ugene. With all her watching she cannot detect any especial
fondness on the part of pretty Mrs. Floyd.

Violet is oddly consequential as a chaperone. She has never taken such
warm interest in pleasures, and it becomes her youth and vivacity. She
is bright and charming, with a touch of authority here and there that
renders her quite bewitching.

Yet she has been thinking all this time of her own lot. Had she been
alone she would no doubt have brooded over it despondently; but Miss
Murray's almost volatile nature kindles the philosophy of hers. She
knows now that Floyd Grandon did not marry her for love, that he did
not even profess to, and that in most marriages there is at least a
profession of love at the beginning, and it is very sweet. Even such
half-jesting love as these two young people make unblushingly before
her face, in the naughty audacity of youth, is delightful. Mr. Grandon
could never do or say such things; he is too grave and sensible.

The house and lawn are lighted up again. There are elegant young men
and diaphanous fairies; there is music and dancing; there is nectar and
ambrosia and general satisfaction. Violet is too busy to dance,
although if she had but known her husband was foolish enough to long to
try the seductive atmosphere with her, she would not have been so
resolute. Everybody looks happy and content.

"Polly," Mr. Murray says, the next morning, at the late breakfast, "we
must be considering our departure. I shall have to go to New York. What
part of the earth will it be your pleasure to visit next?"

"Oh," ejaculates Miss Murray, with a regretful emphasis, "the mail has
not come in yet?"

"It has not come down. Briggs will be here presently with all personal
matters."

Even as he speaks, the supple young fellow, with his well-trained
deference, comes in with a budget of letters.

"Hillo!" exclaims Murray, glancing up. "Why, Haviland will be back in
about a fortnight! See here, Grandon, can you run out to Chicago with
me? The word is favorable, I must go to the city to-day, Polly."

"Why not let Miss Murray remain here, if she is not homesick?" says
Grandon.

Pauline Murray's eyes light up with an expression quite the reverse of
homesickness.

"I am afraid we shall trespass on a most generous hospitality."

Violet seconds her husband's request. They were to take in Long Branch
as they went down, but it will be out of season now, and Pauline must
go to her aunt at Baltimore or