es to hunt up Marcia's property, and is tempted to hand it over to
her and never trouble his head about it again. But that will not be the
part of prudence, any more than trusting their all to Eugene. Having
accepted the burthen, he must not lay it down at any chance
resting-place. So he hands it to her quietly at luncheon, and that
evening listens courteously to his mother's plans, offering no
objection.

"But he did not evince the slightest interest," she declares to Marcia.
"And you will see that every possible obstacle will be put in the way."

"And he can spend his money upon pony carriages for her!" retorts
Marcia, spitefully.

The pony carriage is indeed a grievance, and when Floyd teaches his
wife to ride, as her pony is accustomed to the saddle, the cup brims
over. He has announced the visitors to her, and she dreads, yet is most
anxious to see Madame Lepelletier.

"Was not this room hers when she was here in the summer?" asks Violet,
standing by the window.

"Yes," answers her husband, but he makes no further comment. It looks
like crowding Violet out, and he is not sure he wants that. He will
have her treated with the utmost respect during this visit, and it will
prove an opportunity to establish her in her proper standing as his
wife.

It all comes about quite differently. Violet is at the cottage, and has
gone up to take a look at papa's room and put some flowers on the
table. All is so lovely and peaceful. There is no place in the world
like it, for it is not the chamber of death, but rather that of
resurrection.

"Violet," calls her husband.

She turns to run down the stairs. It is a trifle dark, and how it
happens she cannot tell, but she lands on the floor almost at her
husband's feet, and one sharp little cry is all.

He picks her up and carries her to the kitchen, laying her on Denise's
cane-seat settee, where she shudders and opens her eyes, then faints
again.

"I wonder if any bones are broken!" And while Denise is bathing her
forehead, he tries her arms, which are safe. Then as he takes one small
foot in his hand she utters a piercing exclamation of pain. Prof.
Freilgrath is away; there is nothing but for Floyd to go for a
physician. He looks lingeringly, tenderly at the sweet child face, and
kisses the cold lips. Yes, she _is_ very dear to him.

He brings back the doctor speedily. One ankle is badly sprained, and
there seems a wrench of some kind in her back. She must be undressed