gray beard,
that give him a military air. A little color comes into her face, and
Grandon remarks nothing amiss; indeed, she looks very pretty and
interesting, as she sits talking of her father.

"Where is Eugene?" he asks presently, as he sees Mr. Murray and his
daughter walking in the grounds.

It seems to Violet as if she must scream. Is _she_ his brother's
keeper? Oh, what if--and it seems as if she must faint dead away at the
horrible suspicion that he may never come back. No wonder her voice is
tremulous. But even as she gasps for breath Eugene appears around the
winding walk, and she is reprieved.

"What is the matter?" Floyd Grandon asks, startled by all these
changes.

"My head aches."

"I thought Mrs. Grandon looked pale," says Mr. Haviland.

Miss Murray has caught sight of Eugene and waves a square of lace sewn
around a centre of puzzling monogram. He has been desperate, moody,
savage, and repentant by turns. He has meant to kneel at Violet's feet
and confess his sins, and never love any other woman while the breath
of life is in his handsome body. But the first is utterly
impracticable, and after having been Miss Murray's devoted cavalier he
cannot snub her in the face of all these eyes. He waves his hand and
turns toward them, feeling that Violet is watching him and positively
impelling him to this step; so he goes on and on to meet his fate. The
cordial greeting of Mr. Murray, who thinks none the worse of him for
his outburst of the morning, in a few words restores the easy footing
of yesterday. Pauline smiles with winning tenderness; it does almost
seem as if he was being crowded out of his rights, and there is enough
to make amends. He sees it all; what does it matter? One never comes up
to any high ideals, and ideals are for the most part tiresome,
unattainable.

When the first bell rings they saunter up the path, Miss Murray on
Eugene's arm. Her eyes have a kind of exultant softness; she has
misread the pain and pallor of his face and her power of bringing back
its warm, joyous tints, but ignorance is bliss. Violet looks up and
meets the dark, questioning eyes, with their half-resolve, and Floyd
Grandon intercepts it all. Why does she turn so deadly pale?

He says something about making ready for dinner, and they all go
up-stairs, leaving her with Cecil. She has that curious, transfixed
feeling, as though when she moved she was in a dream. Floyd Grandon has
seen her sad, shy, quiet, gay, jo