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

"They will," Violet persisted, excitedly. "Belle said 'anything was fair in love and war,' and when she gets aroused, as she was last night, she stops at nothing. Then, too, she hinted at some secret, and I am greatly troubled 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 that you love me—that you will never regret the promise that you made me last 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, and that I am to lose you," she pleaded, almost hysterically.

"My darling," he answered, with gentle fondness, "you are all the world to me, and if I should lose you, I should lose all that makes life desirable; but I wish you to count the cost of your choice and not make enemies 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 pathetic little sob that went straight to her lover's heart.

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

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

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

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

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

They stood thus for another moment, then Wallace led her to a seat, and sitting down beside her, they conversed in repressed tones for some time longer.

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 sympathy instead of sour looks and words.

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

"I have one lesson more," said Violet.

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

Violet followed, with flushing cheeks and eyes that began to glitter ominously. Her spirit was leaping forth to meet the trial in store for her.

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

Violet thought a moment, then meeting her sister's eye with a steady glance, 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 house during our absence, and I could not think of leaving you behind."

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

"Who said anything about Montreal?" quickly demanded Mrs. Mencke, and regarding 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 not going 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 came down to get something that I had left in the library, and as I was passing 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 of the plan."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And she will aid and abet you in your love-making, perhaps you imagine," sneered Mrs. Mencke. "No, miss; you will go with us, whether you want to or not, and you will also go into a convent, where you will remain until you give me your solemn promise to relinquish all thoughts of 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 anywhere against my inclination," she said, with a resoluteness that betrayed an unalterable purpose. "I know that you and Will were appointed my guardians, 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 authority as you are attempting to exercise, and if you persist in this course—much as I shall dislike the notoriety of such a proceeding—I shall appeal to the courts to set you aside and appoint some one in your place. You said last night that it would be 'Roman against Roman' in this matter. You said truly; and hereafter, Belle, you will have to meet me in an entirely different spirit before you and I can ever be upon the old footing again. I hope, at least, that you now understand, once for all, that I shall not accompany you and Wilhelm upon any trip."

She turned and walked with quiet dignity from the room as she ceased speaking, leaving Mrs. Mencke looking both startled and confounded by the resolute and unexpected stand that she had taken regarding her guardianship.

"Where on earth can she have found out about that point of law?" she muttered, 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 as possible, as I have forgotten something and must go immediately to the city again," she commanded, as she rearranged her wrap.

In less than ten minutes she was on her way, not back to the city, but to 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 her name, was much the same type of a woman as Mrs. Mencke, but with the advantage of not possessing such an exceedingly high temper.

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

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

In the old days, when Mrs. Mencke had so offended against upper-tendom by eloping with the poor clerk in her father's employ, Mrs. Hawley had dropped her from her extensive list of acquaintances; but after Mr. Huntington's death, when the young couple came into possession of a handsome inheritance, the former friendship was renewed and their intimacy, 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 to pursue with Violet in her present unmanageable mood.

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

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

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

"Yes, I learned of your plans to-day through Mrs. Rider, and when Violet got upon her stilts, on my return from my calls, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps if the matter was rightly managed and you would not mind the care for a while, she would accept an invitation from you to travel in Europe for a time. I would appear to oppose it at first, but gradually yield to your persuasions, and, later, I would myself join you abroad 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 our terms."

Mrs. Hawley readily lent herself to this scheme.

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

"Do you think so?" Mrs. Mencke asked, somewhat doubtfully, for she began to stand a little in awe of her young sister's rapidly developing decision 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, and have visited each other a good deal since," returned Mrs. Mencke.

"Well, then, Mrs. Bailey came to me yesterday, asking if I would act as chaperon to Nellie, who has long wanted to spend a year in Milan to study music, and, as I readily granted her request, Miss Nellie will be my 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 to Nellie—that she did not wish to arouse hopes to disappoint them, until she could arrange for a proper escort for her," Mrs. Hawley explained. "But," she added, "she probably knows it by this time. However, I am going to call there this evening, to arrange our plans a little, and will come around to your house later. I will try to bring Nellie with me. She will be full of the trip, and doubtless express a wish that Violet could go with her; and I will second her wishes by at once inviting her to make one of our party. In this way we can bring it about without appearing to have thought of such a thing before."

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

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

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

"Oh, Vio!" exclaimed that elated young lady, after the first greetings were 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 all aglow.

"Going to Europe!" Violet repeated, with a look of dismay; for her heart sank 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 at Milan, and Mrs. Hawley, who is also going broad, has consented to take me 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 coming twelve months would seem all too short. "Of course I shall miss you dreadfully. I only wish you were going too. Wouldn't it be just delightful?"

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

Mrs. Mencke looked thoughtful, and not especially pleased by the proposition.

"You are very kind, Althea, to propose it, but Mr. Mencke and I had planned a trip to Canada for this month and next, and we intended to take 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 much difference whether you go to Europe or Canada, and Nellie would be very happy to have you for a chum," interposed Mrs. Hawley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I do not know," said Mrs. Mencke, contemplatively. "I suppose I should have to consult my husband—then there is the trouble of getting her ready."

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

"Say yes—do, Vio," pleaded Nellie; and then turning to Mrs. Mencke, she added: "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 hinder now."

"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 avoid all uncertainty."

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

She wanted to go, to get away from her brother and sister, but she shrank 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't get an opportunity to do so."

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

But Nellie lingered a little, and tried to coax her friend into yielding; she was very anxious to have her companionship upon the proposed trip.

Violet was firm, however, and said again that she would like very much to 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 not care very much whether Violet went or not.

Mr. Mencke came in a little later from his club, and she broached the plan to him before Violet. Of course it had all been talked over before between 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 say she does not like the idea of going to Canada with us, and as we are going 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 or the other. Which shall it be, Violet—Europe or Canada? We can't leave you 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 commit herself until she could consult Wallace.

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

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

The next morning Mrs. Mencke went up to Violet's room about nine o'clock and 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 you always 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, and so forth," her sister returned.

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

"Well, then, Vio, come to keep me company," Mrs. Mencke urged, trying to conceal 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 so absorbed 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 surging to her brow.

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

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

"She has dared to lock me up like a naughty, five-year-old child!" she cried, 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 this way to prevent it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taking a penknife from her pocket, she deliberately severed the heavy cord 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 the marble, while the top leaned against the wall.

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

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

Darting into her dressing-room, Violet seized the mirror, drew it to the very edge of the marble and assuming a strained position, she had the appearance of having caught the glass just as it was falling and in time to 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," the young girl cried, appealingly.

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

Then she went to see what was the matter.

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

"The cord has parted," panted Violet, as she glanced at the ragged ends where she had sawed it asunder with her dull knife. "You will have to help me," she added, "and I think we can manage to lift it to the floor without breaking it. I do not dare to leave it standing here; it might slip on the marble."

"No," said the girl, never suspecting any ruse to outwit her, "we must take 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 if wearied out by the exertion.

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

"No, not very long; but I am so glad that you came just as you did, for if 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 she did, because she was getting very anxious to go to Wallace and she would have been frightened if the glass had been broken.

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

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

But her kind little heart and tender conscience smote her for the strategy which she had employed to accomplish her purpose, and kneeling upon 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. The cord did not break; I cut it."

"Oh, Miss Violet, let me out; please, let me out," the girl cried, in distress. "Mrs. Mencke said she'd send me off without a reference if I didn't keep you safe till she came back, and I never dreamed you were playing 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 an important engagement down town. Belle had no business to treat me so like a child, and she shall not discharge you if I can help it. I will tell her just how I deceived you, and then, if she will not be reasonable, I will give you a month's wages and help you to another place."

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

"No, you will have to stay here a little while," she said, "but when I go down I will send the cook up to release you. When Belle comes home you can tell her that she will find me at Nellie Bailey's and that I shall 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 quietly left 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 with a mirror that has come down," she said; and then, without waiting for a reply, Violet sped out of the house, and, hailing the first car that came 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 of her friend, Nellie Bailey, her face glowing, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

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

"I have come to stay all night with you if you will let me," Violet replied, 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. But how 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 face dimpling with smiles, and Nellie immediately went into ecstasies over the announcement.

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

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

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

"I imagine that Belle would not consent to that," Violet returned. "She would be afraid that we two girls would get into mischief if left to ourselves. I suppose I shall travel with Mrs. Hawley, but I will try to pay 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, and the time passed quickly and pleasantly until the dinner hour, while during the meal the family were all so agreeable and entertaining—for Violet was a great favorite with them—that she forgot, for the time, the unpleasantness of the morning and her clear, happy laugh rang out with all her customary abandon.

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

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

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

The young girl frankly acknowledged the strategy she had employed, and exonerated Sarah from all blame; but she also firmly declared that if her sister would not promise to let her alone—if she persisted in the persecution of the last few days, she would reveal to Mr. and Mrs. Bailey all that had occurred, and implore their protection and assistance 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 that her young sister's spirit was too strong for her, and that she would do what she had threatened; therefore, she resolved not to antagonize her further 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," Violet indignantly affirmed, in concluding the recital of her morning's experience.

"Well, well, child, I did not know what else to do with you; but let it pass, please. Perhaps it was a mistake, and we will let by-gones be by-gones," Mrs. Mencke responded, in a conciliatory tone. "I am glad that you have decided in favor of the European trip, and I want you to go 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 to be 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 fear that 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 some things upon which you shall not trench. If there is to be peace between us you must let me entirely alone on one subject."

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

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

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

Mrs. Mencke endeavored, by every means in her power, to keep Violet under her own eye during this time, but once or twice the young girl managed to evade her vigilance. Whether she met Wallace or not she had no means of ascertaining, but she felt that she should be truly thankful and relieved of a heavy burden when the ocean divided them.

The day of sailing drew nigh and the voyagers, accompanied by several friends, repaired to New York, where they were to take a steamer belonging 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 advance and greet Violet with all the assurance of an accepted suitor; while the young girl herself, though her face lighted up joyously as she caught sight 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 New York on business, and he would arrange to be there at the time that she sailed.

If looks could have annihilated him, he would at once have vanished forever from the sight of men; but as he met Mrs. Mencke's angry glance he courteously lifted his hat and bowed, and then went on with his conversation 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 thanked the fates that Violet was going so far away, and she vowed that it would be a long while before she returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Indeed I shall, and I am promising myself a great deal of pleasure from our correspondence—more, in fact, than I have yet known, for our clandestine meetings have been very galling to me. I never like to do anything 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, your guardians, would have separated us if they could; but this faithful little heart could not be won from its allegiance; and, my darling, I am sure you will still be true to me, even though the ocean divides us."

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

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

"Yes, within five minutes," he replied. "And now, my heart's queen, no one can see us; therefore give me just one parting kiss, and that must be our farewell, for I cannot take leave of you before others."

He bent and gathered her quickly in his arms, straining her to his breast with a close, yearning clasp, and pressed his lips to hers in one lingering 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 toward where her friends were gathered.

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

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

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

"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 sped down to her state-room, where, half an hour later, Nellie Bailey found her sobbing hysterically.

"Why, you silly child!" she cried, assuming a light tone, although her own eyes were full and her voice tremulous, "this does not look as if you were very much elated over the prospect of going to Europe. Are all the tears for that handsome young man who appeared so loath to leave you? By the way, Violet, was that the Mr. Richardson who saved you at the 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 of him, is she?" Nellie inquired, with a light laugh and a mischievous glance at the averted face on the pillow in the berth, as she emphasized the pronoun. "Come," she added, presently, "let us lay out the things we are 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 enemy of all voyagers."

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

"I suppose we can control it, in a measure, by the exercise of will power," 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 than I."

The two girls soon had their small room in order, and everything handy for 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 eyes and the grieved droop about her sweet mouth, then set herself to divert her mind from the recent farewell, which she plainly saw had been a severe trial.

She was one of those remarkable women who can adapt themselves to all kinds of society and circumstances. She could be delightful in a drawing-room full of cultured people; she could entertain a group of children by the hour, while the young people pronounced her the most charming companion imaginable.

It was not long, therefore, before she made Violet entirely forget herself and her recent sadness, and the young girl soon found herself laughing heartily over some droll incident of which Mrs. Hawley had recently been the amused and appreciative observer.

They were standing in a group by themselves, and by degrees became so gay 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 of girls as I have ever seen. Do you suppose they are sisters?"

"No, I do not believe it; they have not a feature or characteristic in common, as far as I can see. That golden-haired one is a perfect little Hebe; her complexion and features are perfect, her figure faultless, while she has the daintiest hands and feet that I ever saw," said the first speaker.

"Really, Cameron, I believe you are hard hit, at last," laughed his companion. "I never knew you to express yourself so enthusiastically regarding a woman before."

"I never had occasion," returned Cameron, dryly. "We must manage some way to make the acquaintance of yonder party—eh, Henderson?"

Fate seemed anxious to give him the opportunity he desired, for, just at that moment, a gust of wind lifted Violet's jaunty hat from her head and sent it flying toward the two distinguished-looking strangers, and in another moment it would have been swept into the sea and lost beyond recovery.

But the one who had been called Cameron sprang forward, and, with a quick, agile movement, one sweep of his strong right arm, caught it just as it was going over the rail.

With a gratified smile on his handsome face, and an air of courtly politeness, 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 its brown 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 her cordial, outspoken way; "that was a leap worthy of an accomplished athlete."

"Thanks, madame," young Cameron returned, lifting his hat in acknowledgment of her praise.

Then he would have withdrawn himself from their presence, though he longed to stay, but Mr. Hawley, who had been attracted by his fine face and gentlemanly bearing, remarked:

"Since we are to be fellow-voyagers for a week or more, may I ask to whom 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 known as Vane Cameron. I am as yet connected with no firm, but my home has for many years been in New York."

"Cameron—Cameron," repeated Mrs. Hawley, meditatively. "I wonder if he can be a relative of that Anson Cameron who married the Earl of Sutherland's daughter about the time of our marriage. It created considerable talk among the grandees of New York, I remember, for the lady was very beautiful as well as of noble blood."

Mrs. Hawley's reflection were here cut short by her husband, who introduced her to the handsome young stranger, and then he proceeded to perform 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, a grandly developed form, a dignified bearing, and irreproachable manners.

He conversed in an easy, self-possessed manner with his new acquaintances for a few moments, and then craved permission to introduce his friend.

This request was cordially granted, and Mrs. Hawley ere long congratulated herself upon having secured a very pleasant addition to her 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 Cameron and the grandson of the late Earl of Sutherland, consequently the heir of the distinguished peer; and, more than that, she gleaned the interesting item that he was now on his way to England to take possession 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 aristocratic family who were numbered among the envied "four hundred" of New York.

"If I do not improve my opportunities during the next eight or nine days, it will be because my usual wit and ability fail me," the lady said to herself, after making these discoveries. "I have two pretty girls under my wing, and these young men are not backward in realizing the fact either. Violet, my pansy-eyed darling, I'll manage to make you forget that carpenter lover of yours long before your stipulated three months are at an end, or my name isn't Althea. I'd like nothing better than to write you among my list of friends as Countess of Sutherland; and Nellie, my modest little brunette, you would make a delightful little 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's party, and were so entertaining and attentive that they all congratulated themselves upon having secured so pleasant an addition to their company.

By the time they reached England Vane Cameron had surrendered his hitherto impregnable heart entirely to Violet, and when he bade Mrs. Hawley and her charges good-by, after seeing them comfortably established in the hotel where they were to remain during their sojourn in London, he asked the privilege of bringing his mother—who had preceded him to England by several months—to make their acquaintance.

This was an honor which Mrs. Hawley had hardly anticipated; she well knew the exclusive proclivities of British blue blood, and was highly elated by the prospect of being introduced into London society by Isabel, only child of the late Earl of Sutherland.

It is needless to state she graciously accorded the young man the privilege he asked, and delightfully looked forward to the promised visit.

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 no less attracted by the beauty and winning manner of Violet than young Cameron had been.

Mrs. Hawley made herself exceedingly agreeable by her courtesy and cultured self-possession, and before she left it was arranged that her ladyship would give a reception at an early date for the purpose of introducing her new acquaintances to London society.

After that there followed a whirl of pleasure and excitement such as Violet 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 select circles that the son was likely to follow the example of his mother by marrying a wealthy American.

Mrs. Hawley's reports to Mrs. Mencke of all this were highly satisfactory, and the worldly minded sister congratulated herself that she had sent Violet abroad instead of insisting upon her going to Canada.

She had neither seen nor heard anything of young Richardson since Violet's departure, although Mr. Mencke had tried to post himself regarding his movements. All he could learn, however, was that he had left Cincinnati a few weeks after Violet sailed, but no one could tell him whither he had gone.

This was something of a relief, although the Menckes would have been glad to keep track of him, for a dim suspicion that he might have followed Violet haunted them.

The young girl expected to hear from her lover soon after reaching London, but three weeks went by, and not one line had she received. She was getting very anxious and impatient, but of course she did not dare to betray anything of the feeling, and so strove to bear her disappointment with as bold a front as possible.

She, however, faithfully wrote to Wallace every two or three days, and in each letter mentioned the fact that she had not heard from him, and begged him not to keep her longer in suspense.

She imagined that she exercised great care in sending her letters so that Mrs. Hawley would not suspect the correspondence, for she went down to the hotel letter-box to post every one with her own hands.

But Mrs. Hawley had received orders from Mrs. Mencke to intercept all such missives, and she, in turn, gave instructions to the hotel clerk that all epistles addressed to "Wallace Richardson, Cincinnati, Ohio," be returned to her.

Thus the lovers never heard one word from each other—though, to the woman's credit be it said, if there was any credit due her—she conscientiously burned every letter, unopened, for she was secretly very fond of Violet and could not bring herself to wrong her still further by perusing the sacred expressions of her loving little heart, or the fond words which Wallace intended only for her eye.

But Violet, though anxious, could not find much time to indulge her grief, for she was kept in such a constant round of excitement. Several times Nellie awoke in the night to find her weeping, but, upon inquiring the cause of her tears, Violet would either avoid a direct reply, or allow 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 they did not betray the fact in their greeting, and Violet, though she met her sister affectionately, was at heart very much annoyed by her arrival.

Mrs. Mencke and Mrs. Hawley improved the first opportunity to have a long, confidential talk upon all that had occurred during the period of their separation, and the former was fairly jubilant over her friend's account of the Earl of Sutherland's attentions to Violet.

"An English earl!" she exclaimed, with a glowing face. "That is positively bewildering! And you think that Violet likes him?"

"She cannot help liking him," responded Mrs. Hawley; "for he has a way that is perfectly irresistible. As I wrote to you, he is a good deal older than she is, and he possesses a quiet dignity, and a certain masterful manner that carries everything before it."

"If he will only prove himself masterful enough to conquer Violet's will and make her marry him, I shall be too proud and thankful to contain myself," said Mrs. Mencke, earnestly.

"It is very evident that he intends to do so if he can," returned her friend, "and we must leave no opportunity unimproved to help him in his wooing. We must keep Violet so busy with engagements that she will have no time to think about her carpenter lover."

Two more weeks passed, and still Violet did not hear from Wallace, and the 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 becoming wearisome to her.

There was still a ceaseless round of pleasure, receptions, parties, opera, and theatre, and everywhere the party was attended by two young gentlemen who had become so deeply enamored of the beautiful American girls.

Violet tried her best to resist the force of the stream that seemed to be hurrying her on whither she would not go, but without avail; for Vane Cameron was always at her side, and everybody appeared to take it for granted that he had a right to be there, while it became evident to Violet that he was only waiting for a favorable opportunity to declare himself her lover.

What she dreaded came at last.

They all attended the opera one evening, and a brilliant appearance they made as they sat in one of the proscenium boxes. But Violet did not enjoy the performance, and could not follow it; her thoughts would go back to that fateful day when her life was saved by the coolness and determination of Wallace Richardson. From that moment her soul had seemed 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 was scarcely less colorless than herself.

Lord Cameron thought he had never seen her so lovely, but he realized that something was not quite right with her, and, though he had received Mrs. Mencke's permission to speak when he would, he resolved not to trouble her that night with any expression of his affection.

After their return to the hotel, Mrs. Mencke followed Violet to her room, pride and triumph written upon every line of her face.

"Have you anything to tell me, Violet?" she asked, a tremulous eagerness in her tones.

"No; what could you imagine that I should have to tell you?" the young girl 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—anything happened?"

"No, I am not sick," Violet answered, with a heavy sigh; "and what could happen that you would not know about?"

"I know what I wish would happen," returned her sister, eagerly, "and what 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 just exquisite, and it cost a heap of money, too; but that counts for nothing in comparison with the conquest you have made."

Violet could not fail to understand what all this meant. She flushed hotly, 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 have captured a prize—that the Earl of Sutherland is ready and waiting to offer you a name and position such as does not fall to the lot of one girl in ten thousand."

"Nonsense, Belle! I wish you would not talk so to me about Lord Cameron," Violet petulantly exclaimed.

"It is not nonsense, child, for Vane Cameron has formally proposed for your hand in marriage—has asked Will's and my consent to win you if he can."

"Belle!"

Violet turned upon her sister, crimson to the roots of her hair, blank dismay 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 am proud 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 unqualified consent to his lordship's proposal," she cried, actually trembling from excitement.

"Belle, you have not dared to do such a thing! You know that I am promised to another," the young girl cried with blazing eyes.

A queer look shot over Mrs. Mencke's face at this reply, and she opened her lips as if to make one sharp, unguarded retort. Then she suddenly checked herself, and, after a moment, remarked, in a repressed tone:

"You know well enough that that foolish escapade of yours counts for nothing, and that young Richardson has no right to hold you bound by any promise you may have impulsively given him from a feeling of gratitude."

"I hold myself bound, nevertheless," Violet returned, with tremulous lips, "and not from any feeling of gratitude either; but because I love him with all my heart."

"You shall never marry him," retorted her sister, angrily. "Are you mad to think of throwing away such a chance as this for a low-born fellow like that? It is not to be thought of for one moment; and, Violet, you shall marry Vane Cameron.

"Take care, Belle, you are going a little too far now," Violet cried, a dangerous 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 the snowy 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 Vane Cameron think of me for granting him the permission he craved? It was equivalent to admitting that he would find no obstacle in his path. What could 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 to reconsider your folly; I will intimate to Lord Cameron that you are a little shy of the subject—that it will be just as well for him not to speak for perhaps a couple of weeks; but—hear me, Violet—if you refuse to come to my terms at the end of that time, I will take you to France and shut you up in a convent, where you shall stay until you will solemnly promise me that you will give up your miserable Yankee lover."

She turned and abruptly left the room without giving Violet a chance to reply.

Violet stood still a moment, looking wretched enough to break one's heart; then throwing herself upon her bed, she gave way to a passion of tears and sobbing.

"Oh, Wallace, where are you?" she moaned, "why don't you write to me? I feel as if I was being led into a trap, and"—with a sudden light seeming to burst upon her—"I believe they have been intercepting our letters, for I know that you would be faithful to me. Oh, I am homesick for you, and now that Belle and Will have come I know they will not let me go back at the end of three months. What shall I do? Of course I cannot marry Lord Cameron, and I shall tell him the truth if he asks me."

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 her beautiful evening dress for a wrapper, and then wrote a long letter to Wallace, telling him all about her perplexity and suspicions, begging him to send her some news of himself and to address his letter to Nellie.

Not having received any of his letters, she of course did not know that he had removed from Cincinnati; therefore she directed her letter as usual, and, of course, he never got it; although she slyly posted it in the letter-box on one of the public buildings of the city while she was out sight-seeing the next day.

At the end of a week Mrs. Mencke sought Violet and renewed the subject of Vane Cameron's proposal.

"I wish you would let me alone about that, Belle," the young girl responded, wearily. "It is useless for you to try to change my decision—my word is pledged to Wallace, and only death will ever release 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 as hard as adamant.

"Yes."

"Then you oblige me to communicate a fact which, for several reasons, I should have preferred to withhold from you," said Mrs. Mencke, bending a strange 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 the beautiful girl before her, as she seemed instinctively to know what was printed here.

"Read," commanded Mrs. Mencke, relentlessly.

With hands that shook like leaves in the wind, Violet picked up the paper. It was the Cincinnati Times-Star, and she read with a look of horror 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 lay stretched senseless at her sister's feet.

"Heavens! I did not think she would take it to heart like this," cried the now thoroughly frightened woman, as she threw herself upon her knees beside the motionless girl and began to loosen her clothing and chafe her 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 of it.

They assisted in getting Violet to bed, and a physician was immediately sent for.

"She has had some sudden and violent shock," he said at once, while he regarded Mrs. Mencke searchingly.

"Yes," she confessed, with as much composure as her guilty conscience would allow her to assume; "she read an account of the death of a—a friend, in an American paper."

"Hem!" was the medical man's brief comment, as he again turned his attention to his patient, whom, it was evident, he considered to be in a critical state.

It was long before he could restore suspended animation, and even then Violet did not come back to consciousness; fever followed, and she began to rave in the wildest delirium.

"It's going to be a neck-and-neck race between life and death," the doctor 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 at her work, after which she returned to London to assist Mrs. Mencke in the care of her sister.

It was more than a month before Violet was pronounced out of danger; and then, as soon as she was able to sit up, the physician advised a change of 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 life she had, and Mrs. Mencke, who still secretly clung to the hope of affecting an alliance between her and Lord Cameron, was anxious to do everything to build her up; consequently she immediately posted off with her invalid to that far-famed resort. She had a private interview first, however, with his lordship, from whom the real cause of Violet's illness had been kept a profound secret, and promised to send for him just as soon as her sister was able to see him.

The mild and genial atmosphere of Mentone produced a favorable change in the invalid immediately. Her appetite improved, and with it strength and something of her natural color.

But the child was pitifully sad—heart-broken. Nothing appeared to interest her, and she seemed to live from day to day only because nature was stronger than her grief.

She never spoke of Wallace, nor referred to the fact that her illness had been caused by the dreadful tidings of his death. She was patient, gentle, and submissive, doing whatever she was told to do, simply because it was easier than to resist, and, as she slowly but surely gained, Mrs. Mencke told herself that the way was clear to the consummation 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 of Sutherland, something of her old spirit manifested itself for the first time since her illness.

"Did you send for him, Belle?" she demanded, an ominous flash leaping into her heavy eyes.

The woman colored. She did not like to confess that she had done so, but such was the fact, nevertheless.

"Why, Violet, you forget how anxious Lord Cameron would naturally be regarding the state of your health," she answered, evasively; "besides, he has waited a long time for the answer to a certain proposal, and doubtless he is impatient for that."

"He shall have it," the young girl returned, with sudden animation, a crimson 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, almost in tears. "Just think what your life must be! One of the highest positions in England is offered you by a young man of irreproachable character; he loves you devotedly, and there is nothing he would not do for you if you consent to become his wife. Besides a large income which he 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 no earthly reason now, whatever there may have been two months ago, why you should not listen to his suit."

Violet shivered with sudden pain as her sister thus referred to the death of her lover, and the fact that no plighted troth now stood in the way of her accepting Lord Cameron's proposal of marriage.

"No," she wailed, "I suppose there is no reason, save that I do not love him—that my heart is dead, and I have no interest in life, no desire to live."

"You may imagine now that you can never love him, but time heals all wounds," her sister returned; "and since you can now feel that you will wrong no one else by marrying him, you might at least devote yourself to him and secure his happiness by accepting him."

"Do you imagine that he would be willing to marry a loveless woman—one who had no heart to give him?" Violet questioned, with curling lips.

"He only can answer that question himself," responded Mrs. Mencke, with a sudden heart-bound, as she thought she saw signs of yielding in her sister. "Oh, Violet, do not throw away such a chance. What are you going to do in the future? How do you expect to spend the rest of your life if you refuse to marry at all?"

A thrill of intense agony ran through the young girl's frame at these probing questions.

How indeed was she to spend her life? How could she live without Wallace?

She had not thought of this before, and she was startled and appalled by the apparent blackness of the future.

"Oh, I don't know—I don't know!" she burst forth, in a voice of despair.