FAREWELL TO VIOLET BANKS.
Along the north road, between the thickly wooded east ridge and the swiftly running river, Corona drove on her last journey through that valley. Three miles up, the road turned from the river, and, with several windings and doublings, ascended the mountain side to the elevated plateau on which were situated the beautiful house and grounds called Violet Banks.
As the carriage reached the magnificent plateau, Corona stopped the horse for a moment to take in the glory of the view. In the midst of her admiration of this scenery, two distinct thoughts were strongly borne in on the mind of Corona. One was that Violet Rockharrt would never be willing to leave this enchanting spot to make her home at Rockhold. She might consent to do so to please others, but she would suffer through it.
The other thought was that old Aaron Rockharrt would never consent to live in a place which, however beautiful it might be, was too difficult of access and egress for a man of his age.
What, then, could be done to cheer the old man's solitude at his home? The only hope lay in the chance of Mr. Clarence finding a wife who might be acceptable to his father, and bringing her home to Rockhold.
The carriage drew up before the long, low villa, with its vine-clad porch, where, though the roses had faded and fallen, the still vivid green foliage and brilliant rose berries made a gay appearance.
Violet was not sitting on the porch, beside her little wicker workstand basket, as she always had been found by Cora in the earlier months of her residence there, but, nevertheless, she saw her visitor's approach from the front windows of her sitting room, and ran out to meet her.
"Oh, so glad to see you! And such a delightful surprise!" were the words with which she caught Cora in her arms, as the latter alighted from the carriage.
"How well you look, dear. A real wood violet now, in your pretty purple robe," said Corona, with assumed gayety, as she returned the little creature's embrace, and went with her into the house.
"I am going to send the carriage to the stable. You shall spend the afternoon and evening with me, whether you will or not, and whether the handsome lover breaks his heart or not!" exclaimed Violet, as they entered the parlor.
"Don't trouble yourself, dear. See, the man is driving around to the stable now, and I have come, not only to spend the afternoon, but the night with you," said Cora, sitting down and beginning to unfasten her fur cloak. "Will my uncle be late in returning this evening?"
"Fabian? Oh, no! this is his early day. He will be home very soon now. But where did you leave his grace? Why did he not escort you here?" inquired the little lady.
"Have you not heard that he has left Rockhold?" asked Corona, in her turn.
"Why, no. I have heard nothing about him since the night of the dinner given in honor of your betrothal. Are you tired, Cora, dear? You look tired. Shall I show you to your room, where you may bathe your face?" inquired Violet, noticing for the first time the pale and weary aspect of her visitor.
"No; but you may bring the baby here to see me."
"My baby? Oh, the little angel has just been put to sleep—its afternoon sleep. Come into the nursery, and I will show it to you," exclaimed the proud and happy mother, starting up and leading the way to the upper floor and to a front room over the library, fitted up beautifully as a nursery. Corona, on entering, was conscious of a blending of many soft bright colors, and of a subdued rainbow light, like the changes of the opal.
Violet led her directly to the cradle, an elegant structure of fine light wood, satin and lace, in which was enshrined the jewel, the treasure, the idol of the household—a tiny, round-headed, pink-faced little atom of humanity, swathed in flannel, cambric and lace, and covered with fine linen sheets trimmed with lace, little lamb's-wool blankets embroidered with silk, and a coverlet of satin in alternate tablets of rose, azure and pearl tablets.
The delighted mother and the admiring visitor stood gazing at the babe, and talking in low tones for ten or fifteen minutes perhaps, and were then admonished by the nurse—an experienced woman—that it was not good for such young babies to be looked over and talked over so long when they were asleep.
Violet and her visitor softly withdrew from the cradle, and Corona had leisure to look around the lovely room, the carpet of tender green, like the first spring grass, and dotted over with buttercups and daisies; the wall paper of pearl white, with a vine of red and white roses running over it; the furniture of curled maple, upholstered in fine chintz, in colors to match the wall paper. But the window curtains were the marvels of the apartment. There were two high front windows, draped in rainbow silk—that is, each breadth of the hangings was in perfect rainbow stripes, and the effect of the light streaming through them was soft, bright, and very beautiful.
"It is a creation! Whose?" inquired Corona, as she stood before one of the windows.
"Well, it was my idea, though I am not at all noted for ideas, as everybody knows," said Violet, with a smile. "But I wanted my baby's first impressions of life to be serenely delightful through every sense. I wanted her to see, when she should open her eyes in the morning, a sphere of soft light and bright, delicate shades of color. So I prepared this room."
"But where did you find the rainbow draperies?"
"Oh, them! I designed them for my baby, and Fabian sent the pattern to Paris, and we received the goods in due time. I will tell you another thing. I have an Æolian harp for her. It is under the front window of the upper hall, but its aerial music can reach her here when it is in place. When she is a little stronger I am going to have a music box for her. Oh, I want my little baby to live in a sphere of 'sweet sights, sweet sounds, soft touches.'"
A brisk, firm footstep, a cheery, ringing voice in the hall below, arrested the conversation of the two women.
"It is Fabian! Come!" exclaimed Violet, joyfully, leading the way down stairs.
Mr. Fabian stood at the foot. He embraced his young wife boisterously, and then seeing Cora coming down stairs behind Violet, went and shook hands with his niece, saying:
"Glad to see you! Glad to see you! Has Violet been showing you our little goddess? I tell you what, Cora: everything has changed since that usurper came. This place is no longer 'Violet Banks' It is the Holy Hill. This house is the temple; that nursery is the sanctuary; that cradle is the altar; and that babe is the idol of the community. Now go along with Violet. Oh! she is high priestess to the idol. Go along. I'm going to wash my face and hands, and then I'll join you."
Mr. Fabian went up stairs, and Cora followed Violet into the parlor.
"Here are the English magazines, my dear, come this morning. Will you look over them, while I go and see to the dinner table? I will not be gone more than ten minutes," said Violet, lifting a pile of pamphlets from a side table and placing them on a little stand near the easy chair into which Corona had thrown herself.
"Certainly, Violet, love. Don't mind me. Go."
Violet kissed her forehead and left the room.
Cora never touched the magazines, but sat with her elbow on the stand and her forehead resting on her hand.
She sat motionless, buried in painful thought until her Uncle Fabian entered the room.
Then she looked up.
He came and sat down near her; looked at her inquiringly for a few moments; and then, as she did not break the silence, he said:
"Well, Cora?"
"Well, Uncle Fabian?"
"What is up, my dear?"
"I would rather defer all explanations until after dinner, if you please."
"Very well, my dear Cora."
And indeed there was no time for further talk just then, for Violet came hurrying into the room laughing and exclaiming:
"I am the pink of punctuality, Cora, dear. Here I am back again in just ten minutes."
The next moment the dinner bell rang, and they all went into the dining room.
Violet—trained by Mrs. Chief Justice Pendletime, who was a great domestic manager—excelled in every housekeeping department, especially, perhaps, in the culinary art; so the little dinner was an exquisite one, and thoroughly enjoyed by the master and mistress of the house, and might have been equally appreciated by their visitor if her sad thoughts had not destroyed her appetite.
After dinner, when they adjourned to the parlor, Violet said:
"Again I must beg you to excuse me, Cora, dear, while I go up and put baby to sleep. It is a little weakness of mine, but I always like to put her to sleep myself, though I have the most faithful of all nurses. You will excuse me?"
"Why, of course, darling!" Corona heartily replied; and the happy little mother ran off.
"Now then, Cora, what is it? You said you would explain after dinner. Do so now, my dear; for if it is anything very painful I would rather not have my Wood Violet grieved by hearing it," said Mr. Fabian, drawing his chair nearer to that of Corona.
"It is very painful, Uncle Fabian, and I also would like to shield Violet as much as possible from the grief of knowing it. But—is it possible that you do not know what has happened at Rockhold?" gravely inquired Corona.
"I know this much: That the announcement of an engagement between yourself and the Englishman was premature and unauthorized; that you have finally rejected the suitor—who has since left Rockhold—and by so doing you have greatly enraged our Iron King. I know no more than that, Cora."
"What! Has not my grandfather told you anything to day?"
"Not one word."
"Then I must tell you. He has cast me off forever."
"Cora! Cora!"
"It is true, indeed. This morning he ordered me to quit his house; not to let him find me still there on his return; never to let him see or hear from me again unless it was with my consent to recall and marry my English suitor."
"But, Cora, my dear, why can you not come into his conditions? Why can you not marry Cumbervale? He is a splendid fellow every way, and he loves you as hard as a horse can kick. He is awfully in love with you, my dear. Now, why not marry him and make everybody happy and all serene?"
"Because, Uncle Fabian, I don't happen to be in love with him," replied Corona, with just a shade of disdain in her manner.
"Well, my dear, I will not undertake to persuade you to change your mind. If you have inherited nothing else from the Iron King, you have his strength of will. What are you going to do, Cora?"
"I am going to carry out my purpose of going to the Indian Reserve as missionary to the Indian tribes, to devote all my time and all my fortune to their welfare."
"A mad scheme, my dear Cora. How are you, a young woman, going to manage to do this? Under the auspices of what church do you act?"
"Under that of the broad church of Christian charity—no other."
"But how are you going to reach the field of your labors? How are you going to cross those vast tracts, destitute of all inhabitants except tribes of savages, destitute of all roads except the government 'trails'?"
"You know, if you have not forgotten, that it was my purpose to join my brother at his post, and to establish my school near his fort and under its protection."
"Well, yes; I remember hearing something of the sort; but really, Cora, I thought it was all talk since Sylvan went away."
"But it is more than that. Some time late in this month I shall go out to Fort Farthermost under the protection of Captain and Mrs. Neville. They are now in Washington, where I am going immediately to join them. When you read this letter, which I received after my grandfather had left me in anger this morning, you will understand all about it," said Corona, drawing her brother's last letter from her pocket and handing it to her uncle.
Mr. Fabian took it and read it carefully through; then returned it to her, saying:
"Well, my dear, it does seem as if there were a fate in all this. But what a journey is before you! At this season of the year, too! But, Cora, do not let Violet know that the grandfather has discarded you. It would grieve her tender heart too much. Just tell her that you are going out to your brother. Do not even tell her so much as that to-night. It would keep her from sleep."
"I will not hint the subject this evening, Uncle Fabian. I love Violet too much to distress her."
"You will have to explain that your engagement with the Englishman is at an end."
"Or, rather, that it has never had a beginning," said Corona.
"Very well," assented Mr. Fabian. "And now I must go and dispatch a messenger to North End to fetch Clarence here to spend the night. A hasty leave-taking at the railway depot would hardly satisfy Clarence, Cora."
"I know! And I thank you very much, Uncle Fabian," replied Corona.
"Ah, Violet! here you are, just in time to take my place. I am going out to send for Clarence to spend the evening with us," said Mr. Fabian, as he passed his young wife, who entered the room as he left it.
Instead of sending a messenger, Fabian put his fastest horse into his lightest wagon, and set off at his best speed himself. He reached North End Hotel in twenty minutes, and burst in upon Clarence, finding that gentleman seated in an arm chair before a coal fire.
"Anything the matter, Fabian?" he inquired, looking up in surprise.
"Yes! The devil's to pay! The monarch has driven his granddaughter from court!" exclaimed the elder brother, throwing his hat upon the floor, and dropping into a chair.
"You don't mean to say—"
"Yes, I do! Father has turned Cora out of doors because she refused to marry the Englishman."
"Good Heaven!"
"Come! There is no time to talk! Cora is at my house. She leaves for Washington to join Captain and Mrs. Neville, and go out with them to Fort Farthermost."
"But, look here, Fabian. Why do you let her do that?"
"Don't be a fool! Who is to stop her if she is bound to go? Come, hurry up; put on your overcoat and get into my trap, and I will take you back with me, see Cora, and stay all night with us."
Mr. Clarence started up, rang for a waiter to see to his rooms, then put on his overcoat, and in five minutes more he was seated beside his brother in the light wagon, behind the fastest horse in Mr. Fabian's stables, bowling out of the village at a rate of speed that I would not dare to state. It was not nine o'clock when they reached Violet Banks.
Mr. Fabian drove around to the stables, gave his team up to the groom, and walked back to the house with Clarence.
"You must not drop a word to Violet about Cora's intended journey. She thinks that Cora has only come to spend the night with her. If she knew otherwise she would be too distressed to sleep. Not until after breakfast to-morrow is she to be told that Cora is going away; and never is she to know that our niece has been driven away."
"I understand, Fabian. Who is going to Washington with Cora?"
"No one that I know of; but she is quite able to take care of herself, so far."
"I will not have it so, Fabian. I will go with our niece!" said Mr. Clarence.
"Are you mad? The monarch would never forgive such misprision of treason. He would discard you, Clarence!" exclaimed Mr. Fabian, in consternation.
"I do not think so. Our father is too just for that. And in any case I shall take the risk."
"The Iron King is just in all his business relations; he would not be otherwise to save himself from bankruptcy. But has he been just to Cora?"
"From his point of view. He has not been kind; that is all. I must be kind to our niece at all costs."
This brought them to the door of the house, which Mr. Fabian opened with his latch key, and the two men entered the parlor together.
"Why, how soon you have come! I am so glad!" exclaimed Violet, rising to welcome the new visitor.
"That is because, instead of sending, I went for him," explained Mr. Fabian.
"So I suspected when I found that you did not return immediately to the parlor," said Violet.
Mr. Clarence meanwhile went to his niece, took her hand and kissed her in silence. He could not trust his voice to speak. She understood him, and returned the pressure of his hand. If it had not been for Violet, the evening would have passed very gloomily; but she, who knew nothing of the domestic tempest that had driven Cora from home, nor even of the impending separation in the morning, and who heartily enjoyed the presence of her two favorite relatives in the house, kept the party enlivened by her own good spirits and gay talk.
Once during the evening Clarence and Cora found themselves far enough off from their friends for a short tete-a-tete, in which there was a brief but perfect explanation between them.
Then Clarence announced his intention of escorting her to Washington and seeing her safe under the protection of the Nevilles.
Cora strongly opposed this plan, on the ground that his escort was unnecessary and might be deeply offensive to Mr. Rockharrt.
But Clarence was firm.
"You may turn your back on me, Cora. You may refuse to speak to me during the whole journey. But you cannot prevent me from going on the same train with you, and so becoming your guardian on the journey," said Clarence.
Cora's answer to this was prevented by the approach of Violet, who said:
"Clarence, it is half past eleven o'clock, and Cora looks tired to death. Your room is ready whenever you would like to retire."
Acting upon this very broad hint, Mr. Clarence laughed, kissed his niece good night, shook hands with his sister-in-law, and left the room, preceded by Mr. Fabian, who offered to show him to his chamber. Violet conducted Cora to the room prepared for her, and, with a warm embrace, left her to repose for the last time in that house.