At last Violet is glad to rise and bid them good evening. Mr. Murray finally obtains a kiss from Cecil, and is triumphant over so rare a victory.
At the top of the stairs a hand is laid on Violet's arm.
"It was fate," pleads Eugene, weakly, "and your wish. I saw it in your eyes."
"Love her," she answers, with a convulsive shiver,—"love her with your whole soul."
Floyd Grandon knows who entered the hall a moment ago and who now emerges in the soft light.
CHAPTER XXVII.
You have heard with what toil Secunder penetrated to the land of darkness, and that, after all, he did not taste the water of immortality.—Saadi.
The three men talk late. The two young people on the porch have no duenna, for Mrs. Grandon retired early,—indeed, she has left Miss Murray quite to Violet, and she thinks if Eugene lets slip this chance he will be foolish above what is written. He plays at love,—it is no new thing for him,—but he convinces "Polly" without any actual questions and answers that he cares for her, and the next morning there is a delicate little triumph in her demeanor, a tender overflow of pity, as if, after all, she might not take him, and then he would be heart-broken.
Violet is much better. She thrusts her secret out of sight, and Floyd is brief and business-like, something more, but he would be much too proud to own it.