"It was the child. Why, Mrs. Grandon had the whole nursery in her arms in five minutes, and she never made a bit of fuss! Even baby went to her. That little Miss Cecil adores her. But you couldn't imagine Madame Lepelletier really fond of children. She speaks to them in a lovely manner, but I think they must miss the true heart in it. He chose wisely, since he had to give his child a mother."
"He is a capital good fellow," says John Latimer, "Few men would undertake the family bother he has."
CHAPTER XIX.
"Thou on one side, I on the other."
All her life Violet Grandon will remember "Lohengrin," the perfect evening to the rather imperfect day. In good truth the day disappoints madame as well. Gertrude comes down with Violet, and there is a little shopping to finish. Laura and Gertrude cannot agree in one or two points concerning the wedding. Floyd and the professor are to lunch at Delmonico's with some literary men.
Of course madame is serene and charming, but Violet and she keep distinctly apart. There is no tender confidence, as with Mrs. Latimer. When the girls, Laura and Gertrude, are fairly out of the way, Violet sits shyly looking at some engravings, and answers gently, but makes no comments of her own. She does feel strange with this beautiful woman. She wonders how much Floyd loved her at first, in those long years ago when she was a girl, only she seems never to have been a girl, just as you never can think of her being old.
Madame yawns presently, feels the lack of her siesta, and decides that to be brilliant to-night she must have it. Excusing herself for a few moments, she goes away, rather vexed that Violet should be so inappreciative. After all, has the child anything much in her? Is it worth while to expend any great interest upon her?
The dinner passes agreeably, and the carriage comes for them. The professor has been discoursing upon Wagner and his musical theories, but he will not have anything said about this particular opera. So Violet takes her seat, with her husband on one side and the professor on the other, and prepares herself to listen to that hidden mental element that touches the inmost processes of the soul.
Elsa, in her blissful surprise, the mysterious enchantment convincing her of reality, loving, adoring, trusting to the uttermost, and content to live, to take love without asking herself from whence her lover comes; to hold her happiness on so strong a tenure now because she does trust. Wide-eyed, exultant, Violet listens. Cannot her husband read her story in her eyes? The beautiful march enchants her. Again she says to herself, Is this love? Though the way is straight and few find it, some blest souls enter in.