t the
cottage, so Floyd goes home to arrange matters for the advent of
Violet.

His mother has settled to a mood of sullen indignation. Why could not
Floyd have become guardian for this girl, and between them all they
might have brought about a marriage with Eugene, who needs the fortune?
If the patent should prove a success, the interest of these two young
people would become identical. Floyd has made himself his brother's
greatest rival, instead of best friend. Through Violet he has a
quarter-share of the business and control of the patent. She is sure
this must have been the deciding weight in the scale, for he is not
romantic, and not easily caught by woman's wiles. She understands
self-interest, but a generous denial of self for another person is
quite beyond her appreciation.

Yet she knows in her secret heart that if Floyd gave up, they would go
to ruin, and Wilmarth would be possessor of all. She does not fly out
in a temper now, but makes the interview unpleasant to her son, though
she is really afraid to confess her true view of the matter, little
imagining how soon he could have resolved her doubts. She hints at
other steps which might have been taken, and he supposes it refers to
his marriage with Madame Lepelletier. Tired at length of skirmishing
about with no decisive result, Floyd boldly makes a proposal. It is
best perhaps that he should be master in his own house, since of course
he must provide for all expenses. The furniture he would like to keep
as it is, if his mother chooses to sell it to him, and the money would
be better for her. He would like her to remain and take charge, since
Violet is so young, and he wants her to feel that her home is always
here, that he considers her and his sisters a part of the heritage
bequeathed by his father, and that independent of the business he shall
have enough for all. "Do not forget," he cries, "that I am your son!"

He is her son, but she would like to be entirely independent. The most
bitter thing, she tells herself, is to ask favors of children. And yet
she cannot say that Floyd has taken the family substance; he has cost
his father nothing since early boyhood. They have had his beautiful
house, and since his return he has spent his own money freely. She
wishes, or thinks she does, that she could pay back every penny of it,
and yet she is not willing to give of that which costs her
nothing,--tenderness, appreciation. She takes because she must, and
nurs