Violet gives an embarrassed laugh. "I really have not been putting treason into her head," she says, and then she retreats ignominiously to the kitchen.
Denise comes forward with an anxious face.
"The master wishes to see you. Mr. Wilmarth has been here," she adds.
Grandon goes up to the sick-room. Mr. St. Vincent is in a high state of excitement. Mr. Wilmarth has renewed his offer of marriage; nay, strongly insisted upon it, and hinted at some mysterious power that could work much harm if he chose to go out of the business.
"If your friend could have stayed until we were quite certain," St. Vincent says, weakly. "I am so torn and distracted! My poor, poor child! Have you heard from your brother?"
"I shall hear on Monday," Grandon replies, evasively.
"And if I cannot live until then?" The eyes are wild, eager; the complexion is of a gray pallor.
"Whatever happens, I will care for Violet," the visitor says, solemnly. "Trust her to me. She saved my little child yesterday, and I owe her a large debt of gratitude. I will be a father to her."
"Mr. Grandon, you are still too young, and—how did she save your child?" he asks, suddenly.
Grandon repeats the rescue, and if he makes Violet more of a heroine than madame would approve, it is a pardonable sin.