. In the first place,
it gave her pleasure. Harry was well-to-do in, the world. He would make
a good husband for Violet, and a kindly one. She liked him better than
she did Ernest. She had supposed Violet would marry one or other of the
boys, and, "just because things went at cross-grain in the world," she
had always supposed Violet would prefer Ernest. She had never liked him
herself. He was always spinning cobwebs in his brain; she never could
understand a word of his talk. She did not believe he would live, and
then Violet would be left a poor widow, as his mother had been left when
her Hermann died. She remembered all about that. Ernest's absence had
encouraged her with regard to Harry; but two years had passed, and it
seemed to her the two were no nearer an engagement.

But now it was settled; and if this foolish plan of Violet's going to
Italy had brought it about, the plan itself wore a different color.

Aunt Martha said no more of the impropriety. She reserved her
complainings for the subject of the trouble of getting Violet ready, all
of a sudden, for such a voyage.

Little trouble fell to Aunt Martha's share. Violet went about it gladly.
She advised directly with a friend who could tell her from experience
exactly how little she would want, while Harry completed all the
business arrangements. The activity, the adventure of it, suited
Violet's old tastes. She had no dread of a solitary voyage, of passing
through countries whose languages she could not speak. Though burdened
with anxiety for Ernest and for Harry, she went away with a glad heart.
Unconsciously to herself, she reversed her old exclamation, saying to
herself,--

"The men, indeed, should not have all the work, and the women all the
play!"

The journey was in fact easily accomplished. At another time Violet's
thoughts would have been occupied with the scenes she passed through.
Now she travelled as a devotee travels heavenward, making a monastery of
the world, and convent-walls out of rays from Paradise. She thought
only of the end of her journey; and everything touched her through the
throbbings of her heart. On shipboard, she was busy with the poor old
sick father whom his children were carrying home to his native land. In
passing through Paris, she used all her time in helping a sister to find
a brother; because her energy was always helpful. In travelling across
France, she looked at her companions, asking herself to what home they
were goi