at you
need--that have been overlooked--for--to-morrow?" he asked, wistfully,
his voice dropping to a tender cadence at that last word, as he realized
how nearly the one great desire of his heart was within his grasp.

Was it his imagination, or did a shiver of repulsion run over Violet's
frame at this reference to their wedding-day?

She was as white as the fleecy shawl that was thrown about her
shoulders, and there was a pathetic droop about her lovely mouth that
pained him exceedingly.

"No, thank you," she quietly replied; "Belle has attended to
everything."

He arose, feeling disappointed. If she had made but a single request of
him, no matter how simple, it would have made him so happy to execute
it; but his hands were tied--he could not force favors upon her.

"I will not remain longer, dear," he said, gently; "I want you to get
all the rest possible to-night, so as to be strong for our journey
to-morrow."

Violet arose also, and stood pale and motionless before him. She was
very lovely, and he never forgot the picture she made, with the crimson
light of the setting sun flooding her white-robed form, tinging her pale
face with an exquisite color, and giving a deeper, richer tint to her
golden hair.

Oh, if he had but been sure of her love, how supremely happy they might
be, he thought, with all the bright prospects before him.

An irrepressible wave of tenderness and longing swept over him, and,
involuntarily reaching out his arms, he drew her gently within his
embrace.

"My darling," he whispered, "you are all the world to me. I pray that I
may be able to prove to you by and by, how wholly you occupy this heart
of mine."

He lifted her face with one hand and searched it earnestly for a moment,
then, bending forward, he pressed his lips to hers in a lingering
caress.

It was the first time that he had kissed her, or made any outward
demonstration of his great love since their betrothal.

Violet broke away from him, with a low, thrilling cry of anguish, and
sank, pale and quivering in every nerve, into the chair from which she
had just arisen.

That caress had recalled the last passionate kiss of farewell that
Wallace had given her just before the steamer left its pier in New York,
while it had also revealed to her the fact that he would always be more
to her, even though he were dead, than Lord Cameron, with all his love,
his goodness, and generosity, could ever hope to be, living.

He was dee