The reply was so unexpected that Violet felt a sharp twinge of mortification and a spontaneous desire to show her aunt that she was wrong. There were lots of small proofs that she might give her—
"No," she returned, suddenly serious. "He cares very much for me in a certain way: my understanding of his gift—and his hopes—and his career. His family mean to be kind, but they're so unsympathetic. They're not temperamental like him and—"
Violet paused because Aunt Amy was smiling. It was unkind to smile at such a time. Very well! Her lips should be sealed from this time on. She would never again speak to her about Edgar!
"He is very attractive even with all his conceit," said Mrs. Wright, who was quite conscious that the girl's slender body had suddenly a resentful rigidity. "A beautiful tenor voice and conceit seem to be inseparable in this mundane sphere; and if my little girl has understood and responded to his outpourings about himself she is charming to him." Mrs. Wright paused and then went on: "Look around, Violet, and realize that you are the only girl here to whom he can show attention. Did he show you any in New York? Did he go out of his way for you? You fell right into his reach on the train and he took the gifts the gods provided; and they were very sweet gifts."
The speaker squeezed her unresponsive listener, whose heart was beating hotly. "As a rule men are marauders," she went on. "As a rule, women are single-hearted, faithful. There are exceptions. I want to give you one piece of advice and I can't put it too strongly. Take it in and act upon it, and it may save you a world of hurt vanity, and possibly a broken heart. No matter how a man behaves toward you,—no matter how he looks, or what he does,—or what he says,—don't believe or even imagine that he loves you until he tells you he does, in so many words."
There were tears in the baby-bachelor's blue eyes. Among the stormy emotions that filled her was the horrible suspicion that, instead of being a foreordained victor, the kitten might possibly in the end be the mouse's victim.
"Now, Mr. Sidney," went on Mrs. Wright's calm voice, "is a man who I believe has hold of life by the right end."
"He is always making fun of Edgar," burst forth Violet, her breath coming fast. "You heard what he said about the peacock."
At this, Mrs. Wright fell a peg lower in her niece's estimation, for she laughed.
"I knew what he meant," she answered, "but I couldn't let the lovely singer's feelings be hurt."