ep.

Violet and her visitor softly withdrew from the cradle, and Corona had
leisure to look around the lovely room, the carpet of tender green, like
the first spring grass, and dotted over with buttercups and daisies; the
wall paper of pearl white, with a vine of red and white roses running
over it; the furniture of curled maple, upholstered in fine chintz, in
colors to match the wall paper. But the window curtains were the marvels
of the apartment. There were two high front windows, draped in rainbow
silk--that is, each breadth of the hangings was in perfect rainbow
stripes, and the effect of the light streaming through them was soft,
bright, and very beautiful.

"It is a creation! Whose?" inquired Corona, as she stood before one of
the windows.

"Well, it was my idea, though I am not at all noted for ideas, as
everybody knows," said Violet, with a smile. "But I wanted my baby's
first impressions of life to be serenely delightful through every sense.
I wanted her to see, when she should open her eyes in the morning, a
sphere of soft light and bright, delicate shades of color. So I prepared
this room."

"But where did you find the rainbow draperies?"

"Oh, them! I designed them for my baby, and Fabian sent the pattern to
Paris, and we received the goods in due time. I will tell you another
thing. I have an AEolian harp for her. It is under the front window of
the upper hall, but its aerial music can reach her here when it is in
place. When she is a little stronger I am going to have a music box for
her. Oh, I want my little baby to live in a sphere of 'sweet sights,
sweet sounds, soft touches.'"

A brisk, firm footstep, a cheery, ringing voice in the hall below,
arrested the conversation of the two women.

"It is Fabian! Come!" exclaimed Violet, joyfully, leading the way down
stairs.

Mr. Fabian stood at the foot. He embraced his young wife boisterously,
and then seeing Cora coming down stairs behind Violet, went and shook
hands with his niece, saying:

"Glad to see you! Glad to see you! Has Violet been showing you our
little goddess? I tell you what, Cora: everything has changed since that
usurper came. This place is no longer 'Violet Banks' It is the Holy
Hill. This house is the temple; that nursery is the sanctuary; that
cradle is the altar; and that babe is the idol of the community. Now go
along with Violet. Oh! she is high priestess to the idol. Go along. I'm
going to wash my face and hands, and then I