The three return together, but Floyd goes to the stable to see about one of the carriage-horses slightly lamed, and when he comes Mr. Haviland sits talking to Violet. Mr. Haviland is older than Mr. Murray, a tall, rather spare man, with gray hair and close-cropped 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, joyous, and in almost every mood but this. What is it? he wonders. Eugene's eyes wander stealthily now and then, and when she catches them a shiver goes over her.
To-night Cecil is unusually wakeful and very amusing to Mr. Murray. They all sit on the porch and discuss business. Mr. Wilmarth is likely to make a good deal of trouble. To-morrow, it seems, they are to meet at the lawyer's and the matter is to be put in process of settlement. The new partners are in haste to get to work.