hield her from trouble and
perplexity. She remembers his grave, fatherly conduct through all that
time; his tenderness was not that of a lover, his consideration sprang
from pity. Yet why was she satisfied then and so crushed now?

Ah! she has eaten of the tree of knowledge; she has grown wise in
love's lore. She has been dreaming that she has had the love, when it
is only a semblance, a counterfeit; not a base one, but still it has
not the genuine ring. He did not esteem her so much at first but that
he could offer her to another, and therein lies the bitter sting to
her. It is not because Eugene cared so little. How could he regard a
stranger he had not seen, if he who had seen her did not care, whose
kindness was so tinctured with indifference? Even if he had wanted her
fortune, she thinks she could forgive it more easily.

She sends word down-stairs presently that there need be no lunch, but
she will have a cup of tea. She throws herself on the bed and shivers
as if it were midwinter. To-night, why even now, he is on his way home;
to-morrow morning she ought to give him a glad welcome. She will be
glad, but not with the light-hearted joy of yesterday; that can never
be hers again. It seems as if she had been tramping along the
sea-shore, gathering at intervals choice pearls for a gift, and now,
when she has them, no friend stands with outstretched hands to take,
and all her labor has been vain. She is so tired, so tired! Her little
hands drop down heavily and the pearls fall out, that is all.

She does not go over to the cottage until quite late, and walks
hurriedly, that it may bring some color to her pale cheeks. Cecil and
Elsie Latimer have come to meet her, and upbraid her for being so
tardy. They have swung in the hammock, they have run and danced and
played, and now Denise has the most magnificent supper on the great
porch outside the kitchen door. But if _she_ could have danced and
ran and played with them!

Mrs. Latimer has a cordial welcome, and Eugene makes his appearance. To
do the young man justice, he is utterly fascinating to the small host.
Violet watches him with a curiously grateful emotion. There is nothing
for her to do, he does it all.

"You are in a new character to-night," declares Mrs. Latimer. "It never
seemed to me that entertaining children was your forte."

"I think you have all undervalued me," he answers, with plaintive
audacity, while a merry light shines in his dark eyes. He _is_