Violet—trained by Mrs. Chief Justice Pendletime, who was a great domestic manager—excelled in every housekeeping department, especially, perhaps, in the culinary art; so the little dinner was an exquisite one, and thoroughly enjoyed by the master and mistress of the house, and might have been equally appreciated by their visitor if her sad thoughts had not destroyed her appetite.
After dinner, when they adjourned to the parlor, Violet said:
"Again I must beg you to excuse me, Cora, dear, while I go up and put baby to sleep. It is a little weakness of mine, but I always like to put her to sleep myself, though I have the most faithful of all nurses. You will excuse me?"
"Why, of course, darling!" Corona heartily replied; and the happy little mother ran off.
"Now then, Cora, what is it? You said you would explain after dinner. Do so now, my dear; for if it is anything very painful I would rather not have my Wood Violet grieved by hearing it," said Mr. Fabian, drawing his chair nearer to that of Corona.
"It is very painful, Uncle Fabian, and I also would like to shield Violet as much as possible from the grief of knowing it. But—is it possible that you do not know what has happened at Rockhold?" gravely inquired Corona.
"I know this much: That the announcement of an engagement between yourself and the Englishman was premature and unauthorized; that you have finally rejected the suitor—who has since left Rockhold—and by so doing you have greatly enraged our Iron King. I know no more than that, Cora."
"What! Has not my grandfather told you anything to day?"
"Not one word."
"Then I must tell you. He has cast me off forever."