you were to waltz with me?"

"Oh," he rejoins, in a kind of hurt tone, "you really do not suppose I
would tell you a falsehood in this matter! I really do want to waltz
with you, but I shouldn't descend to any such smallness as that."

She is touched by his air and disappointment.

"Well," she answers, reluctantly.

Just then madame floats by them. Violet rises, and they go gracefully
down in the widening circles. Eugene waltzes to perfection. A few young
girls look on with envious eyes, and something about Lucia Brade's face
appeals to Violet. She _does_ carry her heart on her sleeve, and has
always been fond of Eugene Grandon.

"Let us stop," entreats Violet.

"Why, we were just going so perfectly! It was like a dream. How
beautifully you do waltz! What is the matter?"

All this is uttered in a breath.

"I want you to go waltz with Miss Brade," says Violet. "She looks so
lonely talking to that old Mr. Carpenter."

"Nonsense." And he tries to swing her into line.

"No; I do not feel as if I had any business with the young men," says
Violet, rather promptly, standing her ground with resolution.

"See here," exclaims Eugene, suddenly, "if I waltz with her, will you
give me another somewhere? If you won't, I shall not dance another step
to-night," and he shakes his black curls defiantly.

That means he will keep close to her as a shadow, and she wishes he
would not.

"Yes," she answers, "if you will do your duty you shall be rewarded."

"Be good and you will be happy," he quotes.

"Take _me_ over to Mr. Carpenter."

"He will prose you to death. See, there is Mrs. Carpenter waltzing with
Fred Kirkbride. That is the way young and pretty second wives enjoy
themselves," says this candid young man.

Lucia Brade goes off supremely happy. Violet watches them from her
rustic seat. She has been a little amazed at Lucia's evident
preference, so plainly shown. Mr. Carpenter only needs a listener to
render him supremely happy in his monologues, so Violet can follow her
own thoughts.

She is wondering why she feels so lost and lonely in this bright scene,
and why the waltz did not enchant her! Where is Mr. Grandon--drowsing
in a railway car? If he were here! The very thought thrills her. Yes,
it _is_ her husband she misses,--not quite as she used to miss him,
either. He has grown so much more to her, he fills all the spaces of
her life. He may be absent bodily, but he is in her soul, he has
possession of her ver