wful temptations of human souls. It is when the weak place is touched
as by a galvanic shock that in the glare of the light we see what might
be done, and yield, fearing that another walking over the same road
will pause and gather the price of some betrayal of honor, while we
look back with envy, the envy of the tempted, not the unassailable.

And because Violet St. Vincent sits there in another man's carriage,
this other man's wife, he feels that he has been defrauded of something
he might have won with the better side of his nature, which will never
be called out now. They will go on prospering; there is no further
reason why he should bend a wire, slip a cog, or delay the hurrying
wheels. Since Grandon has achieved all, then let them make money, money
for which he has little use.

Cecil gets tired, and Violet tells her a story. They are almost to the
end when the gentlemen come, but Cecil is exigeant, and the professor
politely insists. He is fond of even the fag-end of a story, so that it
turns out well; and then he will entertain the little miss. Violet
finishes with blushes that make her more charming every moment; and
Grandon finds a strange stirring in his soul as he watches this pretty
girl. He is glad she is his. Some time, when the cares of life press
less heavily, they two will take a holiday and learn to know each other
better than mere surface friends.

Herr Freilgrath certainly makes an unwonted interest in the great
house. He is so genial, he has that overflowing, tolerant nature
belonging to an ample frame and good digestion, he has inexhaustible
sympathy, and an unfailing love of nature. The two men settle
themselves to work in the tower room, and for hours are left
undisturbed, but the early evenings are devoted to social purposes.
Even Gertrude is compelled to join the circle, and Violet, whose tender
heart is brooding over the lost and slain love, is so glad to see her
roused a little.

Freilgrath discovers one day that Violet is a really admirable German
scholar. There are some translations to make, and she is so glad to be
of service. Cecil objects and pouts a little in her pretty child's
fashion. At this her father speaks sharply, and Violet turns, with the
same look she wore on her face the day of the accident. It is almost as
if she said, "You shall not scold her." Is he losing then the right in
his own child? And yet she looks so seductively daring that he smiles,
softens, and kisses Ceci