy mind. 

Violet, after thinking her condition over for a while, resolved not tomake any disturbance to attract the attention of the servants. 

She reasoned that Sarah, the second girl, would bring her some luncheonat noon, and she determined to seize that opportunity to effect herrelease; just how that was to be accomplished she did not know, but getout and go to the city she must before two o'clock. 

She dressed herself for the street, all save her hat and wrap, and thenbegan to plan ways and means. 

Suddenly her face lighted, and going into her dressing-room, shesurveyed the large mirror which was suspended above the marble bowl. 

Taking a penknife from her pocket, she deliberately severed the heavycord by which it was held in place, and then exerting all her strength, she let it carefully down until the bottom of the frame rested upon themarble, while the top leaned against the wall. 

Having accomplished this and assured herself that the glass wasperfectly safe, she went quietly back to her reading and managed toamuse herself until the clock struck twelve. 

Shortly afterward she heard a step on the stairs, accompanied by therattle of dishes, and knew that Sarah was bringing her up some luncheon. 

Darting into her dressing-room, Violet seized the mirror, drew it to thevery edge of the marble and assuming a strained position, she had theappearance of having caught the glass just as it was falling and in timeto save it from being dashed in pieces. 

Sarah unlocked the chamber-door, and finding no one there, called out:

"Miss Violet, where are you?"

"Oh, Sarah, is that you? Come here quickly, for I am in trouble, " theyoung girl cried, appealingly. 

Sarah put down her tray, but took the precaution to change the key fromthe outside of the door to the inside and lock it before going to theother room. 

Then she went to see what was the matter. 

"Why, Miss Violet, " she cried, with dismay, as she took in thesituation, "how did that happen?"

"The cord has parted, " panted Violet, as she glanced at the ragged endswhere she had sawed it asunder with her dull knife. "You will have tohelp me, " she added, "and I think we can manage to lift it to the floorwithout breaking it. I do not dare to leave it standing here; it mightslip on the marble. "

"No, " said the girl, never suspecting any ruse to outwit her, "we musttake it down. "

She seized one side of it in her strong arms, and, with Violet's help, managed to get it safely down upon the floor. 

"Hold it a moment, please, until I get my breath, " Violet said, as ifwearied out by the exertion. 

"Have you had to hold it there long?" Sarah asked, innocently, as sheallowed the heavy frame to rest against her. 

"No, not very long; but I am so glad that you came just as you did, forif it had fallen it would have frightened me terribly, " Violet answered, and she uttered no untruth, for she was glad that Sarah came just as shedid, because she was getting very anxious to go to Wallace and she wouldhave been frightened if the glass had been broken. 

"Sure enough, miss, " the girl replied, gravely, "and it's a sign ofdeath in the house to have a looking-glass broken. And look! the mothsmust have been at this cord to make it give way, for it is like a ropeand could not break, " and she stooped to examine the frayed ends as shespoke. 

Violet seized this opportunity and slipped quickly from the room, drawing the door to and locking it after her, thus making Sarah aprisoner and securing her own liberty. 

But her kind little heart and tender conscience smote her for thestrategy which she had employed to accomplish her purpose, and kneelingupon the floor, she put her lips to the key-hole and said:

"Forgive me, Sarah; but it was all a little plot of mine to get out. Thecord did not break; I cut it. "

"Oh, Miss Violet, let me out; please, let me out, " the girl cried, indistress. "Mrs. Mencke said she'd send me off without a reference if Ididn't keep you safe till she came back, and I never dreamed you wereplaying me such a trick. "

"It is a little hard on you, I confess, Sarah, " Violet responded, regretfully, "and I am very sorry; but I had to do it, for I have animportant engagement down town. Belle had no business to treat me solike a child, and she shall not discharge you if I can help it. I willtell her just how I deceived you, and then, if she will not bereasonable, I will give you a month's wages and help you to anotherplace. "

Sarah continued to plead to be let out, but Violet remained unshaken inher purpose. 

"No, you will have to stay here a little while, " she said, "but when Igo down I will send the cook up to release you. When Belle comes homeyou can tell her that she will find me at Nellie Bailey's and that Ishall not come home until she apologizes for her shameful treatment. "

She could not get over her indignation at being put under lock and key, with a servant set over her as jailer. 

She hastily donned her hat and wrap, drew on her gloves, and quietlyleft the room. 

Going to the top of the basement stairs, she rang a bell for the cook. 

"Bridget, Sarah wants you to go up to my dressing-room to help her witha mirror that has come down, " she said; and then, without waiting for areply, Violet sped out of the house, and, hailing the first car thatcame along, was soon rolling toward the city to meet her betrothed. 

CHAPTER X. 

"YOU WILL BE TRUE THOUGH THE OCEAN DIVIDES US. "

About four o'clock of that same day Violet entered the private parlor ofher friend, Nellie Bailey, her face glowing, her eyes gleaming withexcitement. 

"Oh, you dear child!" cried that young lady, leaping to her feet andspringing forward to meet her visitor, "you have come to tell me thatyou are going to Europe with me. "

"I have come to stay all night with you if you will let me, " Violetreplied, returning the eager caress with which Nellie had greeted her. 

"If I will 'let' you! You know I shall be only too glad to have you. Buthow happy you look! You surely have good news to tell me. "

Violet flushed, and her eyes drooped for a moment. 

"Yes, I believe I shall go to Europe with you, " she answered, her facedimpling with smiles, and Nellie immediately went into ecstasies overthe announcement. 

"I am perfectly enchanted, " she cried; "and will you remain the wholeyear?"

"I do not know about that, " Violet thoughtfully replied. "I have not setany time for my return. I shall go for three months at any rate, and Imay conclude to remain longer. "

"I wish you could come to Milan to study music with me, " Nellieremarked, wistfully. 

"I imagine that Belle would not consent to that, " Violet returned. "Shewould be afraid that we two girls would get into mischief if left toourselves. I suppose I shall travel with Mrs. Hawley, but I will try topay you a visit now and then if I remain any length of time. "

The girls found much to talk about in anticipation of their journey, andthe time passed quickly and pleasantly until the dinner hour, whileduring the meal the family were all so agreeable and entertaining--forViolet was a great favorite with them--that she forgot, for the time, the unpleasantness of the morning and her clear, happy laugh rang outwith all her customary abandon. 

She had not mentioned her misunderstanding with her sister, for herpride rebelled against having it known that she was not entirely happyin her home; and when, shortly after dinner, Mrs. Mencke called andasked to see Violet alone, she excused the circumstance by remarkingthat she supposed it was upon some matter of business. 

Mrs. Mencke had been furious, upon her return home to find how she andSarah had both been outwitted, and she had come to Mrs. Bailey'sprepared, not to apologize, but to be very severe upon the offender forher defiance of all authority. 

But the sight of her happy face and sparkling eyes disarmed her, and shepassed over the affair much more lightly than Violet had dared to hopeshe would. 

The young girl frankly acknowledged the strategy she had employed, andexonerated Sarah from all blame; but she also firmly declared that ifher sister would not promise to let her alone--if she persisted in thepersecution of the last few days, she would reveal to Mr. And Mrs. Bailey all that had occurred, and implore their protection andassistance in securing other guardians. 

Mrs. Mencke had arrived at that point where she believed that"discretion would be the better part of valor, " for she realized thather young sister's spirit was too strong for her, and that she would dowhat she had threatened; therefore, she resolved not to antagonize herfurther if she could avoid it. 

"It was a shame, Belle, for you to lock me up like a naughty, unreasonable child, and I will not endure such treatment, " Violetindignantly affirmed, in concluding the recital of her morning'sexperience. 

"Well, well, child, I did not know what else to do with you; but let itpass, please. Perhaps it was a mistake, and we will let by-gones beby-gones, " Mrs. Mencke responded, in a conciliatory tone. "I am gladthat you have decided in favor of the European trip, and I want you togo away feeling kindly toward me. Will you come home with me now?"

"Not to-night; I have promised Nellie that I would spend it with her;but you may send for me early tomorrow, for I suppose we shall have tobe rather busy during the next three weeks. "

"Very well; but, Vio, you will promise me that you will not try to----"Mrs. Mencke began, anxiously, for she could not rid herself of the fearthat Violet would try to meet her lover clandestinely. 

"Hush, Belle; I will promise you nothing, " Violet interrupted, spiritedly. "I am a woman now--I have my own rights, and there are somethings upon which you shall not trench. If there is to be peace betweenus you must let me entirely alone on one subject. "

Mrs. Mencke made no reply to this. She told herself that strategy wasthe only course left open to her. 

She joined the Bailey family for a little while for a social chat, afterwhich she took her leave, promising to send the carriage for Violet atten the next morning. 

The ensuing three weeks passed rapidly, and without any further troublebetween the sisters to mar their intercourse. 

Mrs. Mencke endeavored, by every means in her power, to keep Violetunder her own eye during this time, but once or twice the young girlmanaged to evade her vigilance. Whether she met Wallace or not she hadno means of ascertaining, but she felt that she should be truly thankfuland relieved of a heavy burden when the ocean divided them. 

The day of sailing drew nigh and the voyagers, accompanied by severalfriends, repaired to New York, where they were to take a steamerbelonging to the White Star Line. 

When they all went aboard the vessel, on the morning of the tenth, Mrs. Mencke was both amazed and dismayed to see Wallace Richardson advanceand greet Violet with all the assurance of an accepted suitor; while theyoung girl herself, though her face lighted up joyously as she caughtsight of him, did not seem in the least surprised to find him there. 

The fact was, Wallace had told Violet that he had a call to go to NewYork on business, and he would arrange to be there at the time that shesailed. 

If looks could have annihilated him, he would at once have vanishedforever from the sight of men; but as he met Mrs. Mencke's angry glancehe courteously lifted his hat and bowed, and then went on with hisconversation with Violet. 

Of course it would not do to make a scene in such a conspicuous place, and the enraged woman was obliged to curb her passion; but she thankedthe fates that Violet was going so far away, and she vowed that it wouldbe a long while before she returned. 

She intended to keep the young couple under her eye until the steamerstarted, but, in the confusion which everywhere prevailed, they managedto slip out of sight before she was aware of it, and after that shecould not find them. 

They were not far away, however, and their security lay in this veryfact. They had simply stepped between a couple of stacks of baggage fora few last words to each other, while they became oblivious ofeverything save the thought of their approaching separation. 

"My darling, it is hard to let you go--harder than I thought it wouldbe, now that the time has arrived, " Wallace said, as he took both herhands in his and looked tenderly into her sorrowful face. 

"I almost wish I could not go, after all, " Violet faltered, as the hottears rushed into her eyes. "I will not--I will stay, even now, if youwill tell me I may, " she concluded, resolutely. 

"No, love; that would be unwise, and I know it is better that you shouldgo--better for you, better for me, " he replied. 

"But I shall come back in three months, " Violet said, with an air ofdecision. "I could not stay away from you longer than that. "

"If you feel that you must, I will not oppose it, dear, " the young manreturned, tenderly. "Still, if you can be contented to remain a year, Ibelieve it would be a good plan for you to do so. Meantime I will do myutmost to attain a position which shall warrant me in claiming this dearhand when you return. "

"I shall write to you by every steamer, Wallace, and you will be sure toanswer as regularly, " Violet pleaded. 

"Indeed I shall, and I am promising myself a great deal of pleasure fromour correspondence--more, in fact, than I have yet known, for ourclandestine meetings have been very galling to me. I never like to doanything that is not perfectly open and straightforward, " Wallace said, gravely. 

"Neither do I, " returned Violet; "but we were driven to it. "

"True, and therefore I feel that it was justifiable. They, yourguardians, would have separated us if they could; but this faithfullittle heart could not be won from its allegiance; and, my darling, I amsure you will still be true to me, even though the ocean divides us. "

Violet's fingers closed over his with a convulsive, almost a painfulclasp. 

"Always; nothing--no one could ever tempt me from my faith to you, Wallace, " she huskily murmured. "Oh!" she cried, with a sudden start, asa warning whistle blew, "does that mean that you must go?"

"Yes, within five minutes, " he replied. "And now, my heart's queen, noone can see us; therefore give me just one parting kiss, and that mustbe our farewell, for I cannot take leave of you before others. "

He bent and gathered her quickly in his arms, straining her to hisbreast with a close, yearning clasp, and pressed his lips to hers in onelingering caress. 

"My love, my love, you will take the light from my world when you go, "he murmured, fondly. 

Then he released her, and led her forth from their hiding-place towardwhere her friends were gathered. 

"Why, Violet, we have been alarmed about you, and our friends fearedthey would have to go without saying good-by to you, " Mrs. Menckeexclaimed, in a tone that plainly indicated her displeasure at hersister's behavior. 

But there was no time for reproaches. Everybody was bidding everybodyelse a last farewell, and presently the cry, "All ashore!" sounded, andthere was a general stampede of all those who were not outward bound. 

Wallace remained until the last moment. His was the last hand thattouched Violet's, his the last voice that sounded in her ears with thewords:

"Good-by, queen of my heart, and Heaven bless you!"

Then he leaped across the gang-plank, just as it was being removed. 

Violet's heart was full to overflowing at this parting, and she speddown to her state-room, where, half an hour later, Nellie Bailey foundher sobbing hysterically. 

"Why, you silly child!" she cried, assuming a light tone, although herown eyes were full and her voice tremulous, "this does not look as ifyou were very much elated over the prospect of going to Europe. Are allthe tears for that handsome young man who appeared so loath to leaveyou? By the way, Violet, was that the Mr. Richardson who saved you atthe time of the inclined plane accident?"

"Yes, " Violet murmured, between her sobs. 

"I imagined so from something your sister said; she isn't over fond ofhim, is she?" Nellie inquired, with a light laugh and a mischievousglance at the averted face on the pillow in the berth, as she emphasizedthe pronoun. "Come, " she added, presently, "let us lay out the things weare likely to need during the voyage, and put our state-room in order, for there is no knowing how soon we may be attacked by the dread enemyof all voyagers. "

"Oh, I hope we shall not be sick, " Violet said, diverted from her griefby Nellie's practical suggestion, and wiping away her tears. "I love thewater, and I want to make the most of the time we are on the ocean. Letus make up our minds that we will not be ill. "

"I suppose we can control it, in a measure, by the exercise of willpower, " Nellie answered, "and I will try what I can do in that respect, although I very much fear that the sea will prove to be mightier thanI. "

The two girls soon had their small room in order, and everything handyfor the voyage, then they went up on the deck to seek their friends, Mr. And Mrs. Hawley, and the sister of the latter, Mrs. Dwight. 

Mrs. Hawley eyed Violet curiously for a moment, noticing her heavy eyesand the grieved droop about her sweet mouth, then set herself to diverther mind from the recent farewell, which she plainly saw had been asevere trial. 

She was one of those remarkable women who can adapt themselves to allkinds of society and circumstances. She could be delightful in adrawing-room full of cultured people; she could entertain a group ofchildren by the hour, while the young people pronounced her the mostcharming companion imaginable. 

It was not long, therefore, before she made Violet entirely forgetherself and her recent sadness, and the young girl soon found herselflaughing heartily over some droll incident of which Mrs. Hawley hadrecently been the amused and appreciative observer. 

They were standing in a group by themselves, and by degrees became sogay and merry that two gentlemen, standing a short distance from them, became infected with their mirth. 

"A gay party, isn't it, Ralph?" remarked the elder of the two. 

"Jolly; I wish we knew them; and they are about as pretty a pair ofgirls as I have ever seen. Do you suppose they are sisters?"

"No, I do not believe it; they have not a feature or characteristic incommon, as far as I can see. That golden-haired one is a perfect littleHebe; her complexion and features are perfect, her figure faultless, while she has the daintiest hands and feet that I ever saw, " said thefirst speaker. 

"Really, Cameron, I believe you are hard hit, at last, " laughed hiscompanion. "I never knew you to express yourself so enthusiasticallyregarding a woman before. "

"I never had occasion, " returned Cameron, dryly. "We must manage someway to make the acquaintance of yonder party--eh, Henderson?"

Fate seemed anxious to give him the opportunity he desired, for, just atthat moment, a gust of wind lifted Violet's jaunty hat from her head andsent it flying toward the two distinguished-looking strangers, and inanother moment it would have been swept into the sea and lost beyondrecovery. 

But the one who had been called Cameron sprang forward, and, with aquick, agile movement, one sweep of his strong right arm, caught it justas it was going over the rail. 

With a gratified smile on his handsome face, and an air of courtlypoliteness, he approached Violet, and bowing, remarked:

"Allow me to restore the bird that took such unceremonious flight. "

He glanced at the golden-winged oriole which nestled so jauntily in itsbrown velvet nest upon the hat as he spoke. 

The fair girl thanked him, flushed slightly beneath his admiring look, and Mrs. Hawley graciously echoed her appreciation of his dexterity. 

"Allow me to compliment you, sir, upon your agility, " she said, in hercordial, outspoken way; "that was a leap worthy of an accomplishedathlete. "

"Thanks, madame, " young Cameron returned, lifting his hat inacknowledgment of her praise. 

Then he would have withdrawn himself from their presence, though helonged to stay, but Mr. Hawley, who had been attracted by his fine faceand gentlemanly bearing, remarked:

"Since we are to be fellow-voyagers for a week or more, may I ask towhom we are indebted? My name is Hawley, of the firm of Hawley & Blake, Cincinnati, Ohio. "

"Thank you, " the young man replied, with a genial smile, "and I am knownas Vane Cameron. I am as yet connected with no firm, but my home has formany years been in New York. "

"Cameron--Cameron, " repeated Mrs. Hawley, meditatively. "I wonder if hecan be a relative of that Anson Cameron who married the Earl ofSutherland's daughter about the time of our marriage. It createdconsiderable talk among the grandees of New York, I remember, for thelady was very beautiful as well as of noble blood. "

Mrs. Hawley's reflection were here cut short by her husband, whointroduced her to the handsome young stranger, and then he proceeded toperform the same ceremony for the other members of his party. 

Mr. Vane Cameron was apparently about thirty years of age, fine-looking, neither very dark nor very light, with a clear-cut patrician face, agrandly developed form, a dignified bearing, and irreproachable manners. 

He conversed in an easy, self-possessed manner with his newacquaintances for a few moments, and then craved permission to introducehis friend. 

This request was cordially granted, and Mrs. Hawley ere longcongratulated herself upon having secured a very pleasant addition toher party, for Mr. Ralph Henderson proved to be no less entertaining, although a much younger man, than his _compagnon du voyage_. 

By a few very adroit questions, and putting this and that together, Mrs. Hawley learned that Mr. Vane Cameron was the son of Mr. Anson Cameronand the grandson of the late Earl of Sutherland, consequently the heirof the distinguished peer; and, more than that, she gleaned theinteresting item that he was now on his way to England to takepossession of his fine inheritance. 

It is remarkable how much one woman can find out in a short time. Mrs. Hawley also learned that Mr. Ralph Henderson belonged to an aristocraticfamily who were numbered among the envied "four hundred" of New York. 

"If I do not improve my opportunities during the next eight or ninedays, it will be because my usual wit and ability fail me, " the ladysaid to herself, after making these discoveries. "I have two prettygirls under my wing, and these young men are not backward in realizingthe fact either. Violet, my pansy-eyed darling, I'll manage to make youforget that carpenter lover of yours long before your stipulated threemonths are at an end, or my name isn't Althea. I'd like nothing betterthan to write you among my list of friends as Countess of Sutherland;and Nellie, my modest little brunette, you would make a delightfullittle spouse for that agreeable Mr. Henderson. "

CHAPTER XI. 

"DEATH HAS RELEASED YOU FROM YOUR PROMISE. "

The voyage across the Atlantic proved to be a most delightful one. 

Vane Cameron and Ralph Henderson, by tacit consent, joined Mrs. Hawley'sparty, and were so entertaining and attentive that they allcongratulated themselves upon having secured so pleasant an addition totheir company. 

By the time they reached England Vane Cameron had surrendered hishitherto impregnable heart entirely to Violet, and when he bade Mrs. Hawley and her charges good-by, after seeing them comfortablyestablished in the hotel where they were to remain during their sojournin London, he asked the privilege of bringing his mother--who hadpreceded him to England by several months--to make their acquaintance. 

This was an honor which Mrs. Hawley had hardly anticipated; she wellknew the exclusive proclivities of British blue blood, and was highlyelated by the prospect of being introduced into London society byIsabel, only child of the late Earl of Sutherland. 

It is needless to state she graciously accorded the young man theprivilege he asked, and delightfully looked forward to the promisedvisit. 

She had not long to wait, for before the week was out Lady Isabel, accompanied by her son, came to make her call, and she appeared to be noless attracted by the beauty and winning manner of Violet than youngCameron had been. 

Mrs. Hawley made herself exceedingly agreeable by her courtesy andcultured self-possession, and before she left it was arranged that herladyship would give a reception at an early date for the purpose ofintroducing her new acquaintances to London society. 

After that there followed a whirl of pleasure and excitement such asViolet and Nellie had read about, but never expected to enjoy. 

Mr. Henderson and the young girl, as he was now commonly recognized, attended them everywhere, until it began to be remarked in selectcircles that the son was likely to follow the example of his mother bymarrying a wealthy American. 

Mrs. Hawley's reports to Mrs. Mencke of all this were highlysatisfactory, and the worldly minded sister congratulated herself thatshe had sent Violet abroad instead of insisting upon her going toCanada. 

She had neither seen nor heard anything of young Richardson sinceViolet's departure, although Mr. Mencke had tried to post himselfregarding his movements. All he could learn, however, was that he hadleft Cincinnati a few weeks after Violet sailed, but no one could tellhim whither he had gone. 

This was something of a relief, although the Menckes would have beenglad to keep track of him, for a dim suspicion that he might havefollowed Violet haunted them. 

The young girl expected to hear from her lover soon after reachingLondon, but three weeks went by, and not one line had she received. Shewas getting very anxious and impatient, but of course she did not dareto betray anything of the feeling, and so strove to bear herdisappointment with as bold a front as possible. 

She, however, faithfully wrote to Wallace every two or three days, andin each letter mentioned the fact that she had not heard from him, andbegged him not to keep her longer in suspense. 

She imagined that she exercised great care in sending her letters sothat Mrs. Hawley would not suspect the correspondence, for she went downto the hotel letter-box to post every one with her own hands. 

But Mrs. Hawley had received orders from Mrs. Mencke to intercept allsuch missives, and she, in turn, gave instructions to the hotel clerkthat all epistles addressed to "Wallace Richardson, Cincinnati, Ohio, "be returned to her. 

Thus the lovers never heard one word from each other--though, to thewoman's credit be it said, if there was any credit due her--sheconscientiously burned every letter, unopened, for she was secretly veryfond of Violet and could not bring herself to wrong her still further byperusing the sacred expressions of her loving little heart, or the fondwords which Wallace intended only for her eye. 

But Violet, though anxious, could not find much time to indulge hergrief, for she was kept in such a constant round of excitement. Severaltimes Nellie awoke in the night to find her weeping, but, upon inquiringthe cause of her tears, Violet would either avoid a direct reply, orallow her friend to attribute her grief to homesickness. 

One day, about six weeks after Mrs. Hawley and her party reached London, every one appeared very much surprised by the arrival of Mr. And Mrs. Mencke at the same hotel. 

Mr. And Mrs. Hawley alone were in the secret of their coming, but theydid not betray the fact in their greeting, and Violet, though she mether sister affectionately, was at heart very much annoyed by herarrival. 

Mrs. Mencke and Mrs. Hawley improved the first opportunity to have along, confidential talk upon all that had occurred during the period oftheir separation, and the former was fairly jubilant over her friend'saccount of the Earl of Sutherland's attentions to Violet. 

"An English earl!" she exclaimed, with a glowing face. "That ispositively bewildering! And you think that Violet likes him?"

"She cannot help liking him, " responded Mrs. Hawley; "for he has a waythat is perfectly irresistible. As I wrote to you, he is a good dealolder than she is, and he possesses a quiet dignity, and a certainmasterful manner that carries everything before it. "

"If he will only prove himself masterful enough to conquer Violet's willand make her marry him, I shall be too proud and thankful to containmyself, " said Mrs. Mencke, earnestly. 

"It is very evident that he intends to do so if he can, " returned herfriend, "and we must leave no opportunity unimproved to help him in hiswooing. We must keep Violet so busy with engagements that she will haveno time to think about her carpenter lover. "

Two more weeks passed, and still Violet did not hear from Wallace, andthe secret suspense and anxiety were beginning to tell visibly upon her. 

She lost color and spirit, and but for the fear of exciting suspicion, she would have refused to mingle in the gay scenes which were becomingwearisome to her. 

There was still a ceaseless round of pleasure, receptions, parties, opera, and theatre, and everywhere the party was attended by two younggentlemen who had become so deeply enamored of the beautiful Americangirls. 

Violet tried her best to resist the force of the stream that seemed tobe hurrying her on whither she would not go, but without avail; for VaneCameron was always at her side, and everybody appeared to take it forgranted that he had a right to be there, while it became evident toViolet that he was only waiting for a favorable opportunity to declarehimself her lover. 

What she dreaded came at last. 

They all attended the opera one evening, and a brilliant appearance theymade as they sat in one of the proscenium boxes. But Violet did notenjoy the performance, and could not follow it; her thoughts would goback to that fateful day when her life was saved by the coolness anddetermination of Wallace Richardson. From that moment her soul hadseemed to become linked to his by some mysterious and indissoluble bond. 

All through the brilliant performance she sat absorbed, feeling sad, depressed, and inexpressibly anxious, and looking like some pale, beautiful spirit in her white dress trimmed with swan's-down, that wasscarcely less colorless than herself. 

Lord Cameron thought he had never seen her so lovely, but he realizedthat something was not quite right with her, and, though he had receivedMrs. Mencke's permission to speak when he would, he resolved not totrouble her that night with any expression of his affection. 

After their return to the hotel, Mrs. Mencke followed Violet to herroom, pride and triumph written upon every line of her face. 

"Have you anything to tell me, Violet?" she asked, a tremulous eagernessin her tones. 

"No; what could you imagine that I should have to tell you?" the younggirl replied, regarding her with surprise. 

"What ails you, Violet?" Mrs. Mencke asked, with a sudden heart-throb, as she noticed her unusual pallor. "Are you sick? Has--anythinghappened?"

"No, I am not sick, " Violet answered, with a heavy sigh; "and what couldhappen that you would not know about?"

"I know what I wish would happen, " returned her sister, eagerly, "andwhat Lord Cameron wishes, too. He had eyes for no one but you to-night, and I must say I never saw you look so pretty before. Your dress is justexquisite, and it cost a heap of money, too; but that counts for nothingin comparison with the conquest you have made. "

Violet could not fail to understand what all this meant. She flushedhotly, and nervously began to pull off her gloves. 

Mrs. Mencke smiled at the blush; it was ominous for good, she thought. 

"You comprehend, I perceive, " she said, airily; "you know that you havecaptured a prize--that the Earl of Sutherland is ready and waiting tooffer you a name and position such as does not fall to the lot of onegirl in ten thousand. "

"Nonsense, Belle! I wish you would not talk so to me about LordCameron, " Violet petulantly exclaimed. 

"It is not nonsense, child, for Vane Cameron has formally proposed foryour hand in marriage--has asked Will's and my consent to win you if hecan. "

"Belle!"

Violet turned upon her sister, crimson to the roots of her hair, blankdismay written upon every feature of her fair face. 

"It is true, " Mrs. Mencke continued, "and it is wonderful luck for you. Just think, Violet, what it means to step into such a position! I amproud of your conquest. "

Violet suddenly grew cold and pale as snow. 

"Belle, you know it can never be, " she began, with white lips, when Mrs. Mencke interrupted her angrily. 

"It can be--it must be--it shall be; for I have given my unqualifiedconsent to his lordship's proposal, " she cried, actually trembling fromexcitement. 

"Belle, you have not dared to do such a thing! You know that I ampromised to another, " the young girl cried with blazing eyes. 

A queer look shot over Mrs. Mencke's face at this reply, and she openedher lips as if to make one sharp, unguarded retort. Then she suddenlychecked herself, and, after a moment, remarked, in a repressed tone:

"You know well enough that that foolish escapade of yours counts fornothing, and that young Richardson has no right to hold you bound by anypromise you may have impulsively given him from a feeling of gratitude. "

"I hold myself bound, nevertheless, " Violet returned, with tremulouslips, "and not from any feeling of gratitude either; but because I lovehim with all my heart. "

"You shall never marry him, " retorted her sister, angrily. "Are you madto think of throwing away such a chance as this for a low-born fellowlike that? It is not to be thought of for one moment; and, Violet, youshall marry Vane Cameron. 

"Take care, Belle, you are going a little too far now, " Violet cried, adangerous flame leaping into her eyes. "I shall not marry Lord Cameron. I have given my word to Wallace, and I shall abide by it. "

"Violet!" cried her sister, sternly, and she was now as white as thesnowy lace about her neck, "there shall be no more of this child's play. You shall not ruin your life by any such foolishness. What will VaneCameron think of me for granting him the permission he craved? It wasequivalent to admitting that he would find no obstacle in his path. Whatcould you tell him?"

"The truth--that I do not love him; that I do love some one else, "bravely and steadfastly returned the young girl. 

"You shall not! I should die with mortification and disappointment, "cried Mrs. Mencke, wringing her hands in distress. Then bridling again, she went on, in an inflexible tone: "I will give you just one week toreconsider your folly; I will intimate to Lord Cameron that you are alittle shy of the subject--that it will be just as well for him not tospeak for perhaps a couple of weeks; but--hear me, Violet--if you refuseto come to my terms at the end of that time, I will take you to Franceand shut you up in a convent, where you shall stay until you willsolemnly promise me that you will give up your miserable Yankee lover. "

She turned and abruptly left the room without giving Violet a chance toreply. 

Violet stood still a moment, looking wretched enough to break one'sheart; then throwing herself upon her bed, she gave way to a passion oftears and sobbing. 

"Oh, Wallace, where are you?" she moaned, "why don't you write to me? Ifeel as if I was being led into a trap, and"--with a sudden lightseeming to burst upon her--"I believe they have been intercepting ourletters, for I know that you would be faithful to me. Oh, I am homesickfor you, and now that Belle and Will have come I know they will not letme go back at the end of three months. What shall I do? Of course Icannot marry Lord Cameron, and I shall tell him the truth if he asksme. "

She lay for a long time trying to think of some way out of her troubles. At last, when she had become more calm, she arose, exchanged herbeautiful evening dress for a wrapper, and then wrote a long letter toWallace, telling him all about her perplexity and suspicions, begginghim to send her some news of himself and to address his letter toNellie. 

Not having received any of his letters, she of course did not know thathe had removed from Cincinnati; therefore she directed her letter asusual, and, of course, he never got it; although she slyly posted it inthe letter-box on one of the public buildings of the city while she wasout sight-seeing the next day. 

At the end of a week Mrs. Mencke sought Violet and renewed the subjectof Vane Cameron's proposal. 

"I wish you would let me alone about that, Belle, " the young girlresponded, wearily. "It is useless for you to try to change mydecision--my word is pledged to Wallace, and only death will everrelease me from it, for if I live to go home I shall redeem it. "

"That is your ultimatum, is it?" demanded her sister, with a face ashard as adamant. 

"Yes. "

"Then you oblige me to communicate a fact which, for several reasons, Ishould have preferred to withhold from you, " said Mrs. Mencke, bending astrange look upon her. 

"What do you mean?" Violet inquired, startled by her manner. 

"Death has released you from your promise to that fellow. Read that, "was the stunning reply, as the woman drew a paper from her pocket, and, laying it before Violet, pointed to a marked paragraph. 

"Belle!" came in a low, shuddering voice from the blanched lips of thebeautiful girl before her, as she seemed instinctively to know what wasprinted here. 

"Read, " commanded Mrs. Mencke, relentlessly. 

With hands that shook like leaves in the wind, Violet picked up thepaper. It was the Cincinnati _Times-Star_, and she read with a look ofhorror on her young face:

 Died, on the 28th instant, Wallace Richardson, aged 23 years and 6 months. 

The next moment a piercing shriek rang through the room, and Violet laystretched senseless at her sister's feet. 

"Heavens! I did not think she would take it to heart like this, " criedthe now thoroughly frightened woman, as she threw herself upon her kneesbeside the motionless girl and began to loosen her clothing and chafeher hands. 

That heart-broken cry had been heard in the adjoining room, and Mrs. Hawley and Nellie came rushing upon the scene to ascertain the cause ofit. 

They assisted in getting Violet to bed, and a physician was immediatelysent for. 

"She has had some sudden and violent shock, " he said at once, while heregarded Mrs. Mencke searchingly. 

"Yes, " she confessed, with as much composure as her guilty consciencewould allow her to assume; "she read an account of the death of a--afriend, in an American paper. "

"Hem!" was the medical man's brief comment, as he again turned hisattention to his patient, whom, it was evident, he considered to be in acritical state. 

It was long before he could restore suspended animation, and even thenViolet did not come back to consciousness; fever followed, and she beganto rave in the wildest delirium. 

"It's going to be a neck-and-neck race between life and death, " thedoctor frankly told her friends, "and you must be vigilant and patient. "

This unforeseen calamity, of course, put an end to all gayety. 

It was thought best that Nellie should at once repair to Milan, and Mrs. Hawley left two days later to see her safely and comfortably settled ather work, after which she returned to London to assist Mrs. Mencke inthe care of her sister. 

It was more than a month before Violet was pronounced out of danger; andthen, as soon as she was able to sit up, the physician advised a changeof climate; a few weeks at Mentone, he thought, would do her good. 

The poor girl looked as if a rude breath would quench what little lifeshe had, and Mrs. Mencke, who still secretly clung to the hope ofaffecting an alliance between her and Lord Cameron, was anxious to doeverything to build her up; consequently she immediately posted off withher invalid to that far-famed resort. She had a private interview first, however, with his lordship, from whom the real cause of Violet's illnesshad been kept a profound secret, and promised to send for him just assoon as her sister was able to see him. 

The mild and genial atmosphere of Mentone produced a favorable change inthe invalid immediately. Her appetite improved, and with it strength andsomething of her natural color. 

But the child was pitifully sad--heart-broken. Nothing appeared tointerest her, and she seemed to live from day to day only because naturewas stronger than her grief. 

She never spoke of Wallace, nor referred to the fact that her illnesshad been caused by the dreadful tidings of his death. She was patient, gentle, and submissive, doing whatever she was told to do, simplybecause it was easier than to resist, and, as she slowly but surelygained, Mrs. Mencke told herself that the way was clear to theconsummation of her ambitious hopes. 

A month passed thus, and then Vane Cameron appeared upon the scene, having been summoned by an encouraging letter from Violet's sister. 

CHAPTER XII. 

"YOU HAVE GIVEN YOUR PROMISE AND YOU MUST STAND BY IT. "

When Mrs. Mencke informed Violet of the arrival of the Earl ofSutherland, something of her old spirit manifested itself for the firsttime since her illness. 

"Did you send for him, Belle?" she demanded, an ominous flash leapinginto her heavy eyes. 

The woman colored. She did not like to confess that she had done so, butsuch was the fact, nevertheless. 

"Why, Violet, you forget how anxious Lord Cameron would naturally beregarding the state of your health, " she answered, evasively; "besides, he has waited a long time for the answer to a certain proposal, anddoubtless he is impatient for that. "

"He shall have it, " the young girl returned, with sudden animation, acrimson flush suffusing her cheeks. "Send for him to come directly here, and I will give it at once. "

Mrs. Mencke regarded her doubtfully. 

"And it will be----" she began. 

"No!" replied Violet, emphatically, as she paused. 

"Oh, Violet, I beg of you to be reasonable, " pleaded the woman, almostin tears. "Just think what your life must be! One of the highestpositions in England is offered you by a young man of irreproachablecharacter; he loves you devotedly, and there is nothing he would not dofor you if you consent to become his wife. Besides a large income whichhe will settle upon you, you will have an elegant home in Essex County, a town house in London, and a villa on the Isle of Wight. There is noearthly reason now, whatever there may have been two months ago, why youshould not listen to his suit. "

Violet shivered with sudden pain as her sister thus referred to thedeath of her lover, and the fact that no plighted troth now stood in theway of her accepting Lord Cameron's proposal of marriage. 

"No, " she wailed, "I suppose there is no reason, save that I do not lovehim--that my heart is dead, and I have no interest in life, no desire tolive. "

"You may imagine now that you can never love him, but time heals allwounds, " her sister returned; "and since you can now feel that you willwrong no one else by marrying him, you might at least devote yourself tohim and secure his happiness by accepting him. "

"Do you imagine that he would be willing to marry a loveless woman--onewho had no heart to give him?" Violet questioned, with curling lips. 

"He only can answer that question himself, " responded Mrs. Mencke, witha sudden heart-bound, as she thought she saw signs of yielding in hersister. "Oh, Violet, do not throw away such a chance. What are you goingto do in the future? How do you expect to spend the rest of your life ifyou refuse to marry at all?"

A thrill of intense agony ran through the young girl's frame at theseprobing questions. 

How indeed was she to spend her life? How could she live withoutWallace?

She had not thought of this before, and she was startled and appalled bythe apparent blackness of the future. 

"Oh, I don't know--I don't know!" she burst forth, in a voice ofdespair. 

"As the wife of Lord Cameron you would at least have it in your power todo a great deal of good, to say nothing of the happiness you wouldconfer upon him, " suggested Mrs. Mencke, craftily. 

It impressed Violet, however, and she sat in thoughtful silence for sometime. 

One thing had forced itself upon her during this conversation, and thatwas that she could not spend her life with her sister and her husband. Every day she became more and more conscious that there could never beany real congeniality and sympathy between them, and that it would bebetter if they should separate. But what was to become of her if sheseparated from them? Could she live alone--take her destiny in her ownhands, and cut herself free from them? It would certainly be verylonely, very forlorn, to have no one in the world to care for her. 

She knew that Vane Cameron was a man in a thousand. He was noble andamiable; whatever he did, he was actuated by pure motives, and she feltthat any woman who could love him would have cause to be proud inbecoming his wife. 

She knew that he loved her devotedly, as her sister had said; but wouldhe be willing to marry one who did not love him? Would it be right forher to accept all and be able to give nothing in return?

No, she did not believe he would be satisfied to live out his future inany such way. 

Still she conceived a sudden resolution. She would see him; she wouldtell him the truth, and she believed he would sympathize with her and atonce withdraw his suit, while her sister would have to accept hisdecision as final, and cease to importune her further upon the subject. 

Having arrived at this conclusion, she leaned back in her chair, with adeep sigh, as if relieved of a heavy burden. 

"Well?" said Mrs. Mencke, inquiringly. 

She had been watching her closely, and surmised something of what wasbeing revolved in her mind. 

"I will see Lord Cameron, " Violet quietly replied. 

"And you will promise to marry him?" cried her companion, eagerly. 

Violet sighed again. She was so weary of it all. 

"No, I will not promise anything now; but I will see him--I will tellhim the whole truth, and then----"

"Well?" was the almost breathless query, as Violet faltered and her lipsgrew white. 

"Then he shall decide for me, " she said, in a low tone. 

Mrs. Mencke arose delighted, for she felt that her point was gained. Shewould encourage Vane Cameron to take Violet, in spite of everything, andtry to make him feel that once she was his wife he would have littledifficulty in eventually winning her love. 

She bent over Violet, in the excess of her joy, to kiss her, but theyoung girl drew back from her. 

"No, Belle, " she said, quietly but sadly, "do not make any pretense ofaffection for me; you have not shown yourself a good sister; I believeyou have intercepted my letters, and you have tried to ruin my life, andI do not want your kisses. I hope I shall not always feel thus, " sheadded, regretfully, as she saw the guilty flush which mounted to thewoman's forehead, "but, just now, I am afraid I do not love you verymuch, and I will not be hypocritical enough to pretend that I do. "

Mrs. Mencke had nothing to say to this, for she well knew that sherichly deserved it; but she passed quickly from the room, and at oncesought an interview with Lord Cameron. 

An hour later he was sitting beside Violet, with a grave and pitifulface, but with a look of eager hope in his fine eyes, which told that hehad no thought of leaving her presence a rejected lover. 

"Your illness has changed you greatly, Miss Huntington, " he remarked, regarding her thin, white face sorrowfully, "but I hope that you willsoon be yourself again, and--and now may I at once speak of what isnearest my heart? I believe in a frank course at all times, and ofcourse you cannot be ignorant of my object in coming to you. I am sureyou must realize, by this time, something of the depth of my love foryou. Indeed my one hope, ever since our pleasant voyage across thewater, has been to win you. Darling, words cannot express one-half thatI feel; I have lived almost thirty years without ever meeting any onewith whom I could be willing to spend my life until now, and all thelong-pent-up passion of my nature goes forth to you. Violet, will you bemy wife? will you come to me and let me shelter you in the arms of mylove--let me try to make your future the brightest one that woman hasever known? My love! my love! put your little hands in mine and say thatyou will give yourself to me. "

Violet made such a gesture of pain at these words, while her face wasconvulsed with such anguish, that Vane Cameron caught his breath andregarded her with astonishment. 

When Mrs. Mencke had told him that Violet had consented to see him, shehinted at some childish attachment, but encouraged him to hope for afavorable issue of the interview. 

He realized now, however, that this "childish attachment" had left a fardeeper wound in Violet's heart than he had been allowed to suspect. 

"Is my confession distasteful to you, Violet?" he gravely asked, when hecould command himself to speak. "I was led to believe--I hoped that itwould meet with a ready response from you. "

"Oh, Lord Cameron! I do not know what to say to you, " Violet began, in atrembling voice. Then resolutely repressing her emotion, she continued:"I have known, of course, that you regarded me in a very friendly way;but it almost frightens me to have you express yourself so strongly asyou have just done. "

"Frightens you to learn of the depth of my affection, " he said, withsome surprise. 

"Yes--to know that it has taken such a hold upon your life and that sucha responsibility has fallen upon me. I know that you are good, and true, and noble, and you have my deepest esteem; but--but oh----"

"Violet, what does this mean? I do not understand your distress at all, "Lord Cameron said, looking deeply pained. 

"Did not my sister tell you that I had a confession to make to you?" theyoung girl asked, with burning cheeks. 

"No, " the young man returned, very gravely; "she told me that you wouldreceive me--that I might hope for a favorable answer to my suit. She didhint, however, that there had once been a childish attachment, as sheexpressed it; but I hardly gave the matter a thought since she made solight of it. "

"Belle has done wrong, then, to let you hope for so much; and now, LordCameron, may I tell you all there is in my heart? May I make a fullconfession to you? and then you shall judge me as you will. "

"Certainly, you may tell me anything you wish, " he replied, wonderingmore and more at her excessive emotion. "Do not be so distressed, dearchild, " he added, as she covered her face with her thin hands, and hesaw the tears trickling between her fingers. "I should blame myself morethan I can tell you, for seeking this interview, if by so doing I causeyou so much unhappiness. I will even go away and never renew thissubject--though that would darken all my future life--rather thanagitate you thus. "

"Forgive me, " Violet said, wiping her tears. "I will try not to breakdown like this again, and I will deal with you with perfect frankness; Iknow I do not need to ask you to respect my confidence. "

"Thank you, " he simply answered. 

Violet then began by relating the accident of the incline plane and itsfrightful consequences; she told how, almost miraculously, she andWallace were saved; about her illness in his home, and of their growingfondness for each other during her convalescence. When she told ofWallace's confession of his love for her and hers for him, she bowed herface again upon her hands and went on, in quick, passionate tones, as ifit was too sacred to be talked about and she was anxious to have therecital over as soon as possible. She spoke of her sister's oppositionto this affection and its consequences, with all the passion and troubleit had aroused, and Vane Cameron's face grew graver, yet very tender andpitiful as she proceeded. It was all told at last--Violet had concealednothing of her affection for Wallace, nothing of her rebellion againsther sister's wishes regarding her marriage with himself, and having thusunburdened her soul, she still sat with bowed head before him, waitingfor his judgment of her. 

There was a silence of several minutes after she had concluded, whileboth seemed to be battling with the emotions which filled their hearts;then Lord Cameron spoke, and the tender cadence of his voice thrilledthe young girl as it had never done before. 

"Poor child! poor wounded, loving heart!" he said. "I wonder how youhave borne your sorrow. I know there is no human sympathy that can healyour wound--only One, who has all power, can do that. But, Violet, I cansee, even though you shrink from saying it--even though you have triedto hide as much of the wrong done you by others as you could--I can seethat you are unhappy from other causes than the loss of this dear one. Your heart is starving for sympathy, love, and comfort. Now, just asfrankly as you have talked to me, I am now going to talk to you. Youhave said that the drama of your life is played out--has ended intragedy; that you have loved and lost--your heart has exhausted itself, and you can never love again. This may be so, Violet; we will assumethat it is"--his lip quivered painfully as he said it, and his face wasvery pale--"still, in all probability, there are many years of lifebefore you--years which may be filled with much of good for those aboutyou, if not of absolute happiness for yourself. Could you make up yourmind to spend them with me? Do not be startled by the proposition, dear, " he said, as he saw the quiver that agitated her; "you shall thinkof it as long as you will, and shall not be urged to anything from whichyou shrink. I love you--that fact remains unalterable, in spite of allthat you have told me, and though your heart may not have one responsivevibration to mine, yet I feel that I would gladly devote all my futureto the work of winning you to a more cheerful frame of mind--that Ishould be happier in doing that than in living without you. Let me takecare of you. You have said you were tired of traveling--that you longfor home and rest. Come to my home--you shall have all the rest andseclusion you wish--you shall live as you will; only let me give you theprotection of my love and my name and throw around you all thecomforting influences that I can. Forgive me if I refer to your sadpast; but only for this once. The dear one whom you have honored withyour love is gone; I do not ask you to forget him, or to violate, in anyway, the affection that belongs to him; but, since your life must belived out somewhere, I ask you to let it be with me. Do not allow yoursensitiveness to restrain you--do not feel that you will be 'wrongingme' as you have expressed it, 'by giving me only the ashes of yourlove;' I shall be content if you will but come. Violet, will you?"

Violet was nearer loving him at that moment than she had ever been. 

How grand, how noble he seemed in his utter self-abnegation--thinkingonly of her and of the comfort that he might manage to throw around herbroken life!

Oh, she thought, if he was only her brother, how gladly she would gowith him and give him all the affection that a sister might bestow uponone so worthy. 

It was a great temptation as it was, for the barriers that had comebetween herself and her sister, and which she knew would become strongerand almost intolerable, if she disappointed her in her ambitiousschemes, made her feel as if it would be impossible to remain with her, and the world seemed very desolate. 

Still, to consent to become the wife of this good man, to accept all thebenefits which his position would confer upon her, to be continuallysurrounded by his care and thoughtful love, seemed the height ofselfishness to her, when she had nothing but her broken life to give inreturn, and she shrank from the sacred bond and the responsibility ofits obligations. 

"I am afraid--it does not seem right, " she faltered, yet she lifted hereyes to him with a wistfulness that was pathetic in the extreme, andwhich moved him deeply. 

"Violet, come, " he repeated, earnestly, as he held out his strong righthand to her. 

"I dare not, " she said, "and yet----"

"You want to--you will!" he cried, eagerly, as, leaning toward her, heclasped the small hand that lay upon the arm of her chair. 

It was icy cold, and glancing anxiously into her face, he saw that shehad fainted away. 

The excitement of the interview, the desolation of her wounded heart, and the longing for home and rest, were too much for her frail strength, and she had swooned, even while he thought she was consenting to be hiswife. 

He sprang to the bell and rang for assistance, then gathering her in hisarms, he gently laid her upon a sofa, just as the door opened and Mrs. Mencke entered. 

"I am afraid that I have overtaxed her strength, " Lord Cameron said, ina tone of self-reproach, as he lifted a rueful face to her. 

"Have you won?" she asked, eagerly. 

"I think so, but----"

Mrs. Mencke waited for nothing more. 

"She will soon recover from this, " she interrupted, a triumphant ring inher tone, as she began to sprinkle Violet's face with water from atumbler which she seized from a table. "Leave her with me now, and Iwill call you again when she is better. "

The young girl was already beginning to revive, and fearing that hispresence might agitate her again, Lord Cameron stole softly from theroom, but looking strangely sad for a man who believed he had prosperedin his wooing. 

"You are better, Violet, " Mrs. Mencke said, with unwonted tenderness, asher sister opened her eyes and looked around the room as if in search ofsome one. 

She brought a glass of wine to her, and putting it to her lips, bade herdrink. 

She obeyed, and the stimulating beverage soon began to warm her bloodand restore her strength. 

"Has he gone?" she asked, glancing toward the door. 

"Lord Cameron? Yes; he thought you had had excitement enough for oneday, and as soon as you began to come to yourself he stole away. Do youwish me to call him back?" her sister inquired, regarding her curiously. 

"No, " but there was a perplexed look upon her fair face. 

"He tells me that you are going to make him happy, Vio, " pursued hersister, anxious to learn just how matters stood, "that you will marryhim. I am delighted, dear, and I know that he will do all in his powerto make your life a perfect one. "

"Did he tell you that? Did I promise?" Violet cried, with a startledlook and putting her hand to her head in a dazed way. 

"Violet Huntington! what a strange child you are! Here you have justgiven a man to understand that you have accepted him and yet, when youare congratulated upon the fact, you affect not to know what you havedone!" cried Mrs. Mencke, pretending to be entirely out of patience withher. 

She meant to carry things with a high hand now. She saw that there hadbeen a momentary yielding upon Violet's part, though there was somedoubt as to just what she had intended to do, and she was determined tomake it count if she could do so by any means, legitimate or otherwise. 

"Don't be cross with me, Belle, " Violet pleaded, with a quivering lip, "for I really cannot remember. Lord Cameron was so kind, so generous, and I began to say something to him--I don't know what--when I feltqueer and knew nothing more until I awoke and found you here. "

Mrs. Mencke saw her advantage in all this, and did not fail to make themost of it. 

"Well, you must have given him to understand that you accepted him, forhe told me that he had won you, and now I hope we shall not have anymore nonsense about the matter. Lord Cameron is too good to be trifledwith. You have given your promise, and must stand by it, " she concluded, in an authoritative tone. 

"Yes, if I have promised, I suppose--I must, " gasped unhappy Violet, andthen fainted away again. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DAY IS SET FOR VIOLET'S MARRIAGE. 

Mrs. Mencke privately informed Lord Cameron that Violet had acknowledgedthe engagement, and would see him again when she was a little stronger. 

His lordship thanked her with a beaming face, and tried to think that hewas the happiest man on the Continent, but there was, nevertheless, anaching void in his heart that could not be fully satisfied with theresult of his wooing. 

The morning following his betrothal he sent Violet an exquisite bouquetcomposed of blue and white bell-flowers, cape jasmine, and box, whichbreathed to the young girl, who was versed in the language of flowers, of gratitude, constancy, and joyfulness of heart. 

She turned white and faint again at the sight of them, and abroken-hearted sob burst from her lips. 

"Did I promise? did I promise?" she moaned. "I do not remember; but ifhe says I did, it must be so, for I know that he is too noble to deceiveme. I wish I could die! for it seems like sacrilege to become LordCameron's wife when my heart is so filled with the image of another. "

Mrs. Mencke came in and found her in tears, and was secretly very muchannoyed, besides being a trifle conscience-smitten over the strategywhich she had employed to bring about this longed-for marriage. But sheexerted herself to amuse her troublesome invalid, while she told herselfthat she should consider it a lucky day when she got her off her handsaltogether. 

The second morning after matters had been thus settled, Vane Cameron wastold that he might pay his betrothed another visit. 

This he was, of course, only too glad to do, and his face lighted withpositive joy when, upon entering her presence, he saw a cluster ofbluebell flowers fastened upon her breast among the folds of her daintywhite _robe-de chambre_. 

He went forward and took both her hands in his, pressing his lips firstto one and then the other, in a chivalrous, reverent way that touchedViolet deeply, and smote her, too, with a sense of guilt and shame. 

"God is good to me in granting my heart's desire, " he said, in a low, earnest tone. "May His richest blessings be yours in the future, myViolet. "

The fair girl could not utter one word in reply. Her heart was beatingso rapidly and heavily that for a moment she thought she must suffocate, while that mute cry again went up from its wounded depths:

"Oh! Wallace, Wallace, did I promise?"

Lord Cameron saw that she was deeply agitated, and, seating himselfbeside her, he began to talk of subjects to distract her mind fromherself and their new relations to each other. 

He possessed great tact and a wonderful fund of anecdote and incident, and before he left her presence he had actually made her laugh over adroll account of an experience of the previous day. 

After that he enticed her out for a drive about the beautiful bay, andhaving once achieved this much, it was comparatively easy to plansomething for her pleasure and amusement every day. 

While Violet was with him she could not fail to feel the charm of hispresence, and she would, for the time, forget herself and her trouble;but the moment she was alone, the old aversion to the thought ofbecoming his wife, together with all her love and grief for Wallace, would revive to make her wretched. 

One day, as they were nearing their hotel after a longer drive thanusual, and Violet had seemed to enjoy herself more than she was wont todo, Lord Cameron ventured to broach a subject that lay very near hisheart. 

"Mrs. Mencke informs me that she and her husband are contemplating atour of the Alps this summer, " he remarked, by way of introduction. 

Violet looked up surprised. She had not heard her sister say anythingabout such a tour, and there was nothing that she dreaded so much, inthe present weakened state of her mind and body, as being taken about tovarious fashionable resorts and to be obliged to meet gaypleasure-seekers. 

She sighed heavily, but made no other reply to Lord Cameron'sinformation. 

"You feel that it would be rather hard for you to make such a trip, doyou not?" her companion inquired, gently. Then, without waiting for areply, he went on: "How would you like, instead, to come with me to theIsle of Wight and spend a quiet, restful summer, interspersed perhaps, with a little yachting now and then?"

A great shock went through Violet at this, as she realized that hewanted her to become his wife immediately and go home with him. 

A blur came before her eyes, a great lump seemed to rise in her throatand almost choke her. 

Oh, she thought, if she could only flee away to her own room at home inCincinnati and stay by herself, out of the sight or sound of everybody, what a relief it would be!

She shrank more and more from Belle and Will and the idea of going aboutfrom place to place with them; still, a feeling of guilt and wrongoppressed her every time she thought of marrying this good, noble man, and giving him only the ashes of a dead love in return for the wealth ofhis affection for her. 

Yet, of the two plans, the going to the Isle of Wight, to quiet andrest, seemed the most attractive, while the yachting proposal was veryalluring, for Violet was intensely fond of the sea. 

Vane Cameron was conscious of the shock which had so thrilled her, butwhether it had been caused by pleasure or repugnance he could not tell. He feared the latter, for his sweet bride-elect had, thus far, been veryunresponsive to his love and devotion. 

He sat regarding her very gravely and somewhat sadly, while she seemedto be considering his proposition. 

His thought had been more for her health and comfort than of his owndesire or pleasure, but he would not bias her decision one way or theother. 

Finally Violet lifted her eyes to his face, while a faint flush tingedher pale cheek. 

"I will do whatever you like--whatever you think best, " she said, quietly. 

His heart leaped as he remarked the flush, but he returned, earnestly, tenderly:

"Not what I would like, dear, but what you would prefer. I would notforce you a hair's breadth against your inclination, much as I long tohave you go with me. Would you enjoy the tour through the Alps with yoursister?"

"No, no!" Violet cried, in a strained, unnatural voice, as she felt thenet of circumstances closing hopelessly about her. "Oh, I wish I couldgo home!" and yet where, on the face of the earth, had she now a home?

This wistful, almost despairing cry actually brought tears to the eyesof the strong man at her side, while his heart sank heavily within him, for surely there had been no thought of him or of his great love in thathomesick wail. 

But bravely putting aside self, as he always did where she wasconcerned, he gently returned:

"You shall go home if you wish--you shall do anything you like, and Iwill not urge you to any step against which your heart rebels; still, ifyou are willing to go with me, I will gladly take you home to America. Mr. And Mrs. Mencke, I know, have no thought of returning at present, asthey have told me that they intend to travel for the next year or two, and hope to see the most of Europe during that time. It seemed to methat you were not strong enough, just now, to begin such a ceaselessround of travel, and that is why I proposed the Isle of Wight. Shall wego there to rest until you are a little more robust, and then, if youwish, we will return to America?"

How good--how kind he was! And if he had only been her brother, Violetcould have thrown herself upon his breast and wept out her gratitude forand appreciation of his thoughtfulness. 

But to speak the words that would settle her destiny for life--to tellhim that she would become his wife immediately--how could she?

Still she knew it must be one thing or the other--either a hurry andrush over Europe with uncongenial companions, or a going away to somepeaceful retreat as the Countess of Sutherland. 

At last, with a mighty effort to control the nervous trembling thatseized her, but with a sense of despair in her heart, she murmured, in ascarcely audible voice:

"I will go to the Isle of Wight. "

Vane Cameron made no reply to this, though his heart gave a great leapof gladness. He simply laid one hand gently and tenderly upon hers for amoment, then touching up his horse, drove rapidly up the avenue leadingto the hotel, where upon the wide piazza, they saw Mr. And Mrs. Menckeseated among the other guests of the house. 

"May I tell your sister that you have decided against the tour throughthe Alps?" Vane whispered, as he lifted Violet's light form from thecarriage. 

"Yes, " she assented, and then fled to her own room, where she sanknearly fainting upon her bed. 

She felt that she was irrevocably bound now; that she had given herunqualified consent to become Lord Cameron's wife. She would soon be acountess and occupy a position which half the women in Europe wouldenvy, and yet she was utterly wretched. 

A little later her sister came to her, and in all her life Violet couldnot remember that she had ever manifested so much affection for her. 

"Vane has told me, " she said, in an exultant tone, as she bent down andsoftly kissed Violet's forehead. "I am very glad, and I fully agree withhim that it will be best for you to go quietly to the Isle of Wightuntil your health is fully established. He says he has a yacht therealso, and intends to give you an occasional taste of the ocean which youlove so much. It will be delightful. And now we must begin to think ofthe necessary preparations, for Vane says, if you are agreeable, hewould like the marriage to take place just a month from to-day, when youwill start immediately for England. "

For the life of her Violet could not prevent the shiver which shook herfrom head to foot at this announcement, and a wild desire for death andoblivion shot through her heart. 

"Well, dear, what shall I tell him?" Belle asked, after waiting sometime for a response and receiving none. 

"Suit yourselves--it makes no difference to me, " Violet said, wearily, and though it was a rather doubtful and unsatisfactory concession, Mrs. Mencke made the most of it; and, feeling perfectly jubilant over thishappy termination to all her ambitious plotting and scheming, she stoleaway to impart the gratifying information to her husband, who, of late, had seemed to be very impatient of the delay to bring matters to acrisis. 

They did not trouble the young girl much after that. Vane said she mustnot be annoyed by petty details, so he took everything that was possibleupon himself. 

Matters of importance, which he did not feel at liberty to decide alone, he submitted to Mrs. Mencke, who pretended to consult Violet; but it wasonly pretense, for she settled everything to suit herself, and thepreparations for the wedding went steadily and rapidly forward. 

The ambitious woman was so delighted that she felt she must have someoutlet for her feelings, which would have been out of taste for her toexhibit there, so she sent notices to different American papers of theapproaching marriage of her sister, "Miss Violet Draper Huntington tohis lordship the Earl of Sutherland, " etc. Etc. 

Violet kept her room most of the time, for she shrank from mingling withthe guests of the hotel, since she knew there would be a great deal ofgossip over her approaching nuptials, and she did not like to beconspicuous. 

She drove nearly every day with her betrothed, however, and while withhim exerted herself to appear interested and entertained, and gratefulfor his unwearied kindness. 

He was very considerate of her feelings--he seldom referred to theirapproaching marriage, but sought by every means in his power to keep hermind engaged with amusing and pleasant topics. 

The ceremony was to be performed in the English church of the place, andMrs. Mencke had sent to Paris for a suitable trousseau for the occasion. She had spared no expense, for she was determined that the affair shouldbe as brilliant as circumstances would permit. 

The day preceding that set for the wedding Violet was so ill--so nervousand prostrated by her increasing dread and sense of wrong as the fatalhour drew near--that she did not rise until noon, while it was nearlyevening before she felt able to grant Vane an interview which heparticularly requested. 

He startled back appalled, when, as he entered her parlor, she turnedher wan, colorless face toward him. 

"You are ill! I had no idea that you were so sick!" he cried, in a voiceof deep concern and surprise, for Mrs. Mencke had made light of Violet'sindisposition. 

"No, not ill, only tired and a little nervous, " she replied, trying tosmile, reassuringly. 

He sat down beside her and began to tell her about the arrangements hehad made for going "home, " and she was touched to see how, in everydetail, he had had only her comfort and pleasure in mind. 

"Shall you like it?" he asked, when he had sketched the proposed journeyto her. 

"Yes, thank you; you are very kind, " she tried to say, heartily, but, inspite of her effort, the tone sounded cold and formal. 

The young man's face fell. He had so hoped to see hers light up withanticipation. 

"Is there anything that you would like changed? Would you prefer to goanother way, or to take in other places on the route?" he asked, wishing, oh, so earnestly, that she would express some preference, oreven make some objection to his plans; anything would be more endurablethan such apathetic acquiescence. 

"No, let it stand, please, just as you have it, " she answered, in asomewhat weary tone. 

"Have you everything you wish? Are there no little things that youneed--that have been overlooked--for--to-morrow?" he asked, wistfully, his voice dropping to a tender cadence at that last word, as he realizedhow nearly the one great desire of his heart was within his grasp. 

Was it his imagination, or did a shiver of repulsion run over Violet'sframe at this reference to their wedding-day?

She was as white as the fleecy shawl that was thrown about hershoulders, and there was a pathetic droop about her lovely mouth thatpained him exceedingly. 

"No, thank you, " she quietly replied; "Belle has attended toeverything. "

He arose, feeling disappointed. If she had made but a single request ofhim, no matter how simple, it would have made him so happy to executeit; but his hands were tied--he could not force favors upon her. 

"I will not remain longer, dear, " he said, gently; "I want you to getall the rest possible to-night, so as to be strong for our journeyto-morrow. "

Violet arose also, and stood pale and motionless before him. She wasvery lovely, and he never forgot the picture she made, with the crimsonlight of the setting sun flooding her white-robed form, tinging her paleface with an exquisite color, and giving a deeper, richer tint to hergolden hair. 

Oh, if he had but been sure of her love, how supremely happy they mightbe, he thought, with all the bright prospects before him. 

An irrepressible wave of tenderness and longing swept over him, and, involuntarily reaching out his arms, he drew her gently within hisembrace. 

"My darling, " he whispered, "you are all the world to me. I pray that Imay be able to prove to you by and by, how wholly you occupy this heartof mine. "

He lifted her face with one hand and searched it earnestly for a moment, then, bending forward, he pressed his lips to hers in a lingeringcaress. 

It was the first time that he had kissed her, or made any outwarddemonstration of his great love since their betrothal. 

Violet broke away from him, with a low, thrilling cry of anguish, andsank, pale and quivering in every nerve, into the chair from which shehad just arisen. 

That caress had recalled the last passionate kiss of farewell thatWallace had given her just before the steamer left its pier in New York, while it had also revealed to her the fact that he would always be moreto her, even though he were dead, than Lord Cameron, with all his love, his goodness, and generosity, could ever hope to be, living. 

He was deeply hurt, however, by this repulse and her cry of despair. Hestood for a moment looking down upon her, mingled pain and remorse forwhat he had done plainly written on his face. Then he said, in arepressed tone:

"Forgive me, Violet; I will try not to wound you thus again. "

She threw out her hand to him with an appealing gesture, conscience-smitten, for his tone plainly told her how deeply she hadhurt him. 

"Forgive me, " she said, contritely, a little sob pointing her words. 

He took the hand and pressed it gently. 

"I have nothing to forgive, dear. Now good-night, and try to sleepwell, " he returned kindly, and then went softly out from her presence, but looking grave and troubled. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

"THERE WILL BE NO WEDDING TO-DAY. "

"Oh, if my mother were only alive!" burst passionately from Violet'slips, as the door closed after her betrothed. "My heart is broken, andthere is no one in the wide, wide world to whom I can tell my trouble. Ihave no friends, no home, and am forced to marry a man whom I do notlove, in order to find one. Belle, who ought to care for me, sympathizewith, and comfort me, thinks only of the wealth and position I am tosecure, and"--a bitter smile curling her lips--"is even greatly elatedat the prospect of getting rid of me in such fine style. I cannot--Icannot bear it; and to-morrow--to-morrow I am to be bound for life!"

She sprang wildly to her feet, a bright spot of fever burning upon eachcheek, and began pacing the floor with nervous tread. For an hour shekept this up, going mechanically from one end of the luxurious apartmentto the other, apparently unconscious of what she was doing. 

In the midst of this almost frantic state of mind Mrs. Mencke camesweeping in upon her. 

"What ails you, Violet?" she demanded, regarding her with anxious eyes. "You have been moving about incessantly during the last hour. You mustnot work yourself into such a nervous state, or you will be whollyunfitted for the ceremony to-morrow. I want you to look your best, andyou will surely be pale and hollow-eyed, if not positively ill, if youkeep on at this rate. Besides, Lady Isabella arrived a short time ago, and has asked to be allowed to see you for a little while. "

"Oh! I cannot see her to-night, Belle. Let me alone for the few hoursthat remain to me, " Violet moaned, as she threw herself upon the loungeand buried her hot face in the cool, silken pillow. 

"The few hours that remain to you, indeed! One would think you wereabout to be executed, instead of married to an earl. Do not be soinsufferably childish, " returned her sister, impatiently. "There will beno time to-morrow for you to see Lady Cameron, and it is uncourteous, uncivil to refuse her request. "

Violet made no response to this; she was too weak and wretched to assertherself, and she knew that Belle would carry her point regarding thisinterview as she had done in all other things of late. 

Mrs. Mencke brought her some quieting drops, which she obedientlyswallowed, and after a few moments began to grow more composed. 

"I will tell Lady Cameron that you are nervous and tired, and ask hernot to stay long, " Belle said, when she saw that Violet was more calm;"but you must see her for a few minutes, and I hope you will have thegood taste not to offend her in any way, " she concluded, significantly. 

"Very well; let her come, " Violet answered, resignedly, and thinking itbetter to have the ordeal over as soon as possible. 

She had always liked and admired Lady Cameron; had always enjoyed hersociety, and, under other circumstances, would have been glad to see hernow; but everything and every one connected with her approachingmarriage seemed positively hateful to her, in her present state. 

Mrs. Mencke did not wait for her to change her mind, but wentimmediately to tell her ladyship that Violet would see her, and a fewminutes later, there came a gentle knock upon the door of the younggirl's room. 

Before she could arise to admit her visitor, it was softly opened, and alovely, sweet-faced lady of about fifty years entered. 

She was clad in a simple yet elegant costume of silver-gray silk, trimmed with rich black lace. A cluster of pearls gleamed fair and whiteat her throat, and a dainty little cap of costly lace rested lightlyupon her soft, brown hair, which as yet had not a visible thread ofsilver in it. 

"Do not rise, dear, " she said, as Violet attempted to do so. "Yoursister has told me that you are still far from being well, and that Imust not stay long. Let me sit right here beside you, " she continued, drawing a low rocker close to the lounge, and then, bending down, shekissed Violet fondly upon the forehead. 

Violet returned her greeting with what composure she could, but theobserving lady could easily see that it required a great effort, although she imagined that embarrassment was the cause. 

"I knew that I could not see you to-morrow, " she resumed, "and I felt asif I must have just a few minutes' chat with you on this last evening ofyour maiden life. You have no mother, dear, and though I am sure yoursister has tried to do everything that was wise and kind, yet she cannotquite take the place of a mother at such a time as this, and my heartyearned to come to you. "

Violet was deeply moved by these kind words, and she clasped moreclosely the hand that had sought hers in such fond sympathy. Still herheart ached more keenly, if that were possible, than before, while afeeling of guilt stole over her--a consciousness of wrong toward thisloving mother in the injury she felt she was about to do her son. 

"I was wishing for my mother just as you came, " she murmured, a littlesob bursting from her lips. 

Lady Isabel leaned forward and wound her arms about the slight form ofthe girl. 

"Then, dear child, let me take her place, as far as I can, " she said, ina low, winning tone; "and to-morrow you will have the right to call meby that sacred name, while I shall have a dear daughter. Ah, Violet, Icannot tell you how much I have always wanted a daughter--one who wouldbe a companion and a confidante. But I have had only my son until now. My dear, I know we shall love each other, and I am looking forward, withmore delight than I can express, to the future when you will belong tous and brighten our home with your fresh young life. I have been drawntoward you from the first day of our meeting in London, and if Vane hadasked me to select a bride for him, I could not have chosen one more tomy mind. I know that you will make him a very loving and faithful wife. "How Violet cringed beneath those words, which so plainly told her thatVane had not confided to his mother the doubtful relations that existedbetween them! "He is a noble fellow, " the fond woman went on; "he wasalways a good and dutiful boy, and has been such a comfort to me. Betterthan all, Violet, he is a true Christian, and it is delightful to hearhim talk of his plans regarding the welfare of his tenants, and of theimprovements he hopes to make in the condition of the poor upon hisestates. Do you know, " she continued, with a sweet seriousness that wasvery charming, "that I think it is a great thing--a wonderful thing foran earl to be such a Christian, and one who wishes so earnestly to carryhis Christianity into his every-day life? There is so muchresponsibility in such a position, and such an opportunity for doinggood. You are a Christian also, are you not, Violet? and you willsympathize with and help Vane carry out all his plans? What is it, dear?"

This last anxious question was drawn forth by the violent start whichViolet had given, as a new and solemn thought suddenly burst upon her atthese probing questions. 

"Am I wearying you--are you feeling ill?" she added, regarding her withdeep concern. 

With a great effort Violet controlled the trembling that had seized her, and strove to reply calmly:

"No, I am not ill, dear Lady Cameron, but your asking me if I am aChristian made me suddenly remember something that I had not thought ofbefore. "

"What was that, dear?" Lady Isabel questioned. "Unburden yourself justas you would to your own mother on this last night of your single life. "

An expression of pain clouded Violet's brow, but after a moment shesaid, gravely:

"Yes, I have called myself a Christian for more than a year, and Ibelieve my strongest desire is to do what is right always; but life hasso many temptations that I know I have often failed. I will try--to doright in the future, " she went on, but seemingly strangely agitated, hercompanion thought. "I will do what I can to--to make Lord Cameron--atleast, I will try not to hinder him in any good work. I would like tomake him happy and you--dear Lady Cameron, I truly wish that I mightmake you happy also, " Violet concluded, raising her head from her pillowand looking eagerly, wistfully into the beautiful face beside her. 

The lady bent and kissed her again, though she wondered a little at theundertone of pain and passion that rang through her words. 

"With such a spirit I am sure you cannot fail to be a help to Vane, andI know we shall all be very happy, " she said fondly. 

Still Violet continued to regard her with that earnest, wistful look, while the nervous trembling, which she strove so hard to conceal, beganto be apparent in spite of her efforts. 

"I hope, " she said, timidly, appealingly, "that you will always believein me. I am liable to be mistaken in my view of what is right--promiseme, oh, promise me, that, whatever I may do, you will trust me--you willbelieve that I want to be true, and that you will never cease to thinkkindly of me. "

She clung to her companion with passionate longing, her hot little handsgrasping hers with a painful, trembling clasp, while she seemed socompletely unstrung by some inward emotion that Lady Cameron wasalarmed. 

"My dear child, this will never do, " she said, regarding her anxiously, "you must not allow yourself to become so excited, and I blame myselffor directing our conversation into such a serious channel. I must runaway at once and leave you to get calm. Of course, my love, I shallalways trust you, while you already have such a firm hold upon my heartthat I do not believe I could cease to love you if I would. There, youshall not talk any more, " as Violet opened her lips as if to speak;"good-night, pleasant dreams, and a refreshing slumber. This, " with alight laugh, "is the last kiss I shall ever give Violet Huntington; whennext my lips touch yours you will be somebody's dear wife. "

With a lingering caress the beautiful woman released her from her arms, and then stole softly from the room, thinking what a sweet, lovable wifeVane would have on the morrow. 

But if she could have seen Violet as she lay there on her couch aftershe had gone, she would have marveled more than she had done over herprevious excitement. 

She clasped her hands across her eyes as if to shut out some dreadfulvision, and seemed to cower and shrink as if some one was smiting herwith a stinging lash. 

"Oh, what have I done!" she moaned. "A Christian, and on the point ofperjuring myself before God's altar! A Christian, and weakly yielding towhat I know would be a sin of deepest dye! A Christian, and consentingto take the poison of my wretchedness--of a heart that is filled with ahopeless love for another--into a good man's life and home! No--athousand times no! I have been blind, wicked, reckless. Vane Cameron istoo good a man to have his life hampered and ruined thus, and I honorhim far too much to do him such wrong, now that I see it in its truelight. Oh, if he were but my brother, with his noble principles, hisstrong, true heart and boundless sympathy, I could stand by him, helphim to carry out the good that he has planned, and devote my whole lifeto him; but as his wife--never!" and she broke into a perfect tempest oftears and sobs as she arrived at this crisis. 

Daylight faded; the last crimson flush died out of the western sky;darkness settled upon the mountain-tops that overlooked the beautifulbay, and gradually wrapping itself about them like a mantle, finallydropped like a pall upon the gay watering-place and the adjacentvillage, which all day long had been in a fever of excitement andexpectation over the prospect of the grand wedding that was to occur onthe morrow. 

Nothing else had been talked of for a week, and everybody was anxious tosee the beautiful girl whom the distinguished English earl had won, butwho had so resolutely secluded herself that but very few had had even aglimpse of her face; but on the morrow everybody would have anopportunity to judge for themselves, whether she was one who would honorthe high position which had been offered her. 

About nine o'clock Mrs. Mencke went up to her sister's room to see ifshe needed anything before retiring. 

She tried the door and found it locked. 

"Are you in bed, Violet?" she called, in a low tone, with her lips atthe key-hole. 

"No, Belle, but I am busy with a little writing which I wish to do, "Violet answered, in calm, even tones. "But never mind me--go back toyour dancing; I can take care of myself and would rather not bedisturbed by any one again to-night. "

"I will come up again in half an hour, " Mrs. Mencke returned, notsatisfied to leave her thus for the night. 

"No, do not, Belle, please--I prefer that you should not, " pleaded hersister. 

"Will you be sure to take your drops? You will need all the strengththat you can get for to-morrow, " persisted Mrs. Mencke. 

"Yes, I will take them; I know that I shall need strength, " was thegrave reply. 

"All right; good-night, then, and a good rest to you, " said Mrs. Mencke, and the rustle of her silken garments on the stairs, a moment later, told Violet that she had gone back to the gay company below which sheenjoyed so much. 

Two hours later, when she came up to bed, she stopped again beforeViolet's door, as she was passing to her own room, and bent her head tolisten. 

All was quiet within, except for the ticking of the clock which stood ona bracket near the door, and which, somehow, sounded strangely clear, and almost seemed to give an ominous click with each motion of itspendulum. 

She did not try to enter; she thought if Violet was sleeping quietly itwould be unwise to disturb her, and so she moved on to her own chamber, yet with a somewhat anxious and unsatisfied feeling at her heart. 

She slept very soundly, and did not awake until nearly eight o'clock thenext morning. Her husband had gone to Nice a couple of days previous, and was to return on the first train that day, so there had been nomovement in her room to disturb her. 

When she realized how late it was, and how much there was to be done, for the wedding had been set for eleven o'clock, she sprang from herbed, and hastily throwing on her clothing, went immediately to Violet'sapartments. 

The door yielded to her touch, and she entered the parlor, to find noone there. 

She passed on to Violet's chamber, and rapped upon the door. 

There was no answer, and entering, she was surprised to see that it wasempty, and somewhat startled, also, to see that the bed was nicely made, and the room in perfect order. 

"What can this mean?" she muttered, and then rang the bell a vigorouspeal. 

A servant answered it immediately. 

"Have you been called to attend Miss Huntington this morning?" shedemanded. 

"No, madame. "

"Have you seen her anywhere about the house?" Mrs. Mencke questioned, greatly perplexed by her sister's strange movements. 

"No, madam. "

"What! did you not put her room in order this morning?" she asked, sharply. 

Again she was doomed to hear the simple, respectful, "No, madame. "

More and more perplexed, and not a little alarmed, Mrs. Mencke hastenedout into the hall, and was proceeding down stairs to seek Lord Cameron, when she met him just coming up to inquire for his betrothed. 

He greeted her with his usual courteous manner; then, observing hertroubled look, became suddenly grave. 

"What is it?" he quickly asked. "I hope Violet is not ill. "

"No--I do not know--I--I--have you seen her?" faltered and stumbled Mrs. Mencke, in a tone of distress. 

"Seen her?" the young man replied, greatly surprised; for on thismorning, of all others, Violet would, of course, be supposed to beinvisible. "No; certainly not, " he added, recovering himself. "Is shenot in her room?"

"No, and it looks as if it had not been occupied during the night, " Mrs. Mencke whispered, with pale lips. 

"Do not tell me that, " Lord Cameron said, sternly, his face growingashen pale at the information. 

He turned, and leaping two stairs at a time, was at the top in a moment, and striding forward toward Violet's room. 

Reaching it, he stopped, his innate delicacy forbidding him to enterwithout permission, and waited until Mrs. Mencke joined him. 

They went in together, and he observed with a terrible heart-sinking theperfect order in which everything had been left in both rooms. 

Mrs. Mencke explained that she had questioned the chambermaid, but thatshe knew nothing about Violet's movements. 

"She may have gone out for a walk--to get the air, " the wretchedgroom-elect remarked, but he was white to his lips as he said it. 

"Gone out for a walk on her wedding-morning, when there was scarcelytime to prepare for the ceremony! I wish I could even believe itpossible that she would do such an unheard-of thing, " said Mrs. Mencke, in a tone of despair, and feeling nearly paralyzed by this sudden andinexplicable absence. 

Nevertheless they exerted themselves to ascertain if the missingbride-elect was anywhere about the premises, Lord Cameron, with theproprietor of the hotel, to whom alone he confided his trouble, goingout in search of her. 

Meantime Mrs. Mencke went back to Violet's rooms to ascertain ifanything was missing, but everything appeared to be in its accustomedplace. Every drawer was daintily arranged, as she was in the habit ofkeeping them; all her jewels, laces, and ribbons were in theirrespective boxes; even the rings, which she usually wore, lay upon herpincushion, where she always put them before taking a bath. 

Her dresses hung in her wardrobe--all but the traveling dress which shehad worn when she came to Mentone. It was a dark-gray cloth, trimmedwith narrow bands of blue silk. The hat to match, with its bows of bluevelvet, and a single gray wing, together with a thick blue vail, werealso missing, and a pair of thick walking-boots, together with a lighttraveling shawl. 

Beyond these few things nothing, as far as she could ascertain upon sohasty an examination, was gone; not even a change of clothing, toiletarticles, or a traveling-bag, things which Violet would be sure to needif she had contemplated flight. 

Mrs. Mencke was somewhat reassured after these investigations, and triedto think that her sister had gone out for a walk--possibly to the townto post the letter she had been writing the previous night, rather thanto wait for it to go later with the hotel mail. 

Still, she was terribly anxious, and her face was pallid with fear andanxiety. 

She had staked so much--far more than any one save herself knew--toachieve this brilliant marriage for Violet, and it seemed more than shecould bear to have it fail at the last moment, and after all the heavyexpense of the beautiful trousseau from Worth's. 

She wandered restlessly from room to room in an agony of suspense, LadyCameron following her and vainly trying to speak words of comfort andcheer, while they waited for the return of those who had gone to searchfor the missing one. 

Lord Cameron came back after a time, accompanied by Mr. Mencke, who hadarrived on the first train from Nice, but he brought no tidings ofViolet. 

"There will be no wedding to-day, even if she is found, " he said, with astern, set face, "so let all preparations be stopped at once. "

Then without another word, he went out, mounted his horse, and rode awaytoward the mountains. 

The wretched day passed, and evening shut down again upon the place, where but one theme was thought of or talked about. Many believed thatthe young girl had gone out for a walk in the early morning and had, perhaps, fallen into some ravine among the mountains, or into the seaand been drowned. 

There were only a few who thought otherwise, and these were Mr. And Mrs. Mencke, Lord Cameron, and his mother. 

Mr. And Mrs. Mencke did not lisp their suspicions that Violet might havefled from an uncongenial marriage to a suicide's fate; but Lord Cameron, who remembered his last interview with his betrothed, had a terriblefear that such might be the case; while Lady Cameron, having told him ofViolet's strange excitement and remarks of the evening previous, suggested that she might have fled to escape wronging him and beinguntrue to herself. 

"It may be so, " the wretched young man said, "but oh, I fear she isdead. I shall search for her until I am satisfied of either one thing orthe other. "

When Lord Cameron had said there would be no wedding, even if Violetwere found, Mrs. Mencke went away and shut herself in the room whereViolet was to have dressed for her bridal, and where, spread out beforeher, were the lovely dress of white silk tulle, with its delicategarnishings of lilies of the valley and white violets the beautifulBrussels net vail, with its chaplet of the same flowers, the daintywhite satin boots, gloves, and handkerchief; and there she gave vent tothe rage, disappointment, and grief which she could no longer contain. 

It was the most wretched day of her whole life, and she afterwardconfessed that there, for the first time, in the presence of thesevoiceless accusers of her for her treachery and heartlessness toward theyoung girl whom she should have tenderly cherished and shielded from allunhappiness, her guilty conscience began to upbraid her, and remorse tosting her with their relentless lashings. 

CHAPTER XV. 

"SHE IS MY WIFE. "

It was later in the season than people were in the habit of remaining atMentone; but the unusual attraction of a wedding in high life hadinduced many to delay their departure and so a large number had tarried, much to the gratification and profit of hotel proprietors and othernatives, only to be disappointed by missing the wedding, after all. 

Everything possible was done to obtain some clew to the missing girl, but all to no purpose. Three weeks went by, and every one, save LordCameron, had given up all hope of ever solving the sad mystery. He alonestill patiently kept up his search day by day. 

By the beginning of the fourth week, Mr. And Mrs. Mencke both agreedthat the girl must be dead, and announced their intention of leaving ina few days for Switzerland. Mrs. Mencke was so confirmed in her opinionthat Violet was not living that she assumed mourning for her, and whileshe remained in Mentone her deeply bordered handkerchiefs were never outof her hands, and were frequently brought into ostentatious use. 

The day before the one set for their departure was intensely warm andoppressive, and everybody was almost prostrated by the heat. 

Lady Cameron and Mrs. Mencke could only exist by lying, lightly clad, inhammocks swung upon the north piazza of the hotel, while Mr. Menckeidled away the hours as best he could, in the smoking and reading-room, or in imbibing mint juleps. 

Lord Cameron, as was his invariable custom, had departed, in spite ofthe heat, upon one of his long rides immediately after breakfast. Hisquest for the girl whom he had so fondly loved was becoming almost amania. 

He had grown thin and pale; his appetite failed, until he seemed not toeat sufficient to keep life in him. He was depressed, and absent-minded, and so nervous and restless that his mother suffered the keenest anxietylest all this strain upon his mind and body should end in insanity!

"Oh, what an interminable day this has seemed!" sighed Lady Cameron toher companion, as, soft on the saltry stillness of the air, there cameto them the sound of a distant church clock striking the hour of six. "Ihope I may never pass another like it--I could neither read nor work, while my thoughts and the dread of something--I know not what--havenearly driven me wild. "

Mrs. Mencke shivered, in spite of the heat, at these words. She also hadfelt as if she could never live through another twelve hours like thepast, and she believed if she could but once get away from the placewhere she had suffered so much of disappointment and wretchedness, thisterrible oppression and weight would in a measure disappear. 

Tomorrow they would go, and she longed for tomorrow to come. During thelatter part of the afternoon she had simply lain still and watched thelengthening shadows, which told that the sun was declining and eveningdrawing on apace, and longed for night and slumber to lock her senses inoblivion. 

"I believe the name of Mentone will always give me a chill after this, "she said, in a husky tone. 

"Hark! is not that the sound of a horse's hoofs?" cried Lady Cameron, starting up to look down the road. "Yes, there comes Vane and--Mrs. Mencke, he is riding at a break-neck pace! Can he--do you believe he hasany--news?"

The woman was so overcome by the thought that the last word was utteredin a whisper, while her eager eyes were intently fastened upon theapproaching horseman. 

Mrs. Mencke started to a sitting posture, and waited with breathlessinterest for Lord Cameron to arrive. 

Nearer and nearer he came, and now they could see that his noble steedwas flecked with foam. 

Vane checked his headlong speed as he caught sight of the two figuresupon the piazza; but, as he entered the grounds of the hotel, bothladies could see that his face was frightful in its ghastliness. Instinctively they knew that he was the bearer of evil tidings. 

Arriving at the steps, he threw his bridle to a man who approached totake his horse, then turned to enter the hotel. 

"Vane--you have--news!" his mother said, in an awe-stricken voice, asshe went forward to meet him. 

He glanced up at her, and the sympathy and love written on her gentleface seemed to unman him for a moment. 

He staggered, reeled, and then caught at a post, while he put his handto his head and groaned aloud with anguish. 

"Tell me, " gasped Mrs. Mencke, coming toward him, her own face now aswhite as his, "have you heard anything of--Violet?"

He nodded, but hid his face from the gaze of the two women, while ashudder shook him from head to foot; then he said, in a hollow tone:

"Yes--she is found. "

"Found!" repeated his startled hearers, in shrill, tense voices. "Where?Alive?"

He shook his head at that last word. 

"Dead!" whispered Mrs. Mencke, hoarsely. 

"Dead, " said Lord Cameron, in an awful tone and with another groan. 

Then with a mighty effort he partially recovered his composure, madethem sit down, and told them as briefly as he could all about hisdreadful day. 

He had started out that morning determined to make one last vigorouseffort--to spare neither himself, his horse, nor his purse to gain someclew; then, if he learned nothing of the fate of his lost love, he wouldgive up his search and go home to England with his mother. 

He followed the coast along the gulf, as he had done a dozen timesbefore, but intending to extend his search farther than he had yet done. He rode many miles, until the heat became so intense that he was forcedto turn back without as yet having made any discovery. 

Suddenly, however, as he was nearing Mentone, he saw a group offishermen gathered around something which they had evidently just drawnfrom the water at the foot of a cliff, along the edge of which thehighway ran. 

Approaching nearer, he saw what appeared to be a long black object, andknew that it was contemplated with horror by the spectators, for themen's faces were gray and awe-stricken. 

A nameless fear seized upon his own heart, and leaping from his horse, he fastened him to a tree, and springing down the cliff with all thespeed he could force into his faltering feet, he saw, while a groan ofdespair burst from him, that the object lying upon the beach was thebody of a woman. 

Such a horror he had never looked upon before--he hoped never to lookupon again. 

The woman was clad, not in black, as he had at first thought, but in adark gray suit trimmed with bands of blue silk. Upon the head was a greyhat, also trimmed with blue, and having a gray wing among the folds ofvelvet, and wound about this was a thick blue vail. 

"Violet?" moaned Mrs. Mencke, with a shiver, as Lord Cameron reachedthis portion of his tale. 

"Yes, Violet, without any doubt, " he answered, in a hollow voice, "forthe clothing all corresponded exactly with your description of what shewore away; but otherwise she was past all recognition, excepting thehair, which was golden like hers, though sadly matted and disheveled bythe action of the sea. What her object was in leaving the hotel we canprobably never know; perhaps it was simply a walk--I hope that was herobject, " the young man said, something like a sob bursting from him;"but she must have wandered too near the edge of the cliff, missed herfoothold, and fallen into the sea. The coast is very bold nearthere--overhanging the water in many places, while the road runs verynear the edge of the cliff. It was a terrible fate for the poor child, and the experiences of this day will haunt me as long as I live. "

It was a horrible story, gently as he tried to break it to them, and thehearts of his listeners stood still with awe and misery. And yet, dreadful as it was, they all felt that the certainty of knowing thatViolet was no more, did not equal the agonizing suspense which hadtortured them during the last four weeks. 

There was not much sleep for any of them that night, and Lord Cameronlooked as if he had just risen from a long illness when he appeared thenext morning. 

He was calmer, however, than on the previous evening, and went about hissad duties with a sorrowful dignity which deeply impressed and touchedevery one. 

Of course all thoughts of any of the party leaving Mentone for the nextfew days were given up, for their loved dead must be cared for beforethey could turn their faces northward. 

The authorities would not allow the body to be removed from the place;but ordered that the young girl should be buried there without delay. 

After this was attended to, the few mourning friends, together with manysympathizing residents of Mentone, gathered in the church, where thegrand wedding was to have taken place, and a simple memorial service wasobserved, after which they all repaired to the spot where theunfortunate girl had been laid to rest. 

Lord Cameron had chosen the spot, which was a little remote from othergraves in the place of burial and beneath a beautiful, wide-spreadingbeech. The low mound had been covered with myrtle and a profusion ofchoice flowers, the greensward was like velvet about it, and not faraway could be seen the deep blue sea which Violet had loved so much. 

Mrs. Mencke appeared to be greatly overcome as she visited this lonelygrave, and many glances of sympathy were bent upon her by those gatheredabout; but they could not know of the guilty secret which lay so heavilyupon her conscience and caused remorse to outweigh whatever of naturalgrief she might otherwise have experienced. She alone knew that she waswholly responsible for all the sorrow and trouble which had thusovertaken the fair girl in the very morning of her life. 

The next day they all spent in resting, for they had arranged to leaveMentone the following morning. 

Lady Cameron and Mrs. Mencke remained in their rooms until evening, onlycoming down to join the gentlemen after tea for a little while. 

They were gathered in a small private parlor, where each seemed tostrive to assume a cheerfulness which no one felt. 

Suddenly there came a sharp, imperative knock upon the door. 

Lord Cameron arose to open it, and found himself face to face with ayoung man several years his junior, and who would have been regarded asstrikingly handsome but for the worn and haggard look upon his face, andthe wild, almost insane expression in his restless eyes. 

Vane bowed to him courteously, then inquired:

"Can I do anything for you, sir? Whom do you wish to see?"

"Lord Cameron, Earl of Sutherland, " was the brief but stern reply. 

"I am he, " the young man began, when his visitor unceremoniously pushedhis way into the room, closing the door behind him. 

At this act Wilhelm Mencke and his wife started to their feet, one witha cry of surprise and dismay, the other with an oath of anger, whileboth had grown deathly pale. 

"Pardon me, sir, but are you not somewhat brusque and uncourteous inyour demeanor?" Vane demanded, with some hauteur. "Who are you, and whatdo you want?"

"I want to meet the woman whom report says you are to marry or havemarried. I want to meet her here and now, in your presence, " was thequick, passionate, quivering response. 

Lord Cameron shuddered and grew white to his lips at this imperativedemand, and wondered if the man was mad. 

"That is impossible, " he said, in a husky voice. Then he added, in aconciliatory tone, for something seemed to tell him that the man was ingreat mental suffering, though he had not a suspicion of its cause: "Butpray explain why you make such a request. Who are you sir?"

"My name is Wallace Hamilton Richardson, " tersely returned the stranger. 

Vane Cameron recoiled as if the man had struck him a blow instead ofsimply stating his name. 

He was so much overcome by the announcement that those observing himfeared he was upon the point of fainting, strong man though he was. 

"Wallace Richardson--from America?" he whispered, hoarsely. 

"Yes. "

"I--I thought you were dead! She believed you were dead!" the young lordreturned, with ashen lips. 

"Dead!" repeated Wallace, wonderingly, his hitherto inflexible facesoftening a trifle. "Oh, say it again--does Violet really believe that Iam dead?" and the eager, quivering tones rang sharply through the room. 

"Yes, she believes so; it was so announced in one of the Americanpapers, " Lord Cameron replied, with something more of composure, butnever losing that first look of horror. 

Like a flash Wallace wheeled about and faced Wilhelm Mencke and histrembling wife. 

"Then that was some more of your miserable work!" he cried, in aterrible voice, "a diabolical plot to separate us. From the first youhave left nothing undone to part us, and so, when all else failed, youreported me dead, knowing well that she would never marry another whileshe believed me to be living. Oh! I see it all now, and my love, mylove, I have wronged you!" he concluded, in a tone of anguish. 

When he had turned with such fiery denunciation upon them, Mrs. Menckeshrank from him with such an expression of awe, fear, and guilt upon herface, that she was instantly self-condemned; every one in the room wasas sure that she had caused that lying paragraph, announcing Wallace'sdeath, to be inserted in the paper to mislead Violet, as if she hadopenly confessed it. 

"Did you do it--did you drive that poor child thus to promise to becomemy wife?" demanded Lord Cameron, in a voice that was like the ominouscalm before a tempest. 

The woman was speechless; but her guilty eyes drooped beneath his sternlook, for she knew that her miserable secret was revealed. 

"You do not know what you have done, " Wallace cried, growing wild again, "but you will pay dearly for your treachery--ha! ha! you little dreamhow dearly it will cost you, when the consequences of your wretched plotshall be noised abroad from the aristocratic summit upon which you havehitherto so proudly stood, and from which you will soon be ruthlesslyhurled. "

Wilhelm Mencke, having by this time begun to recover somewhat from theshock of Wallace's unexpected appearance, commenced to bluster:

"Look here, you young upstart, " he cried, growing very red in the face, and assuming a threatening attitude, "all these charges and accusationsmay or may not be true--we won't discuss that point just now; butwhether it is or not, it can be no possible concern of yours. I shouldlike to know what you mean by bursting in upon respectable people inthis rude way. What was Violet to you?--what right or business have youto interfere with whatever she might have chosen to do?"

"The most sacred right in the world, sir, for--she is my wife!"

CHAPTER XVI. 

"I MUST FIND HER--I MUST FOLLOW HER. "

This thrilling and unexpected announcement was electrical in itsresults. 

Mrs. Mencke gave vent to a shriek of horror, and sank, weak andtrembling, upon a chair, while her husband gazed at the young man with alook of blank astonishment and dismay; indeed, for the moment, he seemedalmost paralyzed by the astounding declaration, for if Violet was indeedWallace's wife, he and his wife had been criminally guilty in trying todrive her into a marriage with Lord Cameron, and in view of what theconsequence might have been had they succeeded and Violet had lived, hehad every reason to feel appalled. 

Lady Cameron, also realizing all this, bowed her blanched face upon herhands and sat quivering as if with ague. What a terrible fate had beenspared her son; but at what a fearful cost!

Lord Cameron alone betrayed no surprise, made no comment, though hestill remained as colorless as when Wallace had first revealed hisidentity; while he stood regarding the young man with a sad, pityinglook, for he saw that Wallace did not suspect what they yet had to tellhim--had not even noticed that they spoke of her in the past tense orthat Mrs. Mencke was clad in deep mourning. 

There was an oppressive silence in the room for the space of three orfour minutes then Wilhelm Mencke started forward, his phlegmatic naturefor once all aflame. 

"It is an infernal lie!" he cried, shaking his massive fist beforeWallace's face; "all an infernal lie, I tell you, made up for theoccasion, with the design, perhaps, of claiming her money. But you'llfind, my would-be smart young man, that you have tackled the wrongparties this time. "

Wallace made no verbal reply to this coarse outbreak, but, quietlyslipping one hand within a breast-pocket, he drew forth a folded paper, which he opened and held before the man. 

"Read, " he said, briefly. 

With rapidly fading color, with eyes that grew round and wide, withmingled conviction and dismay, Wilhelm Mencke read the marriagecertificate, which proved that Wallace Hamilton Richardson and VioletDraper Huntington had been legally united, by a well-known clergyman ofCincinnati, about three weeks previous to the sailing of the young girlfor Europe. 

The man knew it was the truth, and this conviction was plainly stampedupon his face as he read; but he was so enraged by the fact, and also bythe secret fear that Wallace might make him some trouble pecuniarily, that he lost control of his temper and reason. 

A coarse, angry oath escaped him, and then he cried out, as he grewcrimson with passion:

"It is a ---- forgery, cleverly executed for the purpose of gaining hisown ends. "

Lord Cameron colored and drew himself up with dignity, while heremarked, with marked displeasure:

"Mr. Mencke, allow me to request you to refrain from profanity in thepresence of my mother. "

"Beg pardon, your lordship, " said Mencke, looking somewhat abashed, "butI am so upset by this blamed trick that I forgot myself entirely. "

"It is no trick, sir--it is the truth, " quietly returned Vane Cameron. 

"What do you mean, Lord Cameron? How can you know anything about it?"cried Mrs. Mencke, forgetting, for the moment, her weakness andagitation in her surprise at his positive declaration. 

"Violet told me--she confided the fact of her marriage to me, " he calmlyreturned. 

"She told you, " Wallace cried, his face lighting, his voice dropping toa tender cadence, as he began to realize how true Violet had been tohim, in spite of her apparent faithlessness. 

"Yes, when I asked her to become my wife, " replied his lordship; then headded: "But sit down, Mr. Richardson, and let us freely discuss thismatter, so that you can clearly understand it. "

Vane rolled forward a comfortable chair for his visitor, a sad deferencein his manner, which betrayed how strongly his sympathies were enlistedfor the young man, who still had no suspicion of the sad news in storefor him. He then seated himself near him and proceeded to relate allthat had occurred in connection with his proposed marriage with Violet. 

He would not tell him at once that the ceremony had never taken place, for Wallace was still greatly excited, and he felt that his news must beall broken to him gradually, or he would be completely unnerved. 

"Evidently you have not learned that Miss Huntington was very ill forseveral weeks in London, " he began. 

"No, " Wallace said, with a start. 

"Yes, she was very sick with brain fever. The attack was caused byreading the notice of your death, and for a month her life was nearlydespaired of. When she began to recover, her physician recommended thatshe be brought to Mentone for a change, and Mrs. Mencke actedimmediately upon his advice. Just previous to her illness I had confidedmy feelings to Mrs. Mencke, and solicited her permission to address hersister. It was freely given, but, of course, I could not avail myself ofit while Miss Huntington was so ill, and it was arranged--without herknowledge, I have since learned--that I was to follow her hither whenshe should have gained somewhat in strength. She had been here about amonth when I received word that I might come. A few days later I wasgranted an interview, during which I confessed my affection and askedher to become my wife. 

"She told me frankly at once that she did not love me well enough tomarry me, and then, with sudden impulse, asked if she might make aconfession--might open her whole heart to me. Of course this request wasreadily granted, and then she told me of her love for you, Mr. Richardson; how it had originated, and how, when"--bending a grave lookupon Mrs. Mencke as he said this--"sorely pressed and alarmed by thefear of being sent away from home and deprived of her liberty, she hadbegged you to advise her what to do, and you told her that the onlysafe-guard that you could throw around her would be to make her yourwife----"

"Yes, " Wallace here interrupted, "Violet had been threatened with beingsent to a convent unless she would promise to cast me off. Such a fateseemed to possess excessive terrors for her, and, being fully convincedthat nothing could change our affection for each other, I suggested thatwe should be privately married, and then, if she was deprived of herliberty, it would be in my power to aid her by claiming her as my wife. "

"Yes, that was what she told me in substance, " said Lord Cameron. "Shestated that you were married, but that you did not propose to claim her, because of the opposition of her friends, until a year or two shouldelapse and you were in a better position to make a home for her; thatyou advised her to travel and see all of the world that was possible, while you pursued your profession. Then came your separation, and shemade no secret of the unhappiness that this caused her, or of herabsorbing affection for you, and she spoke of the intense anxiety thatshe experienced because she received no letters from you after leavinghome. "

Surely Lord Cameron, with his usual noble self-abnegation, was doing allin his power to soothe Wallace's wounded heart and prepare him for thetrial before him. 

"But I wrote twice every week for more than two months, " Wallace hereinterposed, "without receiving a single letter from her. This fact alsowe doubtless owe to the sisterly interposition that has been so vigilantand active regarding her welfare, " he concluded, bitterly. 

"Her grief and despair over your supposed death, " continued the youngearl, "was too deep for expression, and she said that life seemed hardlyworth the living. She told me that she dared not become my wife, feelingthus; that her heart was dead, her dream of life was over, and she wouldnot wrong me by giving me the ashes of her love in return for thedevotion I offered her. "

Lord Cameron paused a moment here, as if the memory of thatnever-to-be-forgotten interview was too much for him; but presently hecontrolled himself, and went on:

"I take upon myself all the blame for what followed, " he said, "for Istill urged her to give herself to me. I knew she was not happyhere--that she was still weak from her illness and weary of travel, andlonged for rest and quiet. I told her I would be content if she wouldbut allow me to throw around her the protection of my name and love, andlet me take her, just as she was, into my heart and home. Her answerwas, 'I dare not, and yet----' That simple qualification made my heartbound, for I accepted it as a sign of yielding. 

"'And yet you want to--you will?' I said, assuming that that was whatshe meant, and as I clasped her hand to seal the compact, I saw that shehad fainted. Later her sister came to me and said that it was allright--that Violet had said she would marry me. Of course I was elated, for I believed that I should win her in time--that eventually she mustyield to my love and devotion, when her wounded heart should have achance to heal, and I was satisfied to take her thus, even though shehad frankly said she could never love me as a wife should love herhusband. Still, as time passed, I began to fear that she regretted herpromise, and during an interview with her, on the evening previous tothe day set for our marriage, I was deeply pained and troubled by hermanner and a certain wretchedness which she could not conceal. But Ireasoned that when the wedding was once over, and we were quietlysettled in our home, she would gradually grow content. "

Wallace had listened thus far with absorbing interest. At times whenLord Cameron spoke of Violet's faithfulness to and love for him, of herdespairing grief over his supposed death, and her reluctance to becomethe wife of another, his face would light up for an instant or growtender with love, as his emotions moved him; but gradually, as thenarrator drew near the end of his tale, he grew nervous and restless, the tense lines of pain settled again about his mouth, his eyes grewdark and moody in expression, while the spasmodic twitching of hisnerves could be plainly seen by every one in the room. 

"'When once the wedding was over, '" he interposed hoarsely, at thispoint of the story; "that was--a month ago--to-day----"

"Yes, that was the date set for the ceremony, " Vane Cameron responded, with a sinking heart, as he bent a pitying look upon the young andterribly stricken husband. 

Bitter as his own grief and disappointment had been when he lost Violet, they now seemed to dwindle into nothing in comparison with Wallace'sgreater suffering and the terrible tidings which he yet had to reveal tohim. His heart sank with a sickening dread; no duty had ever seemed sohard before. 

"I--I read a notice of it in a Cincinnati paper, and I started forEngland at once----" Wallace began excitedly. 

"You started at once!" said Lord Cameron, surprised. "It was announced amonth previous. "

"I know--I know; but I did not get the paper for some time after, " wasthe agitated reply. "At the time Violet left for Europe I was called toNew York to consult with an architect about going into partnership withhim and accepting an important contract. The partnership wasconsummated, the contract accepted, and I have been in New York eversince. This was why I did not get the news earlier--it was a mere chancethat I got it at all. The paper stated that you were to startimmediately for your residence on the Isle of Wight, consequently I wentdirectly there, thus losing much more time. But--oh, I cannot stop forall these details now, " the young man cried, with a ghastly face, theperspiration standing in great beads upon his brow, while he wasterribly excited. "Of course Violet is not your wife, even though tenthousand ceremonies were performed over you. She is mine--mine! Oh, Heaven! am I going mad? Where is she? Tell me--tell me! Why are youstill here? Why did you not go to the Isle of Wight? Why do you notspeak? Why do you keep me in such suspense?"

It was dreadful to look upon him, and no pen could portray the anguishthat was written upon his countenance, that vibrated in his hoarse, quivering tones. 

"We--did not go because--that marriage ceremony never took place, " saidLord Cameron, gravely, but inwardly quaking over what he must tell himnext. 

Wallace sprang to his feet, a thrilling cry of joy bursting from him. 

"Never took place!" he repeated, panting for breath. "Thank Heaven!Violet, my love! you are still my own! Oh, say it again--say thoseblessed words again!"

"Be calm, I beseech you, Mr. Richardson, " said Lord Cameron, pitifully, while convulsive sobs broke from Lady Isabel; "do not allow yourself tobecome so unnerved and you shall learn all. I told you, if you remember, that Violet--nay, do not frown when I speak of her thus, " the nobleyoung man gently interposed, as Wallace's brow grew dark, to hear thatloved named drop so familiarly from his lips, "for had I known thetruth, I would have scorned to wrong either of you by even a confessionof my love. But I told you that she appeared strangely during my lastinterview with her. I offered her a caress--I tell you this, " heinterposed, a crimson flush mounting to his brow, "that you may have allthe comfort possible in knowing how wholly her heart belonged toyou--and she shrank from me in pain, if not with absolute loathing. Later on, during the same evening, my mother saw her for a few minutes, and she made some remarks which seemed very strange at the time, butwhich were readily comprehended later; for the next morning when hersister went to her room, to help her prepare for her bridal, she was notthere. She had gone--left the house and the place, and no one knewwhither. "

A cry of mingled thankfulness and anxiety broke from Wallace at this, and his sorely tried nerves, so long strung to their utmost tension, gave way, and sob after sob burst from his overcharged heart as he sankweakly back in his chair. 

It was a pitiful sight to see that brave, strong young man weep thusover the discovery of the faithfulness of his loved one. 

It was almost more than Lord Cameron could bear and retain hiscomposure, while Lady Cameron wept unrestrainedly. 

Wilhelm Mencke and his wife sat stolidly by viewing this affectingsight, one racked with feelings of mingled anger, guilt, and remorse, the other uneasily considering the chances of trouble for himselfregarding the disposition of Violet's fortune. 

But Wallace soon mastered his emotion; he was not one to remain longinactive when there was anything to be done. 

"My faithful, true-hearted little wife!" he murmured, as he dashed asidehis tears, new hope and courage already glowing on his face, "her loveand instinct were stronger than the force of circumstances. But, "starting again to his feet, "I must find her; I must follow her to theends of the earth, if need be, and when I do find her, as I surelyshall, "--with a stern glance at Mr. And Mrs. Mencke--"nothing save deathshall ever separate us again. "

A chill ran over every listener at these confident words, and an ominoussilence fell over the shrinking group. 

"Have you any idea whither she went? Has any one tried to follow her?"Wallace asked, turning to Lord Cameron, and wondering why he should lookso ghastly; why Lady Cameron's sobs should have burst forth again withrenewed violence. 

"Every possible effort was made to find her; day after day we havesearched for her, " began his lordship, falteringly. 

"And you have learned nothing--gained no clew?" impatiently demanded theanxious young husband. 

"Nothing--until the day before yesterday. "

"Ah! then you have news at last!" cried Wallace, eagerly. "Tellme!--tell me!--what have you learned?"

"Heaven help me! how can I tell you?" exclaimed Lord Cameron, in anagonized tone. Then with a great effort for self-control, he solemnlyadded: "Mr. Richardson, be brave--Violet is dead!--drowned! we found hertwo days ago. She doubtless missed her footing during her flight in thenight, and fell into the sea. "

But these last words fell upon unheeding ears, for when Lord Cameronsaid that she was "dead"--"drowned"--Wallace had cast one horrified, despairing look around upon those white, hopeless faces, and then, without a word or cry, as if smitten by some mighty unseen power, hefell forward on his face and lay like a log upon the floor, at VaneCameron's feet. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

LORD CAMERON AND WALLACE BECOME FIRM FRIENDS. 

"Help me!" Vane Cameron commanded of Mr. Mencke, as he stooped to assistthe fallen man, his noble face full of pity and compassion for him. 

They lifted Wallace and laid him upon a lounge, where Vane, afterloosening his necktie and collar, strove to revive him by sprinkling hisface plentifully with cold water and chafing his hands vigorously. 

But Wallace showed no signs of recovering; he lay motionless, breathless--like a man dead, and at last, becoming alarmed, Lord Cameronsent a servant for the nearest physician. 

Upon his arrival, and after an examination of Wallace's condition, hepronounced it to be an attack of coma produced by hemorrhage in thebrain, caused by excessive excitement and long continued anxiety ofmind. 

"It is a serious attack, " he said, gravely, "but the poor fellow isyoung and has a splendid physique; if he can hold out long enough--untilthe clot is absorbed--he may recover. Is he a relative of milord?"

"No, I never saw him until this evening, " Vane answered, "but I wanteverything possible done to save his life, and I will be responsible. "

The energetic little French doctor needed no better incentive than this, for the wealth and generosity of the young English earl had been commontalk in the town ever since his arrival, and he threw himself into thework of effecting Wallace's recovery with all his heart. Every luxurythat Vane could think of or the doctor suggest, was supplied for hisbenefit and comfort. 

Mr. And Mrs. Mencke took a hasty leave the day following the disclosuresrelated in the foregoing chapter. 

Their treachery and unnatural harshness toward Violet had been unmasked, and Lady Cameron and her son did not take any pains to conceal theircondemnation of such atrocious conduct; consequently Violet's sister andher husband were anxious to escape from Mentone as quickly as possible. 

"You must go home also, mother, " Vane said to Lady Isabel, after theirdeparture, "it will not do for you to remain longer in this enervatingclimate. "

"And what of you, my son?" the fond mother questioned, anxiously. 

"I shall stay with him until he recovers, or at least until he is ableto be moved farther north, " the young man quietly responded. 

"Vane----"

"Do not oppose me, mother, please, " he interrupted, "he is a stranger ina strange country, with not a friend to minister to his need or comfort;and, if I am not mistaken, he has only a scant supply of money. "

"But the nurse and physician can look after him, and the bills can allbe sent to you, if you wish, " urged Lady Cameron. 

"The nurse and physician will both do their duty more faithfully if I amhere to watch them, " Vane answered, inflexibly. "For her sake, " headded, in a low tone, and with white lips, "I shall do my utmost tobring him back to health, while if, in spite of all, he dies, I shalllay him by her side, and then take up the broken thread of my own lifeas best I can. "

Lady Cameron stole to his side and wound her arms about his neck. 

"Vane, " she murmured, while tears streamed over her cheeks, "my nobleboy! it is like you to do this and like the Master who said, 'I was astranger and ye took me in. ' But it breaks my heart to hear you speak inthat hopeless tone. I know--I feel sure that the 'broken thread of yourlife, ' as you express it, will be joined again. I cannot contemplatewith resignation that you, with your noble character and grandpossibilities for doing good, should carry this unhealed wound to yourgrave. But I shall not go home to leave you here, " she added, resolutely; "if you stay to care for this poor, suffering stranger, Ishall stay to look after you. "

"Mother, I cannot permit it, " Vane began, but she interrupted him. 

"I am inexorable, " she said, firmly. "You know that the warm weather isnot depressing to me, as to most people, and anxiety would prey upon memore than the climate, so it will be useless to urge me further. "

Thus it was settled, and those two royal-hearted people remained foranother month in that deserted hotel, and devoted themselves to the careof Wallace Richardson during his critical illness. 

He was very, very ill, but as the physician had said, possessed asplendid constitution, and, after a fierce battle with disease, he beganslowly to recover--at least his physical health. 

But his mind seemed sadly clouded, a condition caused by the pressure ofa clot of blood upon his brain, the doctor said, and time alone wouldshow whether he would ever entirely regain the use of his mentalfaculties; absorption was the only process by which it could beachieved, and this might be slow or rapid, as his general healthimproved. 

At the end of four weeks it was thought that he might safely be moved;indeed, the physician advised it, thinking he would gain strength fasterin a more invigorating atmosphere, and Vane determined to convey himdirectly to the Isle of Wight, whither he had intended taking Violet. 

It seemed almost like the mockery of fate that, instead of taking thewoman whom he had loved and hoped to make his wife to this beautifulsummer home, he should remove hither the man whom she had loved andsecretly married, to nurse him back to health. 

The change proved to be very beneficial, and Wallace began to gainstrength, both physically and mentally, almost immediately. 

Possibly the change in medical treatment had also something to do withthis improvement, for Lord Cameron placed him under the care of one ofthe most skillful physicians of London, who happened to be summering onthe island. 

He did not appear to regard the case so seriously as the French doctorhad done. 

"He will be all right again in a couple of months, " Doctor Harknesssaid. "Give him plain, nourishing diet, plenty of moderate out-doorexercise, and keep his mind free from all exciting subjects. "

Time proved the truth of this prophecy; there was a steady improvementin Wallace from the moment of his arrival upon the island, and twelveweeks from the day of his attack he was pronounced a well man again. 

During his convalescence, as he came, little by little, to realize hisposition, together with the kindness and care which had been thrownaround him during his illness, he tried to manifest his appreciation ofit. 

The first time he referred to the subject was one delightful afternoon, when the two young men were sitting together upon the broad piazza ofLord Cameron's elegant villa, which overlooked the sea. 

Vane had been reading to his companion an amusing story, which both hadseemed to enjoy thoroughly. When he finished it and closed his bookWallace looked up and remarked, gratefully:

"What a good friend you have been to me, Cameron! I hope you do notthink me unappreciative, but I have only just begun to have sense enoughto find it out. "

"I trust we are good friends, " Vane answered, cordially but evading adirect reply to his gratitude, "and that we shall continue to be suchthroughout our lives. "

He had grown to admire the young architect exceedingly during the longweeks that he had so patiently borne his weakness and enforced idleness;while, as his mind gradually became stronger and clearer, he saw that hewas no ordinary person, that he possessed great ability--a strongcharacter, and unswerving principles of rectitude. 

"Thank you, " Wallace answered, gratefully; "I hope so, too. But how am Iever to repay you for your unexampled kindness? It is a problem beyondmy ability to solve. "

"By pledging the friendship I desire, and saying no more about theobligation--if any there is, " Vane replied, with a genial smile, andholding out his hand to his companion. 

Wallace instantly laid his within it, and the two men thus sealed thecompact with a violent but heart-felt clasp. 

Later Wallace spoke of Violet for the first time since his illness, andbegged for more information regarding her sojourn at Mentone and thecircumstances of her flight, though he touched as lightly as possibleupon the revolting story of the discovery of the body upon the beach andits burial; but he would not even hint his suspicion of suicide. 

The subject was a depressing one to both, and to change it Vane said, after a long pause:

"If you feel like it, would you mind coming with me into the library tolook over some plans that came from London to-day? I am about to erect aschool building for the children of my tenants, and also a home for agedpeople and orphans. Perhaps, being an architect, you can make somesuggestions that will be useful to me. "

This was merely a ruse to divert Wallace's mind from the sad andexciting train of thought into which he had fallen; but the young manarose with alacrity at the mention of plans. He dearly loved hisprofession, and was already beginning to be anxious to get into activeservice again. 

He followed his friend to the library, where they found the plans spreadout upon a table, and both soon became deeply interested in discussingthem. 

Wallace was quick to discover that they were defective, and far frombeing practical, in many respects. They were imposing, and looked wellon paper, but he knew that when completed the buildings would be verydisappointing in various ways. 

He modestly pointed out the defects, but in a way that betrayed he knewhis business thoroughly, and Lord Cameron, who would never havediscovered them until the buildings were completed, became disgustedwith the plans, and said at once that he should discard them entirely. 

"Nay, do not be too hasty in your condemnation. I am afraid I have beentoo critical, " Wallace said, regretfully. "With some changes, you mightstill use them; but, if you will allow me, I will make you somedrawings, giving you my ideas regarding these buildings; then, perhaps, you can combine the two sets, and get something more to your mind. "

"Do, " said Lord Cameron, eagerly; "and if they prove to be what I want, you shall have the price Mac Cumber is going to charge me for these--itis no mean one, either. "

"The price!" exclaimed Wallace, flushing. "No, indeed! Do not mentionsuch a thing after all your bounty to me during these many weeks. "

"Ah, but that was on the score of friendship, you know, " lightlyreturned Vane. "That is all settled for. Remember your pledge. This willbe business. "

Wallace made no reply, but the settling of the firm lines about hismouth plainly indicated that he meant to have his own way in thismatter. 

He went immediately to work, all his old enthusiasm awakening the momenthe took his pencil in his fingers. 

He was not yet strong enough mentally to apply himself very closely, neither would Lord Cameron allow him to be imprudent; but by working afew hours every day he made good progress, and at the end of a couple ofweeks laid before Lord Cameron two sets of plans which, for convenience, beauty of design, and elegance of workmanship, far exceeded anythingthat he had even seen. 

"You are a genius, Richardson!" he exclaimed, after he had thoroughlyexamined them, and Wallace had explained everything. "You have utilizedevery square foot of space, and that, too, without infringing in any wayupon the beauty and proportions. I shall use these plans, and Mac Cumberwould do well to come and take lesson of you. "

Wallace was of course very much pleased with this high praise, while hewas no less gratified when, the following week, Lord Cameron proposedthat they should take a trip to his estate, so that he might judge ifthe proposed site for the new buildings were just what it should be, orwhether it could be improved upon by choosing some other. 

The next seven days were spent in Essex County, at the country seat ofthe young Earl of Sutherland, and where Wallace was entertained as anhonored guest, while every day the bond of friendship between the twomen became more firmly cemented. 

The site proved all that could be desired, and Wallace assured hisfriend that the buildings would make a very fine appearance upon it whencompleted. 

After that Vane said that he must see some of the "lions of London, " andhe took him up to his town house, where they spent two weeks veryenjoyably. 

It was now about the first of October, and Wallace, claiming that he wasnow as well as ever, said that he must return to his business in NewYork. 

Dr. Harkness was consulted, and expressed the opinion that he was ableto go, and, accordingly, the day of his departure was set for the fifth. 

"I am very loath to let you go, " Vane said, regretfully, as, on theevening before his departure, they sat together in his "bachelor nest, "as his smoking-room was called. 

"I shall regret the separation as much as you possibly can, " Wallacereplied, gravely, "but I must go back to my work. I have but one objectin life now--my profession. I shall devote all my energies to it, andtry to forget my great loss in making a name for myself. "

"There can be no doubt that you will do that, with your talent, " LordCameron replied; then drawing an envelope from his pocket, he quietlypassed it to him. "Do not open it until you reach New York, " he said, with some embarrassment. 

"Forgive me if I do, " Wallace said, cutting the end and drawing forththe paper within it, for he was confident that he knew the nature of itscontents. 

He found a check on the Bank of England for a hundred pounds. 

"Cameron! I cannot take it, " he said, flushing hotly. 

"I beg you will, " said Vane, earnestly. 

"I should never respect myself again if I did, " Wallace returned, withemotion. "You are more than welcome to the plans, if this check wasintended as a remuneration for them, while I shall never cease to feelthat I owe you a debt which I can never repay for all your kindness tomy loved one, not to mention the vetoed subject of my obligations toyou. "

"But--have you funds sufficient for your needs?" Vane asked, flushing. 

"Yes, for all present needs, " his companion answered. "I was paid fivethousand dollars for the injuries which I received in that accident Itold you of, and I took a letter of credit for a thousand when I cameabroad, so I have abundant means for my expenses to America. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 

Lord Cameron admired Wallace's independence, yet while he saw he wouldhurt him deeply by insisting upon his acceptance of the check, he couldnot feel satisfied to accept as a gift the valuable plans which he hadexecuted for him. 

He therefore said no more about the money, but, before he slept, hewrote several letters to prominent parties in New York, whom he knew, inwhich he spoke with highest praise of Wallace's talents as an architect, and solicited their influence and patronage for him in the future. 

"Perhaps these may prove to be of more advantage to you than thecontents of that other envelope which you rejected, " he remarked, with asmile, as he slipped a half dozen letters of introduction into his handsjust before they retired. 

"You are very thoughtful, Cameron, " Wallace said, appreciatively; "and Iwill thankfully make use of these. "

The fifth of October, the date of Wallace's departure, dawned a bright, lovely morning. 

Lord Cameron had engaged to accompany him to Liverpool, determined todelay their parting to the last moment, and dreading, more than he couldexpress, the return to his estate in Essex County, when he would beginto realize something of the loneliness of his own situation. Wallace'sillness, and the care which he had been forced to give him, he nowrealized had been a great blessing to him, for it had prevented, in ameasure, his brooding over his own troubles. 

Vane had made thoughtful provision for his friend's voyage, supplyinghim with everything he could think of to make his passage comfortableand pleasant, and the two men, after taking an affectionate leave ofLady Isabel, who also had become very fond of Wallace, drove away tocatch the express for Liverpool. 

As they were passing through one of the busy thoroughfares of the city, their progress was hindered for a few moments by a blockade of vehicles. 

While waiting for an opportunity to advance, another carriage, going inthe opposite direction, slowly passed them--for the stream of teams wasnot blocked on the other side of the street--and when it was directlyopposite them the face of a woman looked forth from the window for aninstant, then the coach passed on, and she was lost to view. 

An agonized cry had burst from Wallace at that moment, and that, withhis fixed stare at the passing carriage, caused Lord Cameron also toglance that way; but he only caught a fleeting glimpse of the outline ofa delicate face framed in golden hair, then it vanished beyond hissight. 

"Violet!" gasped Wallace, with ashen lips, and trembling violently fromhead to foot. "Did you see her? Oh, let me out, quick! quick! I mustfind her!"

He was terribly agitated and unnerved, almost frantic, in fact, and LordCameron greatly feared another attack such as had previously prostratedhim. 

He reached out his hand, and pushed him firmly yet kindly back upon hisseat. 

"Be quiet, Richardson!" he said, with gentle authoritativeness. "Itcould not have been Violet. It was but a delusion, a fanciedresemblance, or a trick of the imagination. Violet is dead. Did I notsee her with my own eyes? Did I not care for her, and lay her to restbeneath the shade of that grand old beech?--while you yourself have seenher grave. "

"Oh, but it--the face--was so like--so like!" murmured Wallace, stillfearfully overcome. 

"My friend, " Vane continued, while he tried to control his own startlednerves, "you must not allow yourself to be so unnerved by a fancied, oreven a real resemblance to the loved one whom you have lost. It is notunlikely you may meet it again some time, but you must bear it bravely. This great sorrow has been sent upon you, and you must meet it withcourage and resignation, as one who believes in God should meet thetrials which He sends upon you. There is work in the world for you todo, or your life would not have been spared; take it up, carry it on toits fulfillment, and do not ruin your health, your brain, your greattalent, by allowing the ghost of your lost happiness to haunt and weakenyou thus. "

The young man spoke gravely and very earnestly, but his own face wasalmost as pallid as Wallace's and it was easy to see that he had beendeeply moved by what had occurred. It might even be that he was strivingto fortify his own sore heart and wounded spirit with the admonitionsthat he was giving his friend. 

Wallace wiped the perspiration from his face, and strove manfully torecover his self-possession; but it was no easy thing to do, and it waslong before he regained his natural color, or ceased to tremble visibly. 

"I know what you say must be true, " he returned, when he could speak, "and my common sense tells me that I was deceived--that the face couldnot have been Violet's; and yet--if--I could follow and find the womanwho looks so much like her--who seemed to be her exact counterpart, Ibelieved it would comfort me--would help to ease this ceaseless aching, this never-ending longing of my heart. "

"It would not, " said Lord Cameron, positively; "it would but unsettleyou the more; and now that I come to think of it the more, thatface--though I caught but the merest glimpse of its outline--was thinnerand older than Violet's. "

He immediately changed the subject, and strove to divert the mind of hisfriend from the painful incident, but while he endeavored to talk andappear like himself, he was secretly greatly shaken by what hadoccurred. 

Most of the journey to Liverpool was spent in discussing Lord Cameron'splans regarding the school for the children of his tenants and the homefor aged people and orphans, and the young earl exacted a promise fromWallace that, when the buildings were completed and ready for occupancy, he would come again to England to be present at their dedication, andpronounce his verdict upon them. 

"You will not need to be absent from your business more than three weeksor a month, " he said, "and I am sure you will have earned the right tothat much of a vacation by that time. However, I shall see you againbefore then, since I do not intend to entirely desert the land of mybirth, even though my home must be in England, and every year I shallmake a short trip to America. I am not going to lose sight of my friendeither; remember, Richardson, we are pledged to each other for life. "

The hand which he extended with this remark was warmly grasped, and bothyoung men felt that their souls were "knit unto each other, " in a bondas strong and tender as that which had united David and Jonathan of old. 

The steamer was to sail at sundown, and the little time that intervened, after their arrival in Liverpool, the two friends spent in looking overthe mammoth vessel. 

When at last the signal for departure sounded, they parted with alingering hand-clasp and a simple "God bless you;" but Lord Cameron, ashe journeyed back alone to his princely home, felt as if half the lighthad suddenly gone out of his life. 

Wallace had a quick and comfortable passage, and, having cabled the timeof his departure, and the name of the steamer, found his partnerawaiting him at the pier upon his arrival in New York. 

He greeted him with great warmth, which had in it an undertone ofgenuine sympathy for his troubles, and then informed him that he hadjust secured a contract for a sixty-thousand-dollar building; remarking, too, that he hoped Wallace felt in the spirit for work, as they wouldhave their hands full during the coming year. 

"Work will be the mainspring of my life after this, " Wallace brieflyreturned, but he appeared gratified with the encouraging report ofbusiness which his partner had given him. 

He threw himself heart and soul into his profession from that day. Heworked at his office from morning until evening, when not out uponduties of inspection, and for hours in his own room at night; worked tokeep his mind from dwelling upon his great sorrow, and until he was soweary in body that sleep came to him, unbidden, as soon as his headtouched his pillow. 

He took the earliest opportunity possible to present his letters ofintroduction to the parties whom Lord Cameron had addressed in hisbehalf. 

These recommendations proved to be worth a great deal to him, for to bethe valued friend of an English earl and a man of genius as well, werefacts calculated to give him prestige with even the most conservative, and business flowed in upon the firm of Harlow & Richardson in such acontinuous stream that they bade fair to have more work than they couldhandle. 

At the close of the first year, after Wallace's return, they found theyhad cleared twenty thousand dollars, while they had contracts ahead foranother twelve months, besides applications that were constantly comingin. 

Wallace had never been in better health than during this time. He lovedhis work and forgot himself in it, and was fast winning a name and famethat promised to place him, not far in the future, at the head of hisprofession; while already rumors of his success had somehow been setafloat in his old home in Cincinnati, and people there were beginning totalk of that "promising young Richardson" whom they had once known onlyas an humble carpenter. 

He had acquired also during this year both strength of character anddignity of bearing, and was a grand looking young man. 

He went, now and then, into society, for Mr. Harlow, who was some yearshis senior, had a delightful home and a lovely wife, and they insistedupon his visiting them occasionally. In this way he met many agreeablepeople, who, in their turn, solicited his presence in their homes. 

But society had comparatively few attractions for him, even thoughseveral ambitious mothers smiled encouragingly upon the rising youngarchitect, and many fair, bright-eyed damsels shot alluring glances athim. 

But he had no heart to offer any one, and met all these advances withquiet but dignified courtesy. 

He heard regularly from Lord Cameron, who was throwing all his energiestoward pushing his benevolent schemes to completion, and the buildingswhich Wallace had planned would, he wrote, be finished and ready foroccupancy by another spring. 

He had intended to visit America before this, his last letter said, butthe press of business and the delicate state of his mother's health hadthus far prevented; he hoped, however, before many weeks should pass totread again the familiar streets of New York. 

He also stated that he had met Mr. And Mrs. Mencke once during the pastyear. It was during the London season, and he and his mother had runacross them at a brilliant reception--a circumstance that surprised himsomewhat, as he did not suppose they would go into society so soon afterthe death of their sister. 

The meeting had occurred in this way. 

After making an extended tour of the Alps, Mr. And Mrs. Mencke hadreturned to London, to meet Mrs. Hawley, who was to spend a few weeksthere and then go on to Milan, to remain for the winter with NellieBailey, who had concluded to devote another year to her beloved musicbefore returning to America. 

Mrs. Hawley was a woman who dearly loved society, and always had a longlist of engagements--one who had it in her power to be so charming couldnot fail to be a welcome guest wherever she went--consequently, it wasperfectly natural that she should wish her friend to participate in herenjoyment. 

Mrs. Mencke at first faintly demurred upon the ground of being inmourning, but Mrs. Hawley, who did not believe in mourning anyway, easily overruled her scruples. 

"What is the harm?" she questioned. "You cannot do Violet any good bysecluding yourself, and no one here knows you well enough to gossipabout you. It would be different, perhaps, if you were at home, wherepeople have known you all your life. "

So Mrs. Mencke, who liked gay life as well as any one, smothered herconscience, and, never doing things by halves, went everywhere. 

It was at a reception given by the American Consul that she met LordCameron and his mother, Lady Isabel having been an intimate friend ofthe gentleman's family when her home was in New York. 

Mrs. Mencke, ignoring entirely the barriers that had arisen between themat Mentone, appeared delighted to meet her "dear friends, " but thegreetings upon their part were decidedly cool, while Lady Cameron lookedthe reproaches she could not utter at Mrs. Mencke's gay manner andattire, and uttered a sigh of regret that the gentle girl, whom she hadbegun to love as a daughter, should so soon have been forgotten by heronly relative. 

"Are you in London for any length of time, Lady Cameron?" Mrs. Menckeinquired, secretly hoping that she might get an invitation to visit herat her town-house. 

"Only for a week or two longer, as my son's affairs call him to hisestate in Essex, " was the somewhat formal reply. 

"Indeed! and have you been in town long?"

"About a month. "

"Really? I wonder that we have not met before, then, " Mrs. Menckeremarked, with some surprise. 

"It is not strange, " said Lady Cameron, with a sigh, "for my son and Iare still too sad to care to go much into company, and we should nothave been here this evening but for a special request of your consul, who is an old and valued friend. "

Mrs. Mencke colored vividly at this reply, and began to make excuses forher own presence there; but Lady Cameron, with a disapproving glanceover her elegant and showy costume, only bowed with reserved courtesy inreply, and then, as Lord Cameron accosted an acquaintance who wasapproached, she excused herself and turned to greet her friend, leavingMrs. Mencke boiling with rage over their distant reception, and bitterlydisappointed at not having secured an invitation even to call upon them. 

She felt humiliated as well as angry, and too wrought up to longer enjoythe gayeties of the evening, she retired at an early hour from thereception. 

The unhappy woman had other causes, aside from the failure of hermatrimonial schemes and the contempt of the Camerons, for anxiety andunhappiness. 

Her husband, during the last few months, while visiting various resorts, had developed an alarming taste for gambling, and had, to her knowledge, lost large sums of money; while he seemed perfectly reckless in hisexpenditure, and she felt sure, though she did not yet dream the worst, that their own as well as Violet's fortune was fast melting away. 

Deep and frequent potations at the cup, too, were showing their effectupon him; he was growing more gross and coarse, and his temper sufferedin proportion with the continuous nervous excitement under which he waslaboring. 

All this must have an end sooner or later, she knew, but she was notprepared to have it come so soon as it did. 

Four weeks after her meeting with the Camerons the man returned to her, late one night, from a terrible orgie. His face was bloated and crimsonfrom drink; his eyes wild and blood-shot, his hair disheveled, and hisclothing soiled and disordered. 

Coming rudely into his wife's presence, he cried out with a shockingoath:

"It's all gone!--hic--every--dollar we had in the world, and, Belle, we're--hic--beggars!"

"What do you mean, Will?" his wife demanded, with a sinking heart andwhite face. 

"Are you deaf?" he bawled, with another oath. "We're--hic--beggars, Itell--hic--you. I've just--hic--rattled away the hic--last dollar. "

There was a scene then, as might be expected, for Mrs. Mencke was not awoman to tamely submit to such wrong and abuse, and the thought that thewhole of her own, as well as Violet's fortune, had been squandered atthe gaming-table and the race-track was more than she could bear. Shecould talk as few women can talk, and when she had ceased herdenunciations, Wilhelm Mencke was completely sobered, and sat pale andsullen and cowed before her. 

She did not realize how exceedingly bitter and stinging herdenunciations were until the next morning, when, upon rising, she foundthe jewel-box, in which she kept the jewelry which she commonly wore(her diamonds and more valuable gems being locked in a trunk, fortunately) together with all that Violet had possessed, was rifled ofits contents and her husband gone, together with his traveling-bag and achange of clothes. 

The desertion of her husband was the most humiliating of all hertroubles; but her proud spirit would not yield to even this blow. Shecalmly stated that her husband had been suddenly called home and thatshe was to follow him by the next steamer. 

Fortunately she had considerable money with her, and she settled everybill with a grave front, and finally took her departure from the hotelwith as much pomp and state as she had maintained throughout her sojournthere. 

A week from the day of her husband's flight she was crossing theAtlantic alone, and immediately upon reaching New York proceeded toCincinnati in the hope of saving something by the sale of her house andfurniture. The house had already been disposed of, though she learnedthat not much had been realized on it, for it had been heavily mortgagedand the sale was a forced one. 

This fact told her that her husband was in America, although no one hadseen him, for the sale had been made through an agent, and she tried tofeel thankful that he had had the grace to leave her the furniture. Thisshe turned into money, but it did not bring her a third of its realvalue, for she was forced to sacrifice it at auction. 

Where now was the proud woman's boasted wealth and position? Where nowher vaunted superiority over the "low-born carpenter" because of hispoverty?

Gone! for she had not--aside from some valuable jewels and clothing--athousand dollars in the world, while she had the exceeding mortificationof realizing the stern fact that she would be obliged to seek someemployment in order to live honestly. 

It was the bitterest drop in her already bitter cup, and too proud toremain in the city where she had hitherto been a leader in society, shesuddenly disappeared from the place and no one knew whither she hadgone. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE. 

It was on the fourteenth of May, nearly a year and a half previous tothe sudden downfall and disappearance of Wilhelm Mencke and his wife, that a curious incident occurred which has an important bearing upon ourstory. 

At the foot of one of the mountains which skirt the Gulf of Genoa just afew miles east of the line which separate France and Italy, there stoodat that time the dwelling of a well-to-do Italian peasant. 

That the man was above the majority of his class, his neat homestead, his thrifty fields and vineyards, and the general air of comfort whichpervaded his dwelling plainly betokened. 

But he was a stern, harsh man, bestowing little affection upon hisfamily, yet exacting unquestioning obedience and diligent toil fromevery member, to help him maintain the thrift for which he was noted andto fill his pockets with money. 

On a dark and starless night, long after Tasso Simone and most of hisfamily were wrapped in slumber, the door of his dwelling was softlyopened, whereupon a slight, girlish figure stole forth and spednoiselessly across the vineyard of olive trees, toward the highway whichskirted the gulf. 

Upon reaching the road, the flying fugitive moderated her pace, butwalked on with a firm, elastic step toward Mentone, which was thenearest town over the French line. 

For an hour she walked steadily on, appearing to be perfectly familiarwith the way, even in that intense darkness, until finally she pausedbefore a low, rude building, or shed, which had been constructed out ofrough boards to protect fishermen from the hot rays of the sun, whilecleaning their fish for market. 

She sat down to rest just outside upon a rude bench, which she seemed toknow was there, and opening a parcel which she carried in her hands, shebegan to eat of its contents. 

Suddenly she paused and listened, for a slight movement behind her, within the shed, had attracted her attention. 

A sigh that was almost a moan had greeted her ears. 

She did not move for several moments, but waited for the sound to berepeated. 

Soon she heard it again; a long-drawn, sobbing sigh like some one deeplygrieved or in distress. 

The girl arose, and, without a trace of fear in her manner, made her waywithin the shed, showing by her quick, decisive movements that she wasas familiar with the ground as with her own home. 

Here she struck a match and lighted a piece of candle, which she tookfrom her pocket, when she saw, with evident amazement, a beautiful girllying asleep upon a shawl which had been spread over a pile of seaweedin one corner of the place. 

The light also revealed the fugitive, whom we have followed thus far, tobe a slight, graceful form, straight as an arrow, and having a wiryenergy and resolution in her every movement which betrayed unusualself-reliance in one so young. 

She was very light in complexion, having yellow hair, black eyes, andbright, rosy cheeks, a somewhat unusual combination in one who was anative of that Southern clime. 

She was dressed in the costume of the country, and with a neatness andtrimness that made her seem almost dainty in the homely dress, while onher head she wore a large, coarse straw hat, over which a brighthandkerchief had been thrown, and was tied under her pretty, roundedchin. 

She softly approached and leaned over the sleeper, astonishment depictedupon every feature of her young face; and well she might look surprised, for the lovely girl who lay upon that wretched bed of sea-weed wasrichly and tastefully clad, and bespoke the petted child of luxury andfortune. 

She knelt beside her, and, laying her hand lightly upon her shoulder, said, in low, musical Italian:

"Wake, signorina. "

The touch aroused the fair sleeper, and she started up affrighted; but, upon seeing the kindly face of a young girl about her own age bendingabove her, her expression of terror changed to one equally surprisedwith that of her companion. 

"Why is the signorina sleeping here in this miserable place?" thepeasant girl asked. 

But her companion could not understand or speak Italian, and shook herhead, intimating that she did not know what she had said. 

To her surprise the girl then addressed her in broken French, repeatingher question, and then the fair stranger, appearing to think it best toconfide in her, answered, though with some embarrassment:

"I am in great trouble, and I am running away from it. I have walked along distance, but became so weak and faint I could go no farther, andstumbled in here to rest, and must have fallen asleep from weariness. "

A look of pity and sympathy swept over the peasant girl's face. 

"Mademoiselle is hungry, perhaps?" she remarked. 

"Yes; I had no supper. I could not eat and am faint. I have been ill andam far from strong. "

The girl stuck her candle upon a rock and then, going outside the shed, brought in her own lunch which she had left lying upon the bench. Itconsisted of some coarse bread and cheese, some cakes fried in oliveoil, with a few dried figs, and all wrapped in a clean linen cloth. 

"Eat, mademoiselle, " she said, as she placed it upon her companion'slap. 

The beautiful stranger seized a fig and quickly disposed of it withevident relish; then she suddenly paused and asked:

"But do you not need this yourself? I must not rob you. "

The girl shrugged her shoulders, and shook her head. 

"Eat, signorina, eat, " she said, mixing her French and Italian; and theother, without waiting to be urged further, and apparently ravenouslyhungry, quickly disposed of everything save the cheese. 

"You are very good, " she said, gratefully, when the last fig was eaten. "I thank you very much. " Then with sudden curiosity, she inquired: "Buthow do you also happen to be abroad alone at this hour of the night?"

Again the peasant girl shrugged her shoulders, and a dark look ofpassion swept over her face. 

"I, too, am running away, " she said. "I do not like my home; I have astep-father; he is cruel, harsh, and wants to marry me to a man I do notlove. "

"How strange, " murmured her companion, a look of wonder coming into herbeautiful eyes, while an expression of sympathy crept over her lovelyface. 

"My father owes him for a fine pair of mules, just bought, " the girlresumed, a look of scorn gleaming in here eyes, "and Beppo will call thedebt square if I marry him. I will not be exchanged for brutes--I willnot be sold like a slave, and to one I hate and loathe, and I fly fromhim, " she concluded, indignantly, the rich blood mounting to herforehead. 

"Where are you going?" questioned the other, eagerly. 

"To Monaco, to find service in some family, as maid or nurse, until Ican earn money to go to some school to learn to study, " was the earnestreply. 

"You are not an Italian?" the fair stranger said, inquiringly. 

The girl shook her head, a sneer curling her red lips. 

Evidently to be an Italian was not very desirable in her estimation. 

"My mother is Swiss, my own father was French, " she briefly answered. 

"Ah! that is how you happen to be so light and to speak the Frenchlanguage. Will you tell me your name?"

"You will not betray me? You will not set them on my track, if I tellyou?" said the peasant girl, apparently longing to confide in thebeautiful maiden, but secretly questioning the wisdom of so doing. 

"Surely not. Am I not flying from trouble also? Besides, I am going toanother country, " was the reassuring reply. 

"I am Lisette Vermilet, " the girl then said. "I am eighteen years old. Ihave worked from sunrise till sunset every day for seven long years, inthe field, in the vineyard, or the dairy, ever since my poor, foolishmother married her tyrant husband. I do it no more. I take care ofmyself and be no man's slave, and I marry whom I will, when the rightone and the right time come. But first, " she continued, eagerly, herface lightning with intense longing, "I study; I learn about the worldand other things, like some lovely French girls I saw at Mentone lastyear, who told me all about the flowers, the birds, the earth, and thesea. Oh! I weep when I think of how much there is to know, and I havelost it all--all!" and her voice grew tremulous with repressed feelingas she concluded. 

"Poor child! you surely ought to have an education if you want it somuch, " said her sympathetic listener, in a kindly tone, while sheregarded the girl's eager face almost affectionately. "But are you notafraid that your cruel step-father will go after you and bring youback?"

"Tasso Simone would beat me black and blue if he should catch me, " shesaid, with a shiver, as if she recalled some experience of the kind. "Ah! if I had but a disguise he would not know me--I get away better. "

A bright idea seemed suddenly to strike her companion, for her facelighted eagerly. 

"Let us exchange clothing, " she exclaimed, "then no one will recognizeeither of us. "

"Ah! but the signorina has such beautiful clothes, while mine are sopoor, " sighed Lisette, in a deprecatory tone, but with a wistful glanceover the daintily made traveling suit, at the tasteful hat, andexpensive boots which her companion wore. 

"Never mind; yours are neat and whole, and no one would ever think oflooking for me in them, while you will be much more likely to succeed ineluding your cruel father in mine, " the young stranger persisted. 

"The signorina is very kind, " Lisette said, gratefully, as, with animpulsive movement, she bent forward and kissed the fair white hand thatlay within her reach, while it seemed to her simple heart that sheshould feel like a princess in that lovely dark-grey cloth dress, withits daintily stitched bands of blue silk. 

Alas! she did not dream that it was to become her shroud. 

Yes, as has doubtless been surmised, it was Violet whom Lisette Vermilethad found lying asleep upon the pile of sea-weed in the fisherman'sshed. 

After refusing to admit her sister to her room on the night previous tothe day appointed for her wedding, she had continued her occupation ofwriting for some time. When she was through she read over what she hadwritten, and then deliberately tore it into atoms. 

"No, I will not tell them anything, " she muttered, with a frown; "I willjust go and leave no trace behind me. It may seem unkind to LordCameron, but some time I will explain it all. "

She then arose and dressed herself in her traveling suit, tied adark-blue vail about her face, and brought a thick shawl from hercloset. She then began to lay out a change of clothing and her toiletarticles, but suddenly stopped in the midst of her work. 

"No, I will not burden myself with anything, " she murmured, thoughtfully. "I am not strong, and I need all the strength I have toget myself away; besides, I can easily buy what I need in any town. "

She hastily drew on her gloves, without observing that the rings, whichshe usually wore and which she prized very highly, were still lying uponher cushion where she had left them before taking her bath. She did noteven think to take her watch, which she sadly missed and regrettedafterward; her only thought was to get away as quickly as possible fromall danger of violating her conscience and of wronging a noble andgenerous man. 

She then put out her light and sat alone in the darkness, waiting forthe house to become quiet so that she could steal forth unobserved. 

Two hours passed, all in the house seemed to be at rest, and shenoiselessly crept out of a window upon the piazza, made her way swiftlyaround the house to where a flight of stairs led to the ground, and thensped away in the darkness, with no definite idea whither she was going. 

She took the highway leading away from Mentone, because she dreaded lestsome one should meet and accost her in the town. She had a dim idea thatif she could get to San Remo, which was about twelve miles east ofMentone, she could take a train going north without being discovered, and accordingly she bent her footsteps in this direction. 

Her way led along the cliffs overhanging the sea, before mentioned, andhow she, to whom the way was entirely strange, should have escaped thefate which every one afterward supposed to have been hers was wondered. But escape it she did, and after safely passing this perilous point shedescended the hill, and then the road closely followed the beach forsome distance. 

Here she came upon the rude hut, or shelter, which has been described, and being foot-sore and weary with her long walk, she spread her shawlupon a mass of sea-weed which she found in one corner, and throwingherself upon it soon fell into a profound slumber, from which she wasawakened by the light touch of Lisette Vermilet. 

With this brief explanation of Violet's flight, we will return to thetwo girls who were discussing a change of apparel. 

Violet was much strengthened by the food which she had eaten and greatlyrefreshed by her nap, while she was encouraged by the presence of theyoung girl, who was also, strangely enough, flying from a fate similarto her own. 

She overcame the scruples of Lisette, and insisting upon the plan shehad proposed, the two girls, under cover of that rude shed, made theexchange, Violet declaring that every article be transferred in order tomake the disguise more complete. She only reserved her shawl, as, intraveling, she knew she would need it. 

"Now, " she said, when their task was completed, "can you tell me thebest way to get north. I am going to England, and from there to America, and I want to get away from this region as soon as possible. "

"Mademoiselle would do well to come with me to Mentone and take a trainfrom there, " Lisette replied. 

"Oh, I could not do that, " Violet cried. "I have just come from Mentone, and would not go back there for anything. "

It will be observed that she had refrained from saying much aboutherself thus far, for she did not wish even this simple girl to know thecircumstances which had caused her flight. 

Lisette thought a minute, then she told her to go on to a village abouta mile distant, where, in a couple of hours, a train would make a briefstop at a crossing. 

This, she said, would bear her back in the same direction she had come, but she could go on to Nice, where she could take an express direct forParis. 

Violet, much as she dreaded passing through Mentone again, saw that thiswould be the wisest course to pursue, and decided that she would followthe girl's advice. 

"You will not betray that you have met me, if any one should questionyou, and you will keep out of sight of people in Mentone as much aspossible, " Violet pleaded. 

"Surely I will not betray you, signorina, and I will not show myself bydaylight in Mentone, " Lisette said, earnestly, "and you will get awaywithout any trouble, for a peasant girl can go about alone in thiscountry where an English lady could not. Take courage, signorina;nothing will harm you, and may the Holy Virgin go with you. "

"I feel anxious about your passing through Mentone, " Violet said. "Ifyou should be seen there tomorrow you would surely be stopped, for myclothing would instantly be recognized by those who will search for me;they would compel you to tell where and how you met me, and then theywould telegraph ahead and have me stopped. "

"Do not fear, signorina, " Lisette responded. "I shall pass throughMentone before light, for I am a rapid walker. I go straight to Monaco, and seek service in some French family going to Paris. "

Violet looked relieved at this. 

"Have you money?" she asked. 

"I have forty francs, signorina. I have saved for eighteen months everysou I could get. "

Eighteen months saving eight dollars!

Violet regarded the girl with sorrowful astonishment. 

"That is very little; let me give you some more, " she cried, and eagerlyopening her well-filled purse, counted out some gold-pieces amounting tofifty francs more. 

"No, signorina, not a sou, " Lisette returned, firmly, as she waved backViolet's extended hand. "My heart is heavy now with all you have donefor me--giving me these beautiful clothes in exchange for a poorpeasant's dress. I cannot take your money. "

"Please, " persisted Violet. "I have plenty, and can easily spare youthis. "

But the girl made a proud gesture of dissent. 

"The signorina must go; and I must get on also, " she said, gravely. "Keep to the straight road until you come to the track in the village. You can get no ticket, but the guard will charge you a couple of francsfor your fare. Adieu, signorina. "

She was about turning away, when Violet stopped her. 

"Lisette, " she said, holding out her hand, "good-by. You have been verykind to me, and I shall always remember you kindly. I hope we shall meetagain some time. "

Tears were in Lisette's eyes as she responded in a similar strain, andthen led Violet from the shed. 

"That way, go; adieu!" she said, pointing eastward; then raising thehand she held, she pressed her lips impulsively to it and dropped it. 

With a softly breathed farewell in response, Violet turned and walkedquickly away, while Lisette went back into the shed, put out her candleand threw the end away, after which she turned in the opposite directionand began to climb the steep hills or cliffs, along which the highwayled toward Mentone. 

Violet went on her way in the darkness, her heart beating rapidly withfear lest she should encounter some rude fisherman or peasant who wouldstop and question her. 

She was foot-sore and weary long before she came in sight of thevillage, for a mile was a long distance to her unaccustomed muscles, while Lisette's heavy shoes hurt her tender feet sorely. 

But, guided by the lights along the railroad track, she found her way tothe crossing the girl had told, her about, and, sinking down upon a pileof sleepers by the road-bed, she uttered a sigh of relief that she hadreached the end of her long walk. 

She did not have a great while to wait, for presently the cars camethundering along, and soon she was on the train for Nice, whence shetook an express for Paris. Now she felt safe from pursuit, as she wasbeing whirled northward at the rate of forty miles an hour. 

CHAPTER XX. 

VIOLET RETURNS TO AMERICA. 

Meanwhile the kind-hearted peasant girl, Lisette, feeling as if she hadsuddenly been changed into another being by some good fairy--and shecertainly looked like a different person, clad as she was like alady--was walking at a swinging pace toward Mentone, and--her doom. 

She intended to walk until the day began to dawn, and then beg a ride toMonaco in one of the market-carts which made daily trips from thecountry to that city. 

It was still very dark, and the road, which lay up a steep hill, wasvery narrow, and ran dangerously near the cliffs which overhung the sea. 

The girl had worked very hard the previous day, while she had slept nonethat night, for she had been too much excited, over the thought ofleaving her home, to rest, and she now began to experience a feeling ofweariness and languor stealing over her. It was the reaction coming on, while added to that was a feeling of dread and loneliness over theuncertainty of the future. 

More than this, she found the boots, which Violet had insisted must gowith the rest of her costume, were too tight to be comfortable, and thisgreatly impeded her progress. 

She climbed to the top of the cliffs and there sat down by the road-sideupon a huge bowlder, where she had rested many a time before, to recoverherself a little before going on. 

The stone was an irregular one, with a projection which formed a supportfor her back, and leaning against this, she was overcome by wearinessbefore she knew it and fell into a sound sleep. 

It did not seem as if ten minutes had elapsed since she sat down, thoughin reality it was more than half an hour when the sound of a gallopinghorse aroused her. 

She started to her feet, a cry of terror and dismay breaking from her. It was still so dark that she could see nothing any distance away, butthe sound of that swiftly advancing horse made her heart beat withfearful throbs. 

Was it some pursuer coming in search of her?

Had her flight been discovered at home, and was her tyrannicalstep-father coming to force her back into wearisome servitude? or, worseyet, to sell her to another man equally brutal and unkind?

She started to flee, but, not being able to clearly distinguish theroad, while she was sadly bewildered by having been so suddenly arousedfrom her sleep, she turned in the wrong direction and made straight forthe edge of the cliff. 

It was very strange--as familiar as she was with every inch of theground between her home and Mentone--that she could have become soconfused and lost as to her location, and it was only when she caughtthe ominous sound of the washing of the waves against the rocks belowthat she became conscious of her danger. 

But she was rushing at such headlong speed she could not save herself; alow shuddering cry of terror burst from her lips as she suddenly losther balance; there was a short interval of silence, followed by a heavysplash in the waters below, then the waves closed over the unfortunategirl, and the ocean held the secret of her fate, as well as of Violet'smysterious disappearance. 

The cliff was very high at that point, and projected considerably overthe sea, which was very deep just there. 

The girl sank at once to the bottom, and her clothing probably becomingentangled among the rocks, her body was held there for some weeks, andonly disturbed and washed far below to the point where the fishermen hadfound it after a storm of considerable violence. 

It was, of course, unrecognizable, but every article which she woretended to prove that she was Vane Cameron's lost bride-elect. As such heclaimed her, without a doubt as to her identity, and, as we alreadyknow, laid her to rest beneath the shadow of the venerable beech in onecorner of the church-yard at Mentone. 

Lisette's parents never once suspected what her fate had been. 

Upon discovering that she had fled, her iron-hearted master had startedin search of her, vowing that she should pay dearly for daring to runaway from him, and the future that he had planned for her. 

He learned that a peasant girl, answering to her description, hadboarded the westward-bound train at the village, in the early morning, and had left it again at Nice. 

He hastened hither at once, and was told that such a girl had been seenin the waiting-room of the station; but further than that he could getno trace of her, and was finally obliged to return to his home, where, upon the other members of his family, he vented his disappointment andanger over the loss of such valuable help. 

The mother, who was far superior to her husband in every way, grievedlong and bitterly over the loss of her first-born, but it was manymonths before she learned the truth regarding her untimely end. 

 * * * * * *

Violet's journey to Paris was accomplished with very little wearinessand nothing of incident. Her first business upon reaching the Frenchmetropolis was to go to a lady's furnishing house, where she purchased asimple but comfortable outfit, after which she proceeded to arespectable _pension_, which she had heard highly recommended by someAmericans whom she had met in London. 

It was fortunate that she had a liberal supply of money in herpossession. She had never been stinted, for it was supposed that she wasthe heir to a large fortune, and a certain income was paid to herquarterly. Since she had been joined by her sister and her husband shehad not had occasion to use much money, as Mr. Mencke had settled allher bills, and she had several hundred dollars in her possession at thetime of her flight. 

This fact, together with the discovery that she could find a very safeand pleasant home for a time in the _pension_, where she was stopping, somewhat changed her original plan of returning directly to America, andshe resolved to remain in Paris a while for the purpose of perfectingherself more fully in French, and also to take a few finishing lessonsin music, for she had determined to make use of these branches insupporting herself in the future. 

She threw her whole heart into her work, and few people would haverecognized in this grave, studious girl, the bright, laughing, care-freeViolet who had been such a favorite among her friends in Cincinnati theyear previous. 

She put herself under the best of teachers, and made the most of hertime and opportunities; thus nearly four months slipped by, and then sheresolved to go home to America. 

It was the last of September when she left Paris for London, where sheremained several days to make preparations for her voyage, beforeproceeding to Glasgow to take the steamer, she having decided to sailfrom there, because she could obtain a comfortable passage at cheaperrates on the Anchor Line, and it was now becoming necessary for her tohusband her funds a little. 

It was the fifth of October when she left London for Glasgow, and it washer face that Wallace had seen looking from that carriage window as hewas detained for a few minutes by a blockade in the street. 

Violet, however, was wholly unconscious of her proximity to herlover--or her husband, as we now know him to be. She was deeply absorbedin her own thoughts, and was gazing at nothing in particular; therefore, the carriage that she was in had passed Lord Cameron's without herhaving a suspicion that she had attracted the attention of any one. 

She was driven on to the Midland Grand station, where she took a trainfor Glasgow, and that evening boarded the Circassia for New York, whereshe arrived eleven days later--three days after the return of Wallace, who had sailed on a faster vessel. 

One can imagine something of the loneliness and desolation which thisyoung and delicately reared girl experienced upon finding herself adriftand an utter stranger in that great city and with but little money inher purse. 

She longed to learn the circumstances of Wallace's supposed death, hergrief over which had been newly aroused on returning to her native land. 

She had known before leaving for Europe that he had received an offer ofpartnership with some New York architect; but he had not mentioned thename of the gentleman before she left, and not having received any ofhis letters, she did not know whether he had closed with the offer, andtherefore, did not know where to go to make any inquiries relative tohis movements after her departure. 

She dare not go to Cincinnati to ascertain--she dare not write to askanything about him, for she was determined that her sister should notknow where she was. She had become entirely alienated by her unkindness, and felt that she would much prefer to toil for her daily bread than togo back to her and be subject to her arbitrary control again. 

"There are hundreds of girls as young as I, even younger, who have tosupport themselves, and I believe I am just as capable of earning my ownliving, " she mused, considering her future. "At any rate, I amdetermined to make the trial, and if I find I cannot earn a living therewill be time enough then to appeal to the court to appoint a differentguardian for me, and demand my money from Wilhelm. "

The poor child had yet to learn that there was no money to demand. 

She found a quiet, respectable boarding-place a few days after herarrival in New York, and then took time by the forelock, by insertingthe following advertisement in two of the daily papers:

 A LADY, JUST RETURNED FROM EUROPE, and fitted to teach music and French, would like a few pupils. Address H, at this office. 

Two days thereafter Violet received a single letter in answer to heradvertisement, and it read thus:

 "If H. Will call at No. ---- Fifth avenue, she may learn something to her advantage. "

Violet was greatly disappointed to receive only one response; but sheargued that one pupil might open the way for others; so she dressedherself with great care, took her music-roll under her arm, and made herway to the address mentioned. 

"No. ---- Fifth avenue" proved to be a palatial residence, with the nameLawrence gleaming in silver letters upon the door, and Violet's heartsank a little as she mounted the marble steps, for she feared that shemight not be competent to teach in an aristocratic family such asdoubtless inhabited this elegant mansion. 

Her ring was answered by a colored servant, in livery to whom she statedher errand, giving him her card, whereupon she was ushered into areception-room upon the right of a magnificent hall. 

Everything about her bespoke unlimited wealth, while the most perfecttaste was displayed in the harmonizing tints of everything, the costlypictures, statuettes, bric-a-brac, and curios. 

Ten minutes elapsed. It seemed an age to anxious Violet; then the richdraperies of the archway leading into the hall were swept aside, and atall, finely proportioned man of perhaps fifty years entered herpresence. 

He was distinguished-looking, with clear-cut features, an intelligent, expressive eye, and a grandly shaped head; but there was a worn look onhis brow, a sad and anxious expression on his face that bespoke care andsorrow. 

"Miss Huntington, I presume, " he remarked, bowing gravely yetcourteously to her, as he glanced at the card which she had sent him bythe servant. 

"Yes, sir, " Violet replied, and taking the letter, which she hadreceived that morning, from her hand-bag, she passed it to him, whileshe added: "I have come to inquire if I am to find a pupil here. Ijudged that such must be the fact, since the letter was in response tomy advertisement. "

Mr. Lawrence did not reply immediately; he seemed to be studying thebeautiful girl before him--the sad though lovely face, which was crownedwith such a mass of gleaming gold; the graceful figure, in its simplebut tasteful costume, while the small hand, so neatly incased in itsperfectly fitting glove, and the little foot, in its natty walking-boot, did not escape his observation. 

It was easy to perceive that he was favorably impressed by his fairvisitor, for when he did speak, he was more kind and courteous thanbefore. 

"I was impressed, Miss Huntington, when I read your advertisement, thatyou were a young lady in search of employment, " he said; "and as I amalso looking for some young lady to fill a vacancy, it occurred to methat, although you had advertised for 'pupils, ' you might bepersuaded--if we should be mutually pleased with each other--to devoteyourself to one, provided the remuneration were sufficient. "

"Ah! you are looking for a governess, " Violet remarked, with a quietsmile, and in no wise displeased by the proposition. 

"Not a governess, according to the common acceptation of the term, " thegentleman returned, in a sad tone. "But let me tell you exactly how I amsituated, and what I desire; then you can decide as to the desirabilityof the position. I have a daughter, " Mr. Lawrence resumed, after amoment of thought, "who is in her twelfth year. She is blind----"

"Blind!" repeated Violet, in such a tender, sympathetic tone, and withsuch a compassionate glance that her companion's face lighted with agrateful smile. 

"Yes, " he answered, "she was born totally blind. It is a peculiar case, and I have been told there is only one other on record like it. It iscalled cataract of the lens; but when my child was nine months old anoted oculist, whom we consulted, thought that an operation might beperformed which would at least give her a portion of her sight. Ofcourse, I was willing to consent to anything that would mitigate, evento the smallest extent, her heavy affliction. The cataracts werepunctured through the pupils, and she saw, very faintly at first, but, as time elapsed and the cataracts began to be absorbed, her sightstrengthened somewhat. Her sight is very limited, however; she can seeto get about the house, and distinguishes objects of any size with theaid of glasses, but not well enough to read, and whatever she learns istaught by reading aloud to her. She has a remarkable memory, as mostblind people have, I believe, and she is extremely fond of music, bothvocal and instrumental. Do you sing, Miss Huntington?" Mr. Lawrenceasked, suddenly breaking in upon his account of his little daughter'scondition. 

"Yes, sir, I have spent more time upon vocal culture than uponinstrumental music, " Violet responded, and this assurance drew forth asmile of approbation from her host. 

"I have had many governesses for her, " the gentleman resumed, "and shehas spent two years in an institution for the blind, though for the lastsix months I have been obliged myself to teach her all that she haslearned. And now I come to the most trying portion of my story, " headded, a slight flush tinging his face. "I feel it is only right that Ishould be perfectly frank with you in the matter, and so feel obliged totell you that Bertha possesses a very strong, an almost indomitablewill, and there are times when she becomes sullen and unmanageable. Shewill not study, she will not practice, or do anything which she imaginesis required of her; and thus, for a time, the whole household is in amost uncomfortable state; for while she refuses obedience to others, sheis equally insistent upon requiring instant compliance with all herdemands. When the fit passes she is again gentle, merry and lovable. Now, my object in sending for you Miss Huntington, was, providing I wasfavorably impressed with you, to ask if you would consent to devote allyour time to one pupil instead of several. The position will require asteady, persistent, even temperament--one of mingled gentleness andfirmness--and I believe I see lines of decision in your face; you have astrong will, have you not?"

"I have been told that I have, " Violet replied, smiling, "but"--growingvery grave again--"whether I possess firmness sufficient to cope withthe will you have described, I cannot say. I have never had anyexperience in the government of children; but I should say that tactwould prove more effective in the management of your daughter than anobstinate insistence regarding obedience. "

Mr. Lawrence's face lighted at this remark. 

"That is the wisest observation that I have ever heard any governessmake regarding the control of Bertha, " he said. "Miss Huntington, willyou make a trial of it for a while?"

Still Violet looked grave. She felt that the responsibility would be agreat one, and she trembled for the result. 

Yet her sympathies were enlisted both for this careworn, perplexedfather, and for his afflicted child, while, too, the idea of apermanent, pleasant home was an attractive feature to her. 

"Money would be no object, " Mr. Lawrence continued, as she did notreply, "if the right person could be obtained, and if you could butachieve a strong influence over the child and sway her by tact, or byany other method, I would gladly give you any price you choose to name. Somehow I feel impelled to urge you to come to us--the very fact thatyou hesitate to accept the position assures me that you are wise in theconsideration of all projects. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

VIOLET MAKES AN ENGAGEMENT. 

Violet was deeply touched by the sad account to which she had listened. It seemed very hard that this poor child, who lived amid all thisluxury, and who was surrounded with everything to make life delightful, should be so deprived of the enjoyment of it, and the young girl's heartyearned toward the unfortunate little heiress; her eyes grew moist andtender with pity; her face shone with a sincere sympathy, and theanxious father, as he watched her, felt an increasing desire to secureher services for his afflicted daughter. 

"I fear that I am too young and inexperienced to assume such aresponsibility, " Violet began, at length. "Truth compels me to tell youfrankly that I have never taught, and that only recent reverses havedriven me to the necessity of earning my own living. Do you think thatMiss Bertha's mother would approve----"

She checked herself suddenly, for the expression of pain which sweptover her companion's face warned her that she had touched upon a tendersubject. 

"I should have told you, to begin with, Miss Huntington, that Bertha hasno mother--she died at the time of Bertha's birth, and my poor littlegirl has had to grow up without a mother's love or care, " Mr. Lawrencereplied, with evident emotion. "As far as your youthfulness isconcerned, " he resumed, after a moment of thought, "I am inclined tothink that it is in your favor, and that you will succeed better withBertha on that account. I am afraid that I have made a mistakeheretofore in employing companions who were too mature to sympathizewith her in her childish tastes and desires, as a younger person wouldperhaps have done. If you should decide in favor of the position, youwould of course reside here with us, and your time would be chieflyoccupied with Bertha, for she needs constant care. I would like her tohave regular lessons--by that I mean you would have to read aloud whatshe was to learn, and talk it over with her until it became fixed in hermemory. Then--your advertisement stated that you desired pupils inFrench; do you speak the language readily?"

"Yes, sir; I have studied years under a native teacher, while, duringmost of the past year I was abroad, the last four months I spent inParis and devoted exclusively to perfecting myself in music and French. "

"I am gratified to learn that, " Mr. Lawrence said, "because I wishBertha to be able to speak French as readily as she can English, as Iintend to take her abroad at no distant day--to Paris--to see ifsomething more cannot be done to improve her sight. As for music, youwill have no difficulty in teaching her that, for the child ispassionately fond of it, and is never so happy as when she is at thepiano or organ. You perceive that you would have to be both teacher andcompanion--I hope I do not frighten you with all these requirements, Miss Huntington, " the gentleman interposed, smiling, "but I wish you tofully understand, at the outset, what your duties will be. Do you objectto giving up your plan of having a number of pupils and taking oneinstead?"

"Oh, no, " Violet answered, thoughtfully; "I think, on the whole, that Ishould prefer to do so, if I were sure of my competency for theposition. It appears a great responsibility to have the care andtraining of a motherless girl like Miss Bertha. "

"Are you fond of children?" Mr. Lawrence inquired. 

Violet's face lighted, as she replied:

"Yes, indeed, although I have been very little with them during my life;while my heart goes forth with a strange yearning toward your littledaughter, and I believe I would really like to devote myself to her--atleast, make the trial--and see if I cannot make the time pass agreeablyand profitably to her. "

Mr. Lawrence was very much gratified at this response. He saw thatViolet was wholly sincere in what she said, while her apparent sympathyfor his afflicted child touched him deeply. 

"I am very much pleased to hear you say that, " he remarked, with agenial smile, and Violet was greatly surprised that he did not ask forreferences regarding either her character or qualifications. "Now, wouldyou like to see Bertha?" he asked. "I suppose we shall be obliged tosecure her sanction to this arrangement, for, to be perfectly frank withyou, her intuitions are very keen; she is a child of strong likes anddislikes, and unless she is favorably impressed with a person, it isalmost impossible for that one to influence her. "

Violet's heart sank at this, for if her future was to be governed by thecapricious fancies of a willful child, she feared that a very tryingexperience lay before her. 

Nevertheless she signified her desire to see this young autocrat, whoappeared to exercise such supreme control in that household. Rising, shefollowed Mr. Lawrence from the room, up a wide, richly carpetedstair-way, to a large, sunny apartment which overlooked the busy street. 

It was a very pleasant room, and furnished with every luxury and deviceto amuse, that the most exacting nature could desire. 

In a large, richly upholstered chair, by one of the windows, sat a verypretty girl of about twelve years. She had a clear, beautifulcomplexion, with brown hair, rather massive features for one so young, but upon which there were plainly written great strength of will anddecision of character; yet there was a sweet expression about her mouthwhich bespoke a loving nature, and at once attracted Violet. 

Her eyes were blue, but it was evident that they were very defective insight, though they were partially concealed by the glasses which shewore. 

She was amusing herself with some gayly dressed dolls that lay uponanother chair in front of her, while a maid sat near by, engaged indressing another. 

The child looked up eagerly as the door opened, for she had recognizedher father's step; her lips wreathed with fond smiles, which plainlyindicated that she was devotedly attached to him. 

"Why, papa!" she exclaimed, in a tone of surprise; "I didn't know thatyou were at home. Did you bring me some candy? Who is that with you?"she added, quickly, as she caught the sound of Violet's light steps. 

"I have brought you something far better than candy, " her fatherresponded, with a tender note in his voice; "I have invited a young ladyto come up to see you. Miss Huntington, this is my little daughter, Bertha. "

"Come here, Miss Huntington!" the child said, imperatively, and Violetwent at once to her side, greeting her in her gentle voice. 

"You are very good to come to see me, " the child said, more courteouslythan she had previously spoken, for Violet's sweet tones had attractedher. "I like your voice. Put your face down and let me see it. "

Violet knelt beside her chair, thus bringing her face on a level withBertha's. 

The young girl strained her gaze to get a view of it, but this notproving satisfactory, she passed her fingers lightly over Violet'sdelicate features, their touch lingering longest upon her sweet lips. 

"You are lovely, " she said, naively, after the examination. "Are you oneof papa's especial friends?"

Violet smiled, and a dash of exquisite color shot into her cheeks at theform of the question. 

"No, dear; I am simply here to ascertain if I will be a suitablegoverness and companion for you, " she answered, thinking it best to cometo the point at once. 

"Oh!" and Miss Bertha's tone changed instantly. Evidently the subject ofa governess was not an acceptable one to her. "I hate governesses; theyare stiff and proper. Do you get cross and ill-natured when little girlsdon't mind you, Miss Huntington?"

Violet laughed out in her musical, merry way at this personal question. 

"Because if you do, " the child went on, gravely, "I don't want you. Allmy governesses have been cross and wouldn't let me do as I want to. Whata nice smile you have!" she rambled on, her fingers lingeringcaressingly about Violet's mouth, "and you laugh out so prettily I liketo hear it. You are pretty and--and nice, aren't you?"

"Perhaps it would be just as well, dear, not to discuss those points atpresent, " Violet returned, with some embarrassment, for Mr. Lawrence'ssmiling eyes told her that he fully concurred in his daughter's admiringremarks; "but I hope I could never be cross or ill-natured toward anylittle girl, " and the sudden tenderness that leaped into her tone seemedto add, as plainly as words could have done, "who could not see. "

"I reckon you are nice, " said Bertha, reflectively. "Do you like dolls?"she asked, as she laid her hand upon the group in her lap. 

"Yes, indeed, " and Violet laughed and flushed consciously. "Do youknow, " she added, confidentially, "after I became so old that I wasashamed to be seen playing with them, I used to beg to be allowed todress them for fairs and for the children of my friends? Of course underthose circumstances I could not be accused of playing with them, andyet, between you and me, I had a very nice time with them. "

Violet thereupon began making some inquiries regarding the doll familybefore her, and quite an entertaining conversation was kept up forseveral minutes, greatly to the amusement of Mr. Lawrence and the maid, who had never before seen a would-be-governess put herself so _enrapport_ with her prospective pupil. They had always seemed to thinkthey must be "stiff" and "proper, " as Bertha had said. 

"Do you play the organ and piano, and can you sing?" Bertha inquired, eagerly, after the subject of dolls had been exhausted. 

"Yes; would you like me to play you something?" Violet asked, as shebegan to draw off her gloves. 

"Yes, yes!" cried the child, an earnest look of expectation and pleasureflashing into her face. 

Violet went directly to a fine Steinway piano that was in the room, andwithout the slightest consciousness or embarrassment, thinking only ofcontributing to the young girl's employment, played a couple ofselections with great expression and correctness. 

"Now sing, " commanded Miss Bertha, upon the conclusion of the secondpiece; and Violet sang a lovely little ballad in her clear, pure, cultivated tones. 

There was not a sound in the room until the last note died away; thenBertha exclaimed, in a voice that thrilled with feeling:

"Oh, that was beautiful!"

Violet glanced at her, and saw that great tears were rolling down hercheeks, and she told herself that there must be much of good in a naturethat could be so affected by music. 

She could easily perceive that she had a strong will and was of asomewhat arbitrary temperament; but she believed that she had beenantagonized and confirmed in these faults by unwise government. 

She went again to her side, saying in a tender tone:

"You are fond of music, aren't you, dear?" and as she spoke she gentlywiped her tears away with her own dainty handkerchief. 

The child, moved by some sudden impulse, caught her hand and kissed itpassionately. 

"I like you, Miss Huntington, and you shall stay with me!" she cried. 

"Bertha, " interposed her father, reprovingly, "you should not speak insuch a way, and that is a matter which Miss Huntington will have todecide for herself. "

"Will you stay?" urged Bertha, appealingly, and still clinging to thehand she had kissed. 

"Yes, dear, if you think that you could be happy with me, " Violetanswered, and Bertha asserted confidently that she could--that sheshould be unhappy without her, while she promised that she would "begood" and attentive to her lessons; that she would even "try real hard"to learn the multiplication table, which had hitherto been a sharp thornin the flesh, and a bone of contention between herself and her formergovernesses. 

Mr. Lawrence was very much pleased to observe how readily Violetappeared to acquire an influence over the willful, headstrong girl, whohad in every previous instance rebelled against the engagement of agoverness, and he felt that he would be very fortunate in securing herservices. 

"I am exceedingly gratified that you are willing to undertake thecharge, " he said, gratefully. 

"I almost wonder at your willingness to trust her to me, " Violetanswered, smiling, yet her lips quivered slightly, for it seemed like avery sacred charge to her. 

"On account of youth and inexperience, I suppose, " he returned; thenadded, reassuringly: "But, as I said before, I believe that will be inyour favor, although I warn you that you will have to exercise firmnessand judgment at all times. But when can you come to us, MissHuntington?"

"Whenever you wish, " she replied. 

"At once?--to-morrow?"

"Yes, sir; I have but to give up my lodgings and have my trunk removed. "

"That will be perfectly delightful, papa, " Bertha exclaimed, eagerly, "and you will sing and play to me; you will amuse me every day, will younot, Miss Huntington?"

"Yes, to a reasonable extent; but, in return, you will try faithfully tolearn all that I wish to teach you?" stipulated Violet. 

"Yes, I will try, " the child said, earnestly, as she again pressed herlips to Violet's hand. 

"Now, my pet, you will have to excuse us, " said Mr. Lawrence, rising. "Ihave a few more arrangements to make with Miss Huntington, and we mustnot detain her longer. "

"I wish you did not need to go at all, " Bertha said, wistfully. 

"Perhaps you will be wishing to send me away before a great while, "Violet remarked, with a quiet laugh. 

"No, indeed; I am sure I shall never want to give you up, " persisted thechild, confidently. 

Violet bent to kiss the sweet face upraised to hers, and then followedMr. Lawrence from the room, having first promised to "come earlyto-morrow. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

VIOLET AND HER UNRULY PUPIL. 

Mr. Lawrence led Violet back to the reception-room below, remarking, ashe courteously rolled a chair forward for her:

"I cannot tell you how pleased I am, Miss Huntington, with the cordialreception that Bertha has given you. It is seldom that she is sostrongly attracted by a stranger, and if you can but retain yourinfluence over her I am sure you cannot fail to do her good. I know thatyou will not be easily discouraged. "

"To be 'forewarned is to be forearmed, ' you know, sir, " Violet smilinglyresponded; then she added more seriously, and with a firmness which toldher companion that she was far from lacking in decision of character:"As I have already told you, I know but very little about teaching andless about governing, from personal experience, but, while I mean to domy duty faithfully and be all that is kind or considerate toward MissBertha, I believe it will be better for both of us, if I insist uponobedience and a cheerful compliance with my wishes--upon a regularroutine, during certain hours of the day, after which I shall be pleasedto attend to her pleasure and amusement. "

Mr. Lawrence's smile told Violet that he approved of the course whichshe had suggested, even before he replied:

"I agree with you most heartily, Miss Huntington, " he said, "and if youcan, by any means, put your theory into practice, you will succeed indoing more than any one else has ever done. Bertha is perfectly well andstrong, with the exception of her imperfect sight, and she ought to haveregular duties; but she is so willful and obstinate at times that othershave found it impossible to make her learn her lessons. She is naturallyaffectionate and tender-hearted, and good when she is not crossed; thenthere comes a severe trial of patience. But she is always repentant andremorseful after her willfulness until--she is crossed again. Now, whatwill you consider adequate remuneration for the giving up of your ownplans and assuming the responsibility which I desire to commit to you?"

Violet regarded her companion with unfeigned surprise. 

This was a new way of making terms with a governess, she thought--torequest her to set her own price for her services. 

"That is a matter which I supposed you would regulate yourself, " sheremarked, flushing slightly, "at least until we can ascertain whether Iam to be successful in my position. I hope that Miss Bertha and I willget on very agreeably, " she concluded, earnestly. 

"I feel very sure that you will, " Mr. Lawrence replied, confidently. "Myfamily, " he continued, "consists only of my daughter, my housekeeper, and myself, besides the servants. I fear it may be somewhat dull for youhere, at times, as we live so quietly; but we will endeavor to make itas pleasant as possible for you. We will enter into no formal contractat present--I would not ask you to pledge yourself to remain any lengthof time, until you have an opportunity to realize what your duties andresponsibilities will be; but if--while you do remain--a hundred dollarsa quarter will be sufficient for your needs, I shall consider myselffortunate in securing your services for that amount. "

"The sum will be ample, thank you, " Violet returned, secretly thinkingit a very generous offer, while she began to realize that she was alsovery fortunate in securing so pleasant a home and such a remunerativeposition, instead of having to trust to promiscuous pupils for herliving. 

Still, she knew that it would be no light task to have to be eyes forthe blind, and subject to the willfulness and obstinacy of a capriciousand over-indulged child. That there would be many severe trials in herposition she did not doubt, but there would also be comfort in havingthe protection of a home, and, perhaps, the occasional companionship ofa cultured gentleman like Mr. Lawrence. 

She arose to take her leave now, and Mr. Lawrence himself accompaniedher to the door instead of calling a servant to show her out. 

He bade her a courteous good-day, saying he should hope to see her asearly as convenient on the morrow, and offering to send his carriage forher if she would give him her address. 

Violet thanked him, but declined his kind offer, for she was not quitesure at what hour she would be ready to leave her lodgings, as she hadtwo or three errands to do in the morning. 

But about eleven o'clock the next day she arrived at her future home, where she found Mr. Lawrence just going to his office down town. 

He greeted her warmly, waiting until her trunk was brought in, anddirected that it should be carried up to the blue room. 

Then, as he was about leaving he remarked, with earnest hospitality:

"Pray make yourself perfectly at home, Miss Huntington, call upon theservants for anything you want, and command me at any time. "

Violet thanked him, and then followed her trunk to the blue room, whichshe found to be a lovely apartment with an alcove, adjoining Bertha'ssitting-room, and furnished with all the comfort and elegance to whichshe had been accustomed to all her life in her own home. 

And now a strange, new life opened before her. 

Hitherto she had lived a life of ease and pleasure; with plenty of moneyat her command, she had been able to gratify every whim or caprice; inher luxurious home, servants had waited upon her, and she had beenpetted and indulged, and, as a general thing, allowed to have her ownway. 

Now she was to serve and be subject to an arrogant and overbearingchild. 

She knew that her duties would call for unlimited patience andself-control, and now that she found the die was cast, she was almostappalled to think that she had dared to assume so much. 

To all intents and purposes, she was alone in the world--separated andalienated from her sister and her husband; cut off, as she believed, bydeath, from her beloved young husband, she had no one to whom she couldturn in any trouble or emergency. 

But the varied experiences of the last four months had begun to developpowers within her, which she had never before dreamed that shepossessed. She had grown strong, resolute, and self-reliant incharacter; she had learned to plan for herself financially, and to feelthat life had been given to her for some other purpose than simpleenjoyment and pleasure. 

The gayety and impulsiveness which had characterized her previous to hertroubles, had given place to a sweet and quiet dignity, a charminggentleness and grace which were very attractive, and so, with a brave, firm heart, and an unwavering trust in the strong Hand, on which she hadbegun to lean during her illness in Mrs. Richardson's home and under herinfluence, she bravely took up the burden of her lonely life, andresolved to do her very best in the trying position she had assumed. 

But she had many sad hours, nevertheless; the bright past wouldsometimes arise, like some alluring phantom to remind her of her formerhappy, care-free life, and mock her in her present loneliness andsorrow, and for the time being the deep waters would seem to roll overher soul and threaten to swamp her beneath their cruel waves. 

But she never yielded to such depression long--her bruised heart wouldalways rise above her sorrow after a time, and turn with trustingconfidence to the Comforter in whom her faith was every day growingstronger. 

Bertha Lawrence, as has been seen from her father's account, had been anover-indulged child all her life. 

From the hour when he had first discovered the dreadful fact that hismotherless little girl was blind--a discovery which had nearly unsettledhis reason--he had felt that the devotion of himself and all that hepossessed could not make up to her for the loss of her sight, and he hadspared nothing that would contribute to her comfort or enjoyment. He hadliterally showered luxuries and expensive gifts upon her from the veryfirst, and once, when a friend had chided him for his lavishness andextravagance, he had replied that he "should regard a fortune as wellspent if it would give her pleasure. "

This, of course, was mistaken kindness, though prompted by tenderestlove, for pleasure and unlimited gratification palled upon her after awhile, and this course of indulgence only developed a selfish spirit andan unusually strong will, which she had inherited from both parents. 

If she was crossed ever so lightly, a spirit of antagonism and obstinacywas instantly aroused, which it sometimes took days to overcome, and wasoften made worse by servile coaxing and bribing on the part of those whohad the care of her, this being considered the easiest way to get alongwith her. 

Violet had a trial of this nature not very many days after she assumedher duties as companion, and governess, and how she met it will bedeveloped. 

Miss Bertha always took her breakfast in her private sitting-room, because, as she retired early, she awoke earlier in the morning than theother members of the family, and it was thought best that she should notwait to eat with them. 

When Violet learned this, she at once said that she would take herbreakfast with her charge, if it would be agreeable to her. 

Bertha thought this was very kind, and a delightful arrangement, and fora few days everything moved along harmoniously. 

But one morning there came a storm to dispel this unusual calm. 

Bertha had given orders for something that she particularly wanted forbreakfast, but through some misunderstanding or oversight, it was notprovided, although the table was very nicely laid with broiled chicken, hot rolls, Lyonnaise potatoes, and an omelet, the latter usually being afavorite with the young lady. 

"Where are my oysters?" Miss Bertha demanded, with a frown, after theservant had named over the various viands upon the table, and shediscovered that her order had been ignored. 

"The man did not bring them, Miss Bertha, " the girl answered. 

"But I want some broiled oysters, " persisted the unreasonable child. 

"I am very sorry, I am sure----" began the servant, when Berthainterrupted her, angrily:

"That doesn't make any difference; I'm going to have the oysters, and Ishall not eat any breakfast until I get them. "

A threat of this kind usually resulted in somebody flying around toprocure the desired delicacy, for the child was stubborn enough to keepher word, and it was believed it would never do to allow one born tosuch luxury to fast. 

"I am sure this is a very nice breakfast, Bertha, " Violet hereinterposed. "This broiled chicken is delicious; those hot rolls are justa lovely brown, and the sight of that golden omelet makes my mouthwater. "

But Bertha would not be coaxed--that had been tried too often alreadywithout avail. She threw herself back in her chair, a sullen, determinedlook on her face. 

"Come, dear; I am really quite hungry, " persevered Violet, as she tookher by the hand to lead her to the table. 

Bertha snatched it rudely away. 

"I do not want any breakfast, " she pouted. 

"But it is very nice, and you can have the oysters to-morrow morning, "urged Violet. 

"I want them now. Mary, send John for them at once, and then have themcooked immediately, " the child commanded, arbitrarily. 

"But, miss, it would take a long time, and you would be half famishedbefore you got your breakfast, " remonstrated Mary. 

"I don't care; I will have them!" Bertha insisted, passionately. 

"No, dear, not this morning, " Violet said, kindly, but firmly, andthinking it best to take matters into her own hands and settle them oncefor all. "Mary, roll Miss Bertha's chair to the table, and we will eatwhat we have. "

The girl turned to obey, but Bertha struck at her, saying that she wasto be let alone; she would not have any breakfast. 

Violet thought a moment; then, with a significant glance at the servant, she said, quietly:

"Very well, Mary; if Miss Bertha does not care to eat, of course sheneed not. I will, however, have my breakfast now, as this nice chickenwill be getting cold. You may pour out a cup of coffee for me, if youplease. "

She seated herself at the table and began to help herself to the variousviands, and entirely ignoring the presence of the sulky girl on theother side of the room. 

The servant looked very much amused at this new departure, while Berthaappeared speechless from astonishment. 

She had never been dealt with in this manner before, and did not exactlyknow how to meet such treatment. 

Violet was assured, and indeed Mr. Lawrence had told her, that Berthawas a perfectly well child; therefore, she thought it would do her noharm to fast, and she was not at all troubled by her refusal to eat, atleast not more so than what the unpleasant occurrence caused her tofeel. 

She proceeded quietly with her own employment, talking a little now andthen with Mary, but not once addressing Bertha. 

When she finished her meal, she asked, as a matter of form merely:

"Bertha, is there anything you would like from the table before Maryremoves the service?"

"No; I want my oysters, " was the pouting reply. 

"Very well; then, Mary, you may take the things away, and you can tellthe cook that we will have the broiled oysters to-morrow morning, "Violet said, composedly. 

Bertha lifted her head, a look of blank dismay written on every feature. Her face flushed an angry red, but apparently she did not know just whatto do under the circumstances, and so continued to remain sulkilysilent. 

She was too proud and obstinate to succumb and eat anything, althoughthe cravings of her healthful appetite were making themselves keenlyfelt, and so the tempting breakfast was removed. 

When the servant finally disappeared, after brushing up and putting theroom in order, Bertha's passion broke all bounds. 

She threw herself prone upon the floor, and began to cry and sobviolently. 

Violet paid no attention, however, to this outbreak, but taking up abook, appeared to be reading, although she was so excited and troubledby this first conflict with her pupil that she was unconscious that herbook was upside down. 

The child cried for nearly half an hour, and not one word was spokenduring that time. At last Bertha arose from her prostrate position, andmoved toward the electric button which governed a bell in the kitchen. 

"What are you going to do, Bertha?" Violet quietly asked. 

"I am going to have my oysters, " was the sullen yet determined reply. 

"No, dear, you cannot have any oysters this morning; you must wait forthem until to-morrow, " Violet said, with a ring of decision in her tonewhich plainly indicated that there would be no repeal of the sentence. "If you are really hungry, Mary may bring you a cup of chocolate andsome toast. "

"I hate chocolate and toast, and I want my breakfast. Nobody ever daredto treat me so before. I will have oysters, " she concluded, shriekingout those last words passionately. 

Violet made no reply, and the child stood irresolute for a few moments, then threw herself into a chair and began to swing her feet back andforth violently, kicking the frame with every movement. 

This uncomfortable state of affairs lasted until the clock struck nine, when Violet laid aside her book, saying, pleasantly, and as if nothingunusual had happened:

"Come, Bertha, it is time for our lessons. "

She arose and wheeled the small table, upon which their text books werealways kept, toward the bay-window where Bertha liked to sit, andseating herself, took up a history and began to read aloud, as was hercustom. 

"No, " cried Bertha, in an irritating tone, "I am not going to have anylessons this morning. I want my breakfast. "

Violet was astonished at such persistent obstinacy in one so young; butshe was determined that she would not yield to it. She felt that if sheconquered in this first conflict she would be reasonably sure to comeoff victor in other encounters, while if she allowed herself to bebeaten she might as well give up her position at once, for she would beable to do the child no earthly good without a curbing influence overher. 

So she went quietly on with her reading, whereupon Miss Bertha clappedher hands over her ears as if to shut out the sound of her teacher'svoice. 

Violet was not going to waste her breath reading to the four walls, soshe shut and laid down her book with a heavy sigh, and wondering howlong this would last, and what she ought to do next. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

VIOLET GAINS A SIGNAL VICTORY. 

The child was only pretending not to hear. 

She caught the sound of her much-tried companion's sigh, and instantlyher lips began to twitch and curve slightly in a smile that hadsuspicion of triumph in it. 

Violet saw it, and instantly the lines about her own mouth grew firmerand more resolute. 

"She thinks to tire me out and gain her point, " she said to herself, "but I am going to settle who is to rule, once for all, for if I cannothave her respectful obedience it will be useless for me to remain here. "

She arose and passed into her own room, but presently returned bringingwith her a dainty little basket in which there lay some fancy-work andbright flosses. 

Resuming her seat by the window, she busied herself with her embroidery, apparently oblivious of the fact that there was any one else in theroom. 

The hour that followed was tedious in the extreme to both teacher andpupil, for not one single word was spoken during that time. 

When the clock struck ten--the hour generally devoted to music--Violetarose, and, going to the piano, began to play. 

Instantly Bertha's chubby hands went up to her ears again, but her youngteacher, without appearing to notice the movement, kept on, and did afaithful half-hour's practice for herself. 

Then she began to sing a sweet little ballad which she had learned soonafter her mother's death. It was plaintive, and told the story of alonely little heart longing for mother-love, and she had not reached theend of the second verse when she saw the tears streaming over Bertha'slittle face, and knew that her wedge had entered the obstinate littlesoul. 

Still she pretended to ignore her, keeping on with her song until shehad finished it, then she went back to her work in the window. 

Presently a timid, somewhat uncertain voice said:

"Miss Huntington. "

"Well, dear. "

"May--may I have oysters for my lunch?"

"Ah! those oysters! Were ever such tender things so hard to be disposedof?" But she took courage from the form of the request and the appealingtone. 

"No, dear, " she quietly answered. 

"Why?" imperatively. 

"Because I have said, once, that you cannot have them, and have givenMary orders to provide them for your breakfast to-morrow morning, " wasthe calm response; then she added: "Now, let us talk no more about theunpleasant subject, but attend to our duties. It is time for yourgeography lesson. "

"I do not want my geography. I must do my history first, " was therebellious response. 

"The history hour is past, and will not come again until to-morrow, "Violet replied. 

She knew that the child was very much interested in her history--shealways listened attentively while she read it to her, and seldom had tobe prompted in repeating it; but the lessons had all been assigned forcertain hours in the day, and she did not intend to break her rules orbe governed by the caprices of this spoiled girl of twelve. 

"I don't care; I shall not do my geography until I have done myhistory, " retorted Bertha, angrily. 

"Bertha, " said Violet, gravely, "we are going to do the lessons in theirregular order every day, for if we jumble things we shall never have anysystem. Now, I hope you are going to do right, because only those who dotheir duty are happy. I know you are unhappy now because you have donewrong this morning, and it makes me sad also. We did not begin the dayjust as we should, but let us go on and finish it as well as we can, andtry to do better to-morrow. "

"No-o; if I cannot do my history, I shall not do anything else, " thegirl answered, defiantly. 

"Very well, " Violet said, coldly, "then there will be no lessons to-day, nor reading of any kind. "

"Oh! aren't you going to read to me from that nice book that papabrought to me yesterday?" Bertha demanded, anxiously. 

"No, I cannot read to any little girl who will not obey me. "

"I never obey anybody but papa, " was the pouting rejoinder. 

"Your father wishes you to obey me, Bertha, and--if you do not I shallbe obliged to go away. I shall never ask you to do anything save what Ibelieve to be right, and if you cannot give me your obedience I shallhave to find some other little girl to teach. "

A look of dismay passed over Bertha's face for a moment; but havingalways won the victory in all previous battles with other governesses, she imagined that she would win this, eventually. 

"I don't care--I am not going to do any lessons today, " she said, shortly, and Violet felt severely tried--indeed, almost discouraged. 

But she had made up her mind not to yield her point, and so kept quietlyon with her work. 

Bertha brought out her dolls and began to play with them, and for acouple of hours she managed to get on very well. At the end of that timeshe grew tired of being so by herself, and begged Violet to read to her. 

"Come here, Bertha, if you please, " Violet said, without replyingdirectly to her question. 

Bertha, wondering at the grave tone, went and stood before her teacher. 

"Can you see my face, dear?" she asked. 

"Yes, " the child said, peering up at her curiously. 

"Can you see my eyes?"

"Yes, I see them, " Bertha replied, bringing her face very close toViolet's. 

"Tell me how they look. "

"They look kind of--sorry, and your face is like papa's when he isgrieved and displeased with me. "

"I am sorry and grieved; more grieved than I can tell you, to have hadthis trouble with my little friend, " Violet said, sadly. "You know, dear, that you are not doing right, and that I should be doing you wrongand injury to let you have your own way. You would not respect me orbelieve me truthful if I should give up to you. I have told you just howthe lessons must go on, and I shall make no change, and if you cannot doas I wish, you must amuse yourself as best you can. "

"And you will not read me any stories at all today?" and there was asuspicious tremor in the young tones, for the child dearly loved thisrecreation, and Violet was a very entertaining reader. 

"No; the stories only come after lessons, you know. "

Bertha went thoughtfully back to her dolls, and played by herself untilluncheon was brought up, when she sat down at the table and ateheartily, for by this time she was very hungry. 

No mention was made of oysters, and Violet earnestly hoped that thatbattle would not have to be fought over again. 

After luncheon, blocks and other playthings were called into service, and the child busied herself with them during the greater part of theafternoon. 

Now and then she would ask some question of Violet, who answered kindlyand pleasantly, but always without looking up from her work or appearingto be in the least interested in Bertha's employment. 

When twilight began to gather, Bertha left her toys and came to sit downby her teacher--who had now laid aside her work--her young face wearinga very sober look. After a while she slipped one hand into that ofViolet, who clasped it kindly and drew her still nearer. 

"Will you please sing me something, Miss Huntington?" the child asked, after a while. 

"I should be very glad to, Bertha, but I cannot today, " was the gravereply. 

Nothing further was said upon that subject, and presently they fell totalking in a quiet, social way, and this was kept up until dinner wasannounced, when Violet and her pupil went down, as was their custom, toeat with Mr. Lawrence. 

"How have the lessons been getting on to-day, little daughter?" Mr. Lawrence inquired during the meal, and observing that Bertha was morequiet than usual. 

The child grew suddenly crimson, hesitated a moment, and then said:

"I didn't feel much like lessons to-day. Will you take me out for adrive to-morrow, papa?"

It was evident to all that Miss Bertha wished to change the subjectintroduced by her father, and Mr. Lawrence smiled as he glancedsignificantly at Violet, thus showing that he understood there had beentrouble in the school-room. 

"Perhaps so, dear, " he answered. "We will see how the lessons get onto-morrow, " and then he began talking of other things. 

After dinner, however, he asked Violet if there had been anydisturbance, and she gave him a truthful account of all that hadoccurred, remarking, as she concluded:

"I believed that if I could be firm at the outset and make the dearchild understand that I must have her obedience, it would be better forall of us. If I had allowed her to conquer me in this, I am convincedthat it would have been but the beginning of trouble, and I could be ofbut little service to her. "

"You are right, Miss Huntington, " Mr. Lawrence said, bestowing a glanceof approbation upon her, and secretly well pleased with this evidence ofher decision of character, "and it would have been far better if Berthahad had a firm rule like this from early childhood. All her othergovernesses have yielded to her, and I fear I have not carried as steadya hand with her as I should have done. Keep on as you have begun, MissHuntington, and you will secure my unbounded gratitude, if you canconquer this singular obstinacy which has seemed to possess the childall her life. "

Violet was much relieved to find that he regarded her course of actionso sensibly, and she felt strengthened to go on as she had begun. 

The next morning the much-contested oysters appeared upon thebreakfast-table, and they were broiled to a delicious flavor. 

No remark was made about them until Violet put a bountiful supply upon aplate and told Mary to pass them to Miss Bertha. 

"I do not want any oysters, and I shall not eat any, " that young ladyasserted, much to Violet's dismay, for she had flattered herself thatthere would be no trouble on that question that morning. 

"Then give them to me, if you please, Mary, " she quietly said, thenhelped Bertha to a nice bit of steak, which she requested the girl tocut up for her. 

"I wonder if we are going to have yesterday's experience repeated, " theyoung teacher said to herself, but she could see by the expression onBertha's face that she was greatly disappointed at being taken at herword. She had evidently expected to be coaxed to eat her oysters, andwhen she was not, she was ashamed to ask for them. "I am sorry for her, "thought Violet, with a sigh, "but I do believe the lesson will do hergood, and will never need to be repeated. "

She began to chat pleasantly upon other subjects, and the meal wasfinished in the most friendly manner. 

At nine o'clock Violet took up the history, and began to read theneglected lesson of yesterday, while Bertha paid earnest attention toevery word, after which she gave a very clear account of what she hadheard. 

She then went to her practice without a word of objection, and performedher work faithfully, after which her other lessons were taken up asusual. 

All during the day she was obedient and respectful, and when the lessonswere completed, Violet, with a tenderer feeling for her than she had yetexperienced, read her the most charming story that she could find. 

By the middle of the afternoon Mr. Lawrence paid them a visit, andfinding his daughter in a sunnier mood than usual, looked the pleasurehe felt. 

He told them that he had come to take them to drive in Central Park, anda few minutes after they were rolling rapidly out toward that beautifulspot, behind a pair of handsome bays. 

That evening, just before it was time for Bertha to retire, she stolesoftly to Violet's side, wound her arms about her neck, and, peeringeagerly into her face, shyly remarked:

"Miss Huntington, your eyes do not look 'sorry' tonight. "

"No, indeed, dear; they ought to look very bright and happy, after sucha delightful day as we have had, " Violet answered. 

"It has been a good day, hasn't it?" Bertha questioned, laying her headfondly on her teacher's shoulder. 

"Yes, and all days will be 'good days, ' if we do right, " was the gentleresponse, as Violet passed her arm around the child and drew her closerto her. 

"I wonder, Miss Huntington, if you will get to love me by and by, "Bertha said, wistfully, after a little pause. 

"I love you now, dear, " was the sweet-voiced assurance. 

"Truly. "

"Yes, truly and dearly, " and a soft kiss emphasized the statement. 

"But----"

"But what, Bertha?"

"You didn't love me yesterday. "

"Oh, yes, I did, my dear child. "

"How could you? It did not seem like love when you were so--so stern andset. "

"I certainly should not have shown love for you it I had allowed you tohave your own way. "

"Shall you always be so?"

"'So'--how?"

"Why, set--determined. "

"I hope I shall always be firm enough to do what is right, dear. "

"Is it right to make little girls do what they do not want to?"

"Yes, if what they wish to do is wrong. "

"Don't you ever say 'yes, ' when you have once said 'no, ' MissHuntington?"

"I do not mean to, Bertha, for I am afraid that a certain little girl, whom I know, would not trust or respect me if I should, " Violetanswered, gravely. 

"I love you, " said the child, impulsively, and Violet felt that she hadwon no mean victory, and the one influence of which would be felt aslong as she retained her present position. 

Those three simple, earnest words told her that, by continuing firmduring their recent contest, she had gained an influence and hold uponthe young girl's heart that she would never lose, and she resolved topersevere in the course she had laid out for herself. 

It was easy to resolve when her pupil was in such a delightful mood, butit was not so easy to execute, and Violet had to exercise all thepatience and self-control of which she was possessed, for during thenext few weeks there were several repetitions of willfulness andobstinacy on the part of her pupil, although she never held out so longagain and was more easily conquered each time. 

She finally seemed to realize that her governess meant just what shesaid--that sooner or later she must yield her the obedience which shedemanded; and after a while it became evident to Violet that she wasreally trying to conquer her antagonistic disposition, and was trulyanxious to please her. 

There were many struggles and many failures, for over-indulgence hadpampered her disposition and fostered a selfishness which was not easilymastered; but the strong will was now being bent in the right direction, and the fruits of firmness and decision were making themselves manifest;while, as Violet was always patient and gentle, tender in reproof, andsympathetic whenever Bertha manifested sorrow, the child gradually grewto love her almost to idolatry. 

Six months after the young teacher took up her abode in that eleganthome, one would hardly have recognized the docile, obedient child, andevery one in the house marveled at the change in her. 

Study grew delightful to her; she made rapid progress in her music, andbecame so gentle and courteous to the servants, so affectionate andcompanionable with her father, that she was like a sunbeam in the house. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

VIOLET MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 

Violet's life became more and more pleasant as time went on. Her pupilcontinued to make marked and steady progress in her studies, while inmusic she was becoming wonderfully proficient. She also grew morecheerful and equable in temperament, and Mr. Lawrence was constantlycongratulating himself upon having secured such a treasure for agoverness. 

He was not long in discovering, also, that she was a very cultivatedyoung woman and exceedingly companionable as well, for, while Violet wasconscientious in the discharge of her duties toward her charge, she didnot neglect any opportunity to improve herself. 

She took up a course of reading which could not fail to expand her mindand enlarge her views of life; kept herself informed regarding passingevents, while she devoted the greater portion of her evenings, afterBertha had retired, to music, both vocal and instrumental. 

No one who had known her in the old days in Cincinnati would havebelieved it possible that she could have changed in so short a time froma careless girl into this self-contained yet gracious woman, who charmedevery one with her sweet dignity, her beautiful face, and culturedconversation, and Mr. Lawrence was not slow to appreciate his goodfortune in having so lovely a woman in his home. 

"She would grace the highest position in the land, " he told himself, onenight, when, at his request, she had presided over his table at a selectdinner party, bearing herself with so much ease and grace, anddisplaying so much tact, that he was charmed and his guests eloquent intheir praises of her. 

From that time he began to show her, in a quiet way, numberless littleattentions. If he heard her express a desire, it was unostentatiouslygratified within twenty-four hours. If she mentioned a book or picture, it appeared as if by magic--the one among the collection upon Bertha'sshelves, the other somewhere upon the walls of her sitting-room, whileevery day the choicest of flowers found their way, by some unseenagency, to the little table which was devoted to Violet's especial use. 

Once or twice every week Mr. Lawrence would come home to luncheon, bringing opera or theater tickets for a matinee, and though Bertha andthe housekeeper were always included in these pleasures, for form'ssake, it was evident that the gentleman was most anxious to contributeto the enjoyment of the fair governess, for he always managed toascertain her preference, and in this way Violet had opportunity to hearthe best histrionic and musical talent. 

Every pleasant afternoon he would plan a drive or a visit to somepicture-gallery or museum of art for her and Bertha, who, notwithstanding her imperfect sight, enjoyed listening to a descriptionof the beautiful and interesting things about her, while it wassomething new and delightful to have her papa such a devoted andfaithful attendant. 

One day, for a change, they drove out to one of the reservoirs whichsupply New York city with water. 

Violet had been unusually happy all the week; her pleasant life, thekind care and attention so constantly thrown around her, all contributedto make the world seem a very delightful place once more, even thoughits chief joy and light for her had been removed. 

She and Bertha had been in an unusually gay mood for them, and Mr. Lawrence thought he had never seen Miss Huntington look so pretty andappear so charming. 

Her musical laugh, her ready repartee, her bright and animatedcountenance, amused and cheered him, making him feel younger by a scoreof years than he really was. 

They rode about the reservoir, over the broad smooth drives for a while, and then Bertha begged that they might get out and walk about, for shewanted to get nearer the water. 

Mr. Lawrence, always willing to indulge her, acceded to her request, andall three alighting, he told the coachman to drive slowly about until heshould signal for him. 

Then they spent half an hour or more strolling along the water's edge, to Bertha's great enjoyment, after which Violet expressed a wish to seethe inside of the gatehouse, for she had never had an opportunity tovisit one. 

They proceeded thither, it being quite near, and, Mr. Lawrence havingobtained permission of the keeper, they went in to view the huge vaults, together with the massive engine, by which the engineer controlled thewaters which swept with such ceaseless roar through the caverns belowand on toward their various channels in the city. 

They all became very much interested in watching the ponderousmachinery, and there was a strange fascination in the endless hurry andrush of the water beneath them. 

But all at once, nobody could ever tell afterward how it happened, Bertha made a misstep, and would have fallen beneath the railing and inamong the machinery had not Violet darted forward, seized her by herclothing, and drawn her quickly out of harm's way. In doing so, however, she herself fell, or was thrown, with great force against the railing, and when Mr. Lawrence led them both farther away, she was very pale andquivering from head to foot, from mingled pain and fright. 

"Are you hurt, Bertha?" she asked, bending over the weeping girl, whohad been terribly startled by the accident. 

"I guess not, but--oh! my heart beats so I cannot breathe, " she panted, in reply. 

"I am very glad--I--was--afraid----"

Violet could get no further, but reeled dizzily, and would have fallenif Mr. Lawrence had not sprung to her side, and, throwing his arm abouther slight form, asked, with great anxiety:

"What is it, Miss Huntington--are you hurt?"

"My arm, " Violet murmured, with white lips, and, glancing down, he sawthat her left arm was hanging helplessly by her side. 

"Ah! you must have hurt it when you fell against the railing, " he said, his face and tone both expressing great concern. Then he added: "Can youlift it? Can you move it?"

Violet made an effort to do so, but the pain it produced wasintolerable, and the next moment she was lying unconscious in Mr. Lawrence's arms. 

He laid her gently upon the floor, and took advantage of herinsensibility to make an examination of the injured member, when, to hisconsternation, he discovered that it was broken just above the elbow. 

Bidding Bertha stay close beside her teacher, he then darted out of thebuilding, and, his carriage fortunately being within hailing distance, he signaled for the coachman to come there. 

Without waiting for Violet to recover consciousness, he, with theassistance of one of the men who belonged in the gate-house, lifted herinto the carriage, placing her as comfortably as possible upon one ofthe seats, and then bade the coachman drive with all possible speed backto the city. 

Mr. Lawrence had saturated his handkerchief with water before starting, and now devoted himself to the task of reviving the insensible girl, bybathing her face, and chafing her uninjured hand to restore circulation. 

Violet soon began to come to herself, but only to experience intensesuffering, while her bruised and broken arm had begun to swellfrightfully. 

"This is very unfortunate--I am very sorry, " Mr. Lawrence said, deepsolicitude expressed in both tone and countenance, while Bertha satbeside him weeping silently from sympathy. 

Violet tried to bear her pain with fortitude. She made no outwarddemonstration or complaint; but her colorless face, contracted brow, andthe wild look in her eyes betrayed but too plainly that her sufferingwas excruciating. 

The fleet horses made good time, and in less than an hour they werehome. 

Violet was tenderly lifted from the carriage and borne to her own room, whither the housekeeper and servants were summoned to attend her, whileMr. Lawrence himself went for a surgeon. 

Mrs. Davis was a kind and motherly woman, and seemed to know just whatneeded to be done in this emergency. She cut away the sleeve of Violet'sdress and underclothing, thus releasing the wounded arm from its painfulbondage, and then wrapped it in wet cloths to reduce the swelling andallay the inflammation. 

Twenty minutes after a skillful surgeon was on the spot, ether wasadministered to his patient, then the broken bone was quickly and nicelyset, the arm bandaged, and Doctor Ashley declared that it would be asgood as new in the course of three or four weeks. 

When Violet came to herself again, the agonizing pain which she hadsuffered before the administration of ether was gone, and though she wasweak and feverish, she was comparatively comfortable. 

But the shock to her system had been severe, and she was obliged to keepher bed for several days, although she told Mrs. Davis and Bertha thatit was simply a pleasure to be sick when every one was so kind andattentive to her. 

Of course Mr. Lawrence did not see her during this time, and he began tobe conscious of an oppressive feeling of loneliness; the house seemedempty, desolate, without her. 

This sensation followed him everywhere he went; at table he could noteat as usual, while his glance constantly roved to Violet's empty chair. In his library, where usually he could find plenty of entertainment, andeven in Bertha's sitting-room, where he spent much time trying to amuseher, and to make up to her as much as possible for the loss of hercompanion, he was conscious of something wanting. 

"If I miss her like this for a few days, what shall I do if she evergoes away to stay?" he asked himself one evening, when he was feelingmore lonely than usual. 

A wave of hot color mounted to his brow; then receding as quickly, lefthis face blanched with a sudden discovery and an unaccountable feelingof dread. 

"What is all this?" he muttered, half angrily; "am I, after all theseyears, going to lose my head over a girl not half my age?"

He sprang to his feet and began to pace the floor with a nervous, uncertain tread, while during the next few days he appeared as ifoppressed by some heavy burden. 

Before a week had passed from the day of Violet's accident, she was upand anxious to resume her usual duties. 

Mr. Lawrence went up stairs, one morning, to Bertha's room to amuse thechild, as he had been doing of late, and found the young teacher sittingbeside her pupil at the piano, trying to direct her practice, and hisfine face at once assumed a look of undisguised disapproval, even thoughViolet glanced up and bade him a smiling good-morning. 

"My dear Miss Huntington, this will not do at all, " he said, gravely;"you are not to try your strength or take up your regular duties untilyour arm is entirely well, and you have fully recovered from the effectsof your injury. "

"But, I assure you, I am feeling nicely. If this left hand of mine wasonly at liberty, I should be wholly myself again, " Violet replied, bending a regretful look upon the helpless member in its sling. 

"That may be; but I am nevertheless going to prohibit all lessons, atleast until you can dispense with this, " the gentleman replied, as hesoftly touched the spotless handkerchief suspended about her neck. 

"What shall we do with ourselves, Bertha, if papa is going to be sotyrannical?" asked Violet, in a tone of mock despair, but bestowing atthe same time a grateful glance upon her patron for his consideration. 

"The days are very long, papa, when I don't attend to my lessons withMiss Huntington, " Bertha said, with a sigh; "but I love her so well thatI do not want her to do anything to make herself ill. "

"That is my good girl, " Mr. Lawrence replied, heartily; "but I imaginewe can arrange everything satisfactorily. Suppose we begin by seeingwhat we can do with the two hours between now and lunch-time, " and hedrew a new book from one of his pockets as he spoke; "I think I havesomething nice here for you both. "

He wheeled an easy-chair into the bay-window, where the sun shone inmost invitingly, and made Violet occupy it; then, with Bertha on ahassock at his feet, he began to read a recent and extremely interestingstory. 

The two hours slipped by on magic wings and then, as Mary appeared witha tray of tempting viands, Mr. Lawrence invited himself to lunch withthem, and they had a right merry time together as they ate. 

A little later he ordered the carriage, and they all went for a drive, returning just in time to prepare for dinner. 

Violet had not dined with the family since her injury, for, having onlyone hand at her command, she was sensitive about appearing awkward. Butto-day Mr. Lawrence particularly requested that she would favor themwith her presence again, if she felt able to come down. 

She flushed. 

"I am so helpless----" she began, when he interrupted her, saying, witha strange note in his voice, which she had never heard before:

"And for that very reason, I wish to make myself useful to you; besides, Bertha and I are very lonely without you. "

The color grew deeper upon Violet's cheek, for both his look and tonewere very earnest; but she promised to come down to dine with them, andthen ran up to her room to make some slight change in her attire. 

During dinner Mr. Lawrence was kindly attentive. He cut her meat forher, and unostentatiously prepared whatever would be awkward for her tomanage, talking all the while upon some entertaining subject, and madehimself so agreeable and helpful throughout the meal that Violet wasglad that she had consented to resume her place at the table. 

After that she came down every day, and grew quite used to having himcare for her, and found it very pleasant, too. 

"He is like a dear, kind father, only a great deal more thoughtful andattentive than most fathers would be, " she told herself, when thinkingit over afterward, and how he had interposed in every way to prevent herfrom feeling awkward in accepting his attentions. 

Mr. Lawrence kept his word--he would allow no more lessons while she wascrippled, but planned some amusement or pleasant trip for every day, until she was entirely well. 

Once she remonstrated against the idle life she was leading. 

"Mr. Lawrence, " she said, "I do not feel right about this. I ought to beat work--I am not earning my salt. "

"And why should you?" he asked, gravely. 

"But I came here to perform certain duties, and I am doing nothing butplaying--just drifting along, and having a pleasant time, " sheexplained. 

"I hope so; but I am very sorry if you feel any weight of obligation, when that should rest upon me, " he returned, in the same tone as before. "Miss Huntington, do you imagine that it is nothing to me that you savedmy child from some serious accident--perhaps from death? Do you think meso ungrateful as not to wish to do everything possible for you, when youhave suffered so much in your efforts to save her? I hope we shall hearno more about your earning your salt--that, and everything else, hasbeen already earned a good many times over, " he concluded, with aluminous smile. 

Violet had not thought of it in this way before, but she was effectuallysilenced, and objected no more at anything he chose to do for her. 

One rainy morning, they had an unusually merry time over a humorousstory which Mr. Lawrence read to them. 

"What a jolly time we are having, papa!" Bertha remarked, with along-drawn breath of content, when the story was concluded. 

"You are right, pet, and I only hope you will always be as happy, " herfather returned, fondly, as he stroked her glossy hair. 

"Of course, I am sorry that Miss Huntington's arm had to be broken, " thechild continued, naively, "but we have had such a delightful time duringthese last three weeks that I wish it could always last, don't you?"

"It would be very pleasant, Bertha, " said her father, musingly. 

"I think we three make just the nicest chums, " the little miss went on;"wouldn't it be fine if we could stay so and always be together?"

Mr. Lawrence's fine eyes were resting upon the fair face of his child'sgoverness at that moment, and there was a strangely wistful look inthem, a tender, tremulous expression about his handsome mouth, also. 

"It would, indeed, dear, " he said, more as if speaking to himself thanin answer to her, but in such an intensely earnest tone that it sent asudden thrill through Violet's heart. 

Involuntarily she lifted her eyes, met his look, and something in itmade the hot blood come surging up to her brow and lose itself amid thewaves of golden hair that lay in such pretty confusion there. 

"Don't you wish so, too, Miss Huntington?" Bertha questioned, turning toher, and all unconscious that she was treading upon delicate ground. 

Violet's eyes drooped, and she turned to the window to hide the vividcolor in her cheeks. 

She hesitated a moment before replying to the child's question, then shesaid, in a low, quiet voice:

"I have been very happy since I came to stay with you, dear. "

The further trials and experiences of Violet and how her futurehappiness was secured is told in the sequel to this story entitled "WithHeart So True, " and is published in handsome cloth binding uniform withthis volume. 

THE END. 

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