he knows no more about than she. Her innocent sweetness
grows upon him daily; he is glad, yes, really glad that he has married
her.

When she does finally return home she is chilled again by the contrast.
Marcia has gone to Philadelphia; Mrs. Grandon is cold to a point of
severity, and most untender to Cecil. Her surprise is a beautiful new
piano, for Laura's has gone to the city. She begins at once with
Cecil's lessons, and this engrosses her to some extent. Cecil is quick
and rapturously fond of music, "real music" as she calls it, but scales
and exercises are simply horrible. Gertrude comes in now and then,
oddly enough, and insists that it rather amuses her. She sits with her
in the evenings when Floyd is away, and often accompanies her in a
drive. Violet does not imagine there is any ulterior motive in all
this, but Gertrude is really desirous of helping to keep the peace.
When she is present Mrs. Grandon is not so scornful or so aggressive.
Gertrude does not want hard or stinging words uttered that might stir
up resentment. If Violet cannot love, at least let her respect. It will
be an old story presently, and the mother will feel less bitter about
it.

It is such a strange thing for Gertrude to think of any one beside
herself that her heart warms curiously, seems to come out of her
everlasting novels and takes an interest in humanity, in nature, to go
back to the dreams of her lost youth. Violet is so sweet, so tender! If
she had known any such girl friend then, but she and Marcia never have
been real friends. There is another delicate thought in Gertrude's
soul. Laura and her mother have sneered about the professor, with whom
they are all charmed, nevertheless; and she means that no evil tongue
shall say with truth that Violet is alone too much with him or lays
herself out to attract him. She furbishes up her old knowledge and
talks with them, she reads the books he has recommended to Violet, and
they discuss them together until it appears as if she were the
interested one. She nearly always goes with her to the cottage.
Sometimes she wonders why she does all this when it is such a bore. Why
should she care about Violet particularly? But when the soft arms are
clasped round her neck and the sweet, fragrant lips throb with tender
kisses, she wakes to a sad and secret knowledge of wasted years.

To Violet there comes one crowning glory, that is the promised
_matinee_. Miss Neilson is to play _Juliet_, and thoug