rites very happily now. He is succeeding; he has an order
for his statue. He writes and thinks of nothing else but what he will
create,--of the ideas that have been waiting for an expression. I am a
carpenter still, I shall never be more, and my work will always be less
and lower than my love. Could you be satisfied with him? He has attained
now, Ernest has, what he was looking for; and have I not a right to my
reward?"

The tears tumbled from Violet's eyes.

"Dear, noble Harry! I am not ready for you yet. I do believe he is above
us both, and satisfied to be above us both; but I am not ready yet."

A day or two afterwards, Harry brought Violet a letter from Italy. It
was from an artist friend of Ernest's, whose wife and mother had kindly
received him into their home. Carlo wrote now that Ernest had been taken
very ill. They thought him recovering, but he was still very low, and
his mind depressed, and he continued scarcely conscious of those around
him. He talked wildly, and begged that his home friends would come to
him; and though his new Italian friends promised him all that kindness
could give, Carlo wrote to ask if it were not possible for his brother
or his mother to come out. He had been working very hard, was just
finishing an order that had occupied him the last year, and he had
overtasked his mind as well as his body.

"You will go to him!" exclaimed Violet, when she had read the letter.

"If nothing better can be done," answered Harry. "Only yesterday I made
a contract for work with a hard master. It would be difficult to break
it; but I will do it gladly, if there is nothing better to be done."

"You mean that you would like to have me go to Ernest," said Violet.

"Will you go?" asked Harry. "That will be the very best thing."

Aunt Martha broke in here. She had been sitting quietly at the other
side of the table, as usual, apparently engrossed with her knitting.

"You do not mean to send Violet to Italy, and to take care of Ernest?"
she exclaimed. "What are you thinking of? I would never consent to
Violet's going alone; it would not be proper."

Violet grew crimson at the reproof. She was standing beneath the light,
and turned away her head.

"Not if I were Harry's betrothed?" she asked.

Aunt Martha looked up quickly. She saw the glad, relieved expression of
Harry's face.

"If you are engaged to Harry, that is different, indeed!" she said.

It did make a difference in Aunt Martha's thoughts